A Killer Read (7 page)

“A
untie Lizzie! Auntie Lizzie! We been waiting. My mama says that’s something like a watched pot. What does that mean? Where have you been? I got presents to open, Auntie Lizzie. Come on with me. Mama, Auntie Lizzie’s here.”

Birthday girl Jenna Raleigh grabbed Lizzie’s hand and tried to pull her into the living room, a hard task for someone so tiny. Her curly blonde hair had been pulled back in a ponytail, held in place by a shiny red barrette that matched her red and white polka-dot T-shirt and red jeans.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Jenna. Hey, Paige… sorry to you, too. It couldn’t be avoided. The flowers are for you, the wine is for Brad, and this”—she retrieved a large gift bag decorated with pink bunnies from her canvas tote—“is for the birthday girl.”

“Yessss!” Jenna clapped her hands and grabbed the bag.

“Not yet, bunny. Put it with the other gifts. We’ll open them when everyone’s in the living room. Go get your daddy,
please. How are you, Lizzie? It feels like just ages since I’ve seen you,” Paige said with a deep sigh. Her own long blonde hair had been piled atop her head, held with a clip, but not securely enough to keep in check a bevy of tendrils that fell in a frame around her face. The long green cotton blouse she wore had the empire waist she’d favored since giving birth to her second daughter. Somehow, those last pounds and inches just wouldn’t disappear.

Lizzie laughed. “I think it was last Sunday that I was over. It’s been a hectic week for you, too, I’d guess.”

“That doesn’t begin to cover it.” Paige hugged Lizzie. “And you’ve had quite the week, I hear. A dead body and all. Tell me about it.”

Lizzie pulled one smaller gift bag from her tote before stashing it in the hallway. “This is for the non-birthday gremlin. I’ll tell you all about the goings-on later. But it has been a weird few days. And you’ll never guess who’s investigating the case.”

Paige grinned. “I’ll just bet it’s Mark Dreyfus. I knew you two would bump into each other at some point.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he was the chief? And isn’t he awfully young to be chief? He can’t be more than thirty-two or thirty-three.”

“He probably got the job because of his army background, or maybe there weren’t any other candidates. I forget the details, if I even knew them. And, I forgot to tell you because it happened when you were out of town taking that longer course, the name of which I always forget, and well, it just never dawned on me that you’d want to know. Does he still curl your toes?”

“You remember that!”

“Of course I do. In fact, I even saved some of the notes we used to pass in math class.”

Lizzie groaned. “How much do you want for them?”

“No way. I plan to read them at your wedding, girl,” Paige said with a laugh.

“That’s okay then. They’ll be too yellowed and crumbling to read by that point.”
No point in adding fuel to the fire by telling her about our hike.
“Where’s the rest of the gang?”

The shrieking of two small girls answered her question, as they flew through the kitchen door and flung themselves at her. Lizzie loved visiting the Raleigh household. She and Paige had grown up together, spending almost equal time in each other’s houses. Their parents had been good friends, until the accident, when Lizzie’s mama had cut herself off from everyone. Paige and her mama had been a big help to her, offering comfort and a second home. Paige was the sister she never had. They’d both known Brad Raleigh at high school, and Lizzie couldn’t have been happier when the two of them finally got married. Now she was godmother to Jenna, and “auntie” to her and her sister, Cate.

After supper and the official opening of gifts, the girls went off to play while the adults took their coffees into the living room.

“What’s up with that dead body, Lizzie?” Brad asked.

Lizzie stared at him a moment before answering. “You’re growing a beard, aren’t you? I’ve been trying to figure out what’s different and that’s it. Or else you’re getting too lazy to shave these days.”

“You’re sharp tonight, Lizzie,” Brad said with a grin. “My lady here is not overly pleased. I’d be rightly grateful if you’d tell her you like it.”

“You know, Paige, it does give him a certain rugged man-of-the-bush appeal.”

At six-five, Brad had kept his body as trim as the day they’d graduated. Not one for team sports, he’d been more an outdoorsman, hiking and hunting luring him away from town each weekend. Until marriage trimmed the number of outings and the frequency.

“Anyway,” Lizzie continued, “Thursday was a strange evening.” She told them about it in detail.

“They can’t believe Molly had anything to do with it,” Paige said in a shocked tone.

“They’re checking us all very closely. They had Sally-Jo Baker in for an interview at the station this afternoon. I’m dying to hear how that went.”

“So to speak,” Brad said, straight-faced.

“Precisely. The police are trying real hard to find a connection between the dead man, Frank Telford, and one of us. Sally-Jo said they asked if she knew him before she moved here.”

“Isn’t she from out west somewhere?”

“No. Fort Myers. I think the police are really stretching. Although, when you think about it, we only know what Sally-Jo has chosen to tell us about herself. She’s lived here for close to a year now, but I haven’t met any of her relatives or friends from out of town.” She paused. “But I’d swear she’s not involved. And then there’s Stephanie Lowe. She’s not sharing any details about herself either.”

“Oh, that nice young thing? She wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Paige observed.

“Why, because she’s pregnant?” Brad asked.

“Now you just shush,” Paige replied. “I think I’m a pretty good judge of character, and I’d say she’s not a murderer.”

“And how else do you know her except from eating at the Oasis?” Brad persisted.

Paige made a face at him. “If I weren’t such a good judge of character, we wouldn’t be married.”

“Ouch. I’m not sure if that was a compliment or not. Just think I’ll go do the dishes so you two can continue with your character assessments. Ladies.” He gave a small bow before leaving.

Lizzie laughed. “Too bad you saw him first.”

“Hah. I can’t see you with two kids under the age of four running around your heels. And he wants more!”

“I seem to remember your thinking six was an ideal number of kids.”

“That was when I was young, idealistic and a nonparent. So, what’s it feel like to be grilled by Mark?” Paige grabbed a cushion and hugged it as she made herself more comfortable on the beige striped sofa.

“Grilled is right. He’s probably a good cop, but I just wish he’d focus away from the book club. I’m certain no one in it is a murderer. He has help, though. Officer Amber Craig. Molly says she’s new to town and that’s who put her through the hoops. I haven’t met her as yet.” She paused and took a sip of her coffee.

“It’s a real puzzle, though,” she continued. “No one knew this Frank Telford. He was wandering around Molly’s house, then made a phone call and then was found dead in his car. It’s either a case of the wrong place, wrong time, or there’s something tying it all together.”

“Good thing you don’t have to worry about it,” Paige said. “Uh, Lizzie… you don’t, do you? Or should I say, you won’t, will you? Promise me you’ll stay out of it. I worry about you enough already.”

S
undays always filled Lizzie with a feeling of exhilaration and dread. She took the liberty of going back to bed after grabbing the
Birmingham News
, delivered each weekend, and a cup of coffee, timed to brew about ten minutes before her inner alarm went off. She took a pass on her morning run and showered just before dressing to go to Magnolia Manor and visit with her mama.

If it was a good day, Evelyn Turner would be alert and would know Lizzie as her visitor, or better still, as her daughter, and they’d have lunch together in the dining room. If not, Lizzie would sit and talk until she ran out of news and idle chatter. She’d be sure to read a few more chapters of
Mansfield Park
, the Jane Austen novel they were currently working their way through— Lizzie planned to have all of Austen’s books read by the end of next year, at which point they’d start on another novelist. She’d also help feed her mama in her room, and eventually, go back to her own world. Leaving was always hardest.
What if Mama remembers me
just after I’ve left the room?
Lizzie wondered at the end of every visit, fearful of missing that moment of recognition yet all too aware that it was unlikely to happen.

This week’s visit followed the latter pattern. Lizzie finished reading, then brushed her mama’s hair, something they both felt to be soothing. Long gone was Evelyn’s shoulder-length hair, often done up in a French twist or a bun. The current bob displayed more gray than auburn now. It always looked in need of an extra-conditioning treatment. The eyes that watched Lizzie in the mirror were a dull green, lacking curiosity and animation.

She remembered sitting on the edge of the bed, as a child, watching Mama getting ready to go out on a date with Daddy. He’d phoned her after meeting in town with someone, although Lizzie couldn’t remember if she’d heard who or just forgotten those details. He told Evelyn to get all dressed up and to see if Lizzie could go to a friend’s house for the evening because they were going out to dinner at the dining room in the old Sheridan Arms Hotel. Her mama had pulled a floral chiffon short dress over her head and then set about combing her hair, securing it behind her ears with a set of pearl barrettes. Her eyes had danced as she’d applied some red lipstick to her smiling lips.

She’d promised Lizzie they’d all go out on a picnic the next day. And they had. They’d chased each other around the park. It had been a day of laughter. Evelyn had been so full of energy and fun in those days. She’d love to take her mama out for a run now, something to get her muscles back in shape. To get her laughing again.
Not going to happen.

The brushing done, Lizzie steered her mama back to her favorite beige lazy-lady chair, turned at right angles so that she’d have a view of one of the many colorful gardens surrounding the Manor. A stately moss-covered elm provided the backdrop.

A sharp knock at the door surprised Lizzie. She opened
it to find Molly cradling a large bouquet of freshly cut autumn flowers.

“I thought I’d find you here, honey. How’s our gal doing today?” Molly asked, kissing Lizzie on the cheek and moving swiftly over to Evelyn Turner to do the same.

“About the same, Molly. We just finished reading, and I was about to go.”

“Do wait for me, Lizzie. I just wanted to stop by with these. I think there’s a large vase on the shelf in her closet.” Molly looked as colorful as the bouquet, dressed in an orange and gold sheath, her hair held back with a large taupe bow.

Lizzie found it and filled it with water from the bathroom sink. “They’re beautiful, Molly. They’ll really brighten up the room. Thanks so much.”

Molly nodded and passed the flowers to Lizzie, who arranged them in the vase. Molly sat down on an ottoman next to Evelyn and took her hands in her own. “Evie, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. I need to talk to Lizzie, so I won’t stay. But I’ll be back soon, dear friend, and we’ll spend a lovely afternoon together.”

She squeezed Evelyn’s hands, gave her another kiss on the cheek and waited at the door while Lizzie said good-bye.

Once out in the hall, Molly grabbed Lizzie’s elbow and steered her toward the front door. “I’m taking you out to lunch, honey. I’ll bet you didn’t eat here and besides, I do need to talk to you.”

They agreed to meet at the Green Willows Restaurant, and Lizzie led the way out of the parking lot. At the restaurant, Molly asked for a table by the window, and they were seated overlooking the Tallapoosa River. Glasses of ice water appeared, as did the menus. Molly ordered them each a glass of Pinot Blanc.

“I think you deserve it and I need it,” she said with a wink. They placed their orders, Molly choosing fried bass with a mixed greens salad and Lizzie opting for prawns and
grilled vegetables, then toasted each other and took a long sip.

“Your mama is looking in good health, Lizzie. Did she do any talking today?”

“No, but she seemed to be trying to follow along with the story. She gets a look of concentration sometimes, like she’s trying hard to come out of herself, but that just may be wishful thinking on my part.”

“Nothing wrong with wishful thinking, honey.” Molly slipped her boxy cream-colored jacket off and draped it on the back of the chair. “Now, switching the topic— and rather abruptly I admit, and I do apologize for doing so— but I’m wondering if you’ve had a conversation with the police chief lately?”

Lizzie wondered for a split second how Molly knew about their hike but then decided it was simply a question.