This Old Homicide (6 page)

With the salad in the fridge and the pizza keeping warm in the oven, I opened two bottles of wine and began pouring. Marigold’s aunt Daisy stopped by for a few minutes to offer Jane her condolences. She was followed by Mr. and Mrs. Robertson and two more neighbors from down the street who just wanted to give Jane a hug. There were more tears and some sweet stories. Mrs. Robertson recalled the night she was about to give birth to her first child and Mr. Robertson was stuck at a job down in San Francisco. Jesse drove her to the hospital and stayed with her, leading her through her breathing routine and letting her shout obscenities at him until her husband finally showed up.

They’d named their daughter Elizabeth Jesse, E.J. for short.

By the time the Robertsons left, we were all sniffling and dabbing our eyes again.

“Thank goodness there’s more wine,” Lizzie said, and refilled our glasses.

I brought out plates and utensils as the girls took turns playing with Robbie, my West Highland terrier, who helped lighten the mood. My pretty orange-striped cat, Tiger, was also on hand to give comfort by allowing herself to be petted and held by each of us. She was awfully good at sensing human moods and spent most of her time in Jane’s lap, purring softly.

Emily carried the pizza and I brought the salad to the dining room table and we sat to eat and commiserate. Robbie did me proud by staying just outside the dining room, as if held back by the invisible barrier of training, but he couldn’t resist a few soft whines as he watched us eat. Tiger ignored us completely, retiring to the living room to curl up on the couch.

“I didn’t realize Jesse was sick, Jane,” Lizzie began.

“He wasn’t,” Jane said, still looking a little dazed. “It was a complete shock. We think he might’ve had a heart attack, but the police—”

“Police?” Lizzie looked at me for the explanation.

“You haven’t heard about this?” I said. “I thought it would be all over town by now. I gave Vesta all the details.”

“That’s the problem,” Lizzie said with a knowing nod. “Vesta went home sick this afternoon.”

“Well, darn. I went to all that trouble to plant the seeds of gossip, only to have them fall on barren ground.”

Jane filled the girls in on the story. “Jesse’s house was torn apart, so Shannon called the police. We think someone was looking for something.”

Lizzie frowned. “Someone broke into Jesse’s house?”

“A burglar?” Emily moaned. “Not in Lighthouse Cove.”

“Oh, Jane, I’m so sorry,” Marigold said.

I was momentarily distracted by Marigold’s ability to weave her long strawberry blond hair into a neat braid, which stayed out of the way while she ate. If only my hair would be that cooperative.

“Thanks, Marigold,” Jane said. “I… I don’t know for certain… .”

I could hear her voice growing misty so I jumped in to explain. “We can’t be absolutely sure someone broke in until the police go through the evidence. For all we know, it could’ve been Jesse himself, looking for something he lost. But the place was a mess. It didn’t look like something Jesse would do to his own house.”

Marigold patted Jane’s hand. “It’s horrible not knowing what happened.” Marigold was a true nurturer. She’d been raised in a loving Amish community, although she’d left her family years ago to join our English world, as she called it.

“It is,” Jane said with a nod. “I hate to think poor Jesse might’ve seen an intruder and died of fright.”

“That’s a ghastly thought,” Emily whispered.

“I’m convinced that didn’t happen,” I insisted, attempting to persuade Jane while trying to believe it myself. “He really did look like he died peacefully in his sleep. Maybe while watching TV.”

But the television was turned off,
a little voice in my head reminded me. I ignored the voice because it didn’t mean anything. Jesse had probably turned off the set himself.

“So the police were there,” Lizzie prompted, reaching for her wineglass. “Does that mean Eric was on the scene?”

I met Jane’s gaze. We both knew Lizzie was fishing for some juicy gossip on the handsome police chief, but I didn’t have any to give. “Yes, he was here. He was very thorough. He won’t make any judgment calls until he’s seen all the evidence and talks to the coroner.”

“He’s such a good person,” she said fondly.

“And he’s very attractive,” Marigold said, egging Lizzie on in her own subtle way.

“And how nice that he showed up himself,” Lizzie added, “instead of sending an underling.”

“There were plenty of underlings around, too,” I said dryly. Ever since Eric first suspected me of murder a few months ago, Lizzie had been lighting votive candles and praying that he would ask me out on a date. She was a natural-born matchmaker and thought a crime scene was as good a place as any to meet an eligible man.

I loved Lizzie like a sister and her husband, Hal, was a sweetie pie. But there was not enough love in this world to ever make me go out on another blind date again. Not after the last guy she set me up with was found dead.

I didn’t blame her for that, of course. And I didn’t blame her for thinking Eric would make a nice boyfriend for one of us. He was a great guy. But that didn’t mean I would allow myself to be set up on blind date with him. On the other hand, it wouldn’t be a blind date since I already knew him, right? And why were my thoughts headed in this crazy direction? It must’ve been the shock of finding Jesse today. There was no other explanation for it.

Marigold pushed her plate away and sat back in her chair. “Jane, I’d like to help you with the funeral arrangements. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

“Yes, let’s figure out what needs to be done,” said Lizzie, always the organizer, pulling a pad of paper from her purse. “Have you scheduled a time and place for the service?”

Jane sighed. “I thought I’d ask Mr. Bitterman to handle everything. Jesse wasn’t particularly religious, but I would like a memorial of some kind. And he was a veteran, so I’d like some recognition of his service. And afterward, I thought about inviting everyone back to Hennessey House, but…”

“But it won’t be open for business yet.” I finished the sentence for her because I knew what she was thinking. “Having a funeral service so close to your grand opening will put a pall on your party and might even affect your reservations.”

She sighed. “When you say it out loud like that, I feel so shallow.”

“Don’t,” Lizzie insisted. “You can have a lovely party at the Inn on Main Street and nobody will think anything of it. Well, I guess it’s not a
party
exactly, but—”

“No, let’s call it a party,” Marigold said. “We’re celebrating a life well lived.”

Jane nodded more firmly. “That’s right. I want to have a party and I want everyone to have a good time celebrating Jesse’s life.”

“Sounds perfect,” I said. “He would love that.”

“I’d be happy to cater it,” said Emily, who ran a successful catering company with her tea shop employees. “Unless you have something else in mind.”

“No, that would be wonderful,” Jane said. “Can you include a full bar? Something tells me we’ll all be in the mood for some liquid refreshment.”

“Absolutely. A full bar, hearty appetizers, and bite-sized desserts. How does that sound?”

“Wonderful. Thank you all so much.” She gazed around the table. “I couldn’t ask for better friends.”

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Emily said, grabbing one of the tissues I was already handing out.

I’d placed tissue boxes strategically around the room, figuring there would be plenty of tears tonight along with a few laughs. All of us had known Jesse and loved him, so we told plenty of funny stories and jokes and made some somber guesses as to what had happened to him.

Yes, we’d loved Jesse, but more important, we all loved Jane and wanted to lighten her mood for a while.

Finally Emily returned to a subject I’d been wanting to revisit all evening but hadn’t brought up for fear of upsetting Jane. “I’m concerned about the possible break-in at Jesse’s. I think we should ask around town, see if anyone else has had their home broken into.”

I was happy to see Jane perk up. The last time the five of us had joined forces like this, we helped find a killer.

But then Jane frowned. “Shouldn’t we hold off until we know what actually happened at Jesse’s place? I would hate to frighten people with the idea that someone is breaking into houses around here.”

Lizzie lifted one shoulder, unconcerned. “I’m surprised the whole town doesn’t already know about the possible break-in. By morning, it’ll be front-page news.”

“True enough,” Jane said, and glanced around the table. “We wouldn’t have to make a big deal of it, right?”

“Of course not,” Marigold said quickly. “We’ll just ask people if they’ve heard about any other break-ins around town.”

“That’s straightforward,” I said.

Lizzie nodded in agreement. “Always best to keep it simple.”

“But that brings up another question,” Emily said as she refilled our wineglasses. “Don’t you think if someone else was burglarized, we’d have heard about it already?”

“Well, yes,” Marigold allowed. “Ever since the police department Web site started listing the local crimes, everybody knows everything.”

To be honest, we didn’t need a Web site to spread the news. Our local grapevine was amazingly effective. But the Internet did speed things up a little.

“In that case, we can just look online,” Jane said.

I sipped my wine. “But there might be someone who didn’t bother calling the police. It couldn’t hurt to ask around.”

“No, it couldn’t hurt,” Jane said.

Marigold grinned. “It’ll be fun and it might lead to some interesting conversations.”

Jane chuckled, and I savored the sound. She turned to the other three. “I’m still surprised you guys didn’t hear the gory details before you got here.”

“I heard that he died,” Lizzie said, “but nothing about the possible break-in.”

“I’m still disappointed in Vesta,” I said, then added, “Oh, but I hope she feels better soon.”

“She thought it might be a twenty-four-hour bug,” Lizzie said.

“But think about it,” I said, my eyes narrowing. “Vesta knew, Mrs. Higgins knew, half the police force knew, and word still didn’t get around town?”

Marigold’s eyes widened in mock horror. “That sounds like one of the seven signs of the apocalypse.”

I snickered. “All the best gossips knew and said nothing. It’s definitely a sign from above.”

“I should’ve come down and told you all myself,” Jane said, glancing around the table. “But I’ve been such a space case all day. I can’t focus on anything.”

“Nobody expects you to, love,” Emily said, her soft brogue a soothing balm. “You’re grieving, after all. I brought you some special tea that’ll calm your nerves and help you sleep. I’ll brew some right now.”

*   *   *

The next day I ran around to three jobsites where I had crews working. I had planned to get in at least a few hours of work, but my foreman chased me away the second time I messed up a template for replacing the decorative wood shingle siding on the old Victorian we were rehabbing. Clearly, I wasn’t thinking straight. Since I couldn’t focus on work, I drove home and decided to get the ball rolling and survey some of my neighbors about Jesse. It turned out that Mrs. Higgins wasn’t the only one who’d heard a driver gunning a car engine. Several neighbors reported hearing the sound of tires screeching down the street around two in the morning the night before. But when I asked my neighbor Hester, who lived four doors down on the corner, if she’d heard the same noise, she smiled ruefully. “Yeah, sorry about that. Lisa has a new boyfriend and his car makes an awful racket. It woke me and Joe up, too, so we’ve both warned him to either get a new muffler or stop seeing Lisa.”

I laughed. “Does Lisa know you told him that?”

Hester confessed that she’d rather have the guy dump her daughter than keep coming around. “He’s from San Francisco and I’m scared to death she’ll move away with him.”

“I thought she wanted to go to Cove College.”

“She does,” Hester said, shaking her head. “But he’s got those sexy eyes that reel a girl in and make her forget her goals and dreams.”

So that answered the puzzle about the loud car in the night. Nobody else had heard the pounding that Mrs. Higgins had mentioned, but perhaps the sound had carried directly from Jesse’s house to hers. Or maybe she had imagined it.

But Eric hadn’t imagined the hole in the wall in Jesse’s bedroom.

By the time I got back home, the only thing I knew for sure was that my innocent questions would send the gossip levels soaring over the next few days. That wasn’t such a bad outcome.

“My work here is done,” I murmured, smiling inwardly. But before I could make it down my driveway and escape into my backyard, Mrs. Higgins flagged me down. “Yoo-hoo! Shannon, dear! Can you come here, please?”

“Hi, Mrs. Higgins.” I crossed the street to the picket fence, where she was watering her roses. Today she wore a bright green housedress covered in purple plumeria. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, there’s just so much to think about and do in any given day.”

“There sure is,” I said amiably.

“But weighing most heavily on my mind is the fact that my birdbath is leaking.”

For two longs seconds, I was befuddled. Then I remembered who I was talking to.

“That’s too bad, Mrs. Higgins,” I said, gritting my teeth. I’d installed a birdbath last year to replace the leaking one I’d installed the year before that. The woman just wanted a new birdbath every year, and if she could blame the leak on my handiwork, she could wangle a new one and not get charged for my labor.

Not that I would’ve charged her. It wasn’t a lot of work and it made her happy. My father had been replacing Mrs. Higgins’s birdbaths for years before I inherited the duty.

“And boy howdy! I’ve got a beauty picked out this time. Wait right here.” She toddled up the walkway and disappeared inside her house. A minute later, she was back, waving a mail-order catalog. “I ordered it just this morning. Isn’t it glorious?”

“Oh my.” My eyes boggled at the fountain she wanted installed in her backyard. It was a hideous statue consisting of children and dolphins and fish and birds and a puppy. Water cascaded over everything and ended up in a small pool at the base. There were even angels. Big ones, with wings.