A Most Curious Murder (5 page)

In the morning, Jenny drove to Draper’s Superette. Dora was at Zoe’s. She couldn’t stand the thought of Zoe being alone. That left Jenny to play provider and search for provisions.

She drove into the familiar, unpaved parking lot and parked amid a long line of blue, red, and black pickups.

The small market sat away from the commercial parts of town, in the midst of the forest, with Lake Michigan as a backdrop. Today the waterscape, off on the horizon, was a sheet of sun sparks. Her hands cupped above her eyes, it made her smile to watch the lake move in ridges of light. It could have been the backdrop to her life, the one immutable forever. No matter what terrible things happened, she had to admit she was happier here on the side of the lake where she’d grown up, where life didn’t whirl past as it did in Chicago.

Jenny took a single, long breath and headed toward the market.

Despite the out-of-town location, Draper’s was the town center for neighbor meeting neighbor, for gossip spreading, for reputations ruined, but also for money raised for a family in need, for funeral expenses if a family had no money. Draper’s was where clothes and toys and furniture and food were collected,
where notices went up for spaghetti suppers in aid of those whose houses burned or were struck by a tornado or crushed in a winter of record snow.

After Johnny Arlen dropped her and married Angel, she’d stopped going to Draper’s. The market had blazed with indignation—people on both sides, hers or Johnny’s. She even heard of a fistfight or two in the parking lot over who was at fault.

Wind off the lake pushed at her as she headed toward the store, where old, out-of-date posters hung in the large, flyblown windows. A half-torn banner advertising a winter sale on antifreeze flapped over the automatic front doors. Two ancient benches, touting a defunct auto repair shop, sat out front, while shopping baskets gathered helter-skelter, one—wind behind it—making a wild break for freedom across the gravel lot.

Besides being Bear Falls’ idea of a general store, Draper’s attracted elderly men who hung out on the hard, red benches in the tiny coffee shop. They noted the coming and going of every customer—with a comment for each. Greek chorus of Bear Falls, Jenny called them.

She grabbed one of the abandoned carts on her way through the automatic door and was immediately hit by familiar smells: lettuces and peaches and cleaning fluids—all lumped together. Bakery scents and fish.

She moved fast, past the coffee shop, waving to the elderly gentlemen sitting in the plastic booths.

“Jenny! Jenny Weston!” she heard as she wheeled by a display of spaghetti sauce.

Cassandra Hatch, an acquaintance from high school, stood in her usual place behind a checkout counter, waving and smiling as wide as a smile could get. “Heard you were back.
Come through my line, okay? I’m dying to find out how you’ve been doing.”

“I sure will,” Jenny called back to her.

Cassandra was one of those girls you remember from high school as kind of sweet. Maybe a little sad. Even in high school, Cassandra had an old woman’s face: wrinkled forehead, squinty eyes. There’d been talk that her mama ran her father off for taking liberties with Cassandra no father should take. Jenny didn’t hear it directly; it came from a neighbor, Minnie Moon. She and Mom had been standing out front, talking. Jenny overheard. It was one of those things a girl knew right away was bad. One of those things you didn’t talk about with anyone. It was something that made you know you were growing up and made you realize you didn’t want to.

Cassandra was going to ask about the police at Jenny’s house. Then she’d apologize for asking and move quickly on to updating Jenny how her kids were doing or how her husband, Dave, got shot outside of Billy’s Bar but was doing fine now . . .

Jenny pushed her cart through the produce section, picking up a bundle of fresh asparagus because she loved when things were fresh out of the ground, when she could smell the earth on them.

Early tomatoes were in from the fields. They looked good—maybe a caprese for Mom. She’d liked that when she visited Chicago. A bed of lettuce drizzled with a balsamic vinegar glaze, covered with slices of fresh tomato, fresh mozzarella on top, a leaf of basil, a little salt . . .

She was hungry.

At the cheese counter, she searched for tubs of fresh mozzarella.

Lots of sliced cheese, and hunks of cheese, and strings of cheese. But nothing fresh. That ruled out the caprese. For future
reference, she hunted for fresh basil. Only the dried stuff. She looked for the balsamic glaze—nothing even close.

“I’m not in Kansas anymore,” she whispered to herself and then went in search of a fresh chicken.

Plenty of chickens—that was a good sign. Lots of root vegetables: celery, carrots, onions . . .

She turned to set a large onion in her basket and ran straight into Angel Arlen, who threw her hands up to stop the charge.

“What do you know?” Angel put a hand at the small of her back and smirked. “Is that really you, Jenny Weston?”

Angel was pregnant again, Jenny saw at once because she couldn’t not notice. Angel looked like an upside-down musical note, all puffed in front.

A girl of about ten stood behind Angel. The thin child kept her head down, staring at the floor, lifting and dropping her right shoulder, as if from a nervous tic. Never once did the girl glance up at Jenny.

Angel’s tight T-shirt had a big arrow down the front, leading to the word
Baby
. As if anyone wouldn’t have guessed.

Jenny choked down surprise and ransacked her brain for something to say to this woman who’d ruined her life.

Angel leaned back on the heels of her old tennis shoes, one hand now atop her swollen belly. She tried to smile, but it fell short—her mouth curving nervously up on one side. “To tell the truth, I heard you was home.”

Jenny nodded and forced a smile. “I’ll bet you did.” She kept her voice warm to hide her inner thoughts.

Eighteen years ago Angel had been the hottest girl in town. Her long, blonde hair—now twisted into a greasy knot at the back of her head—used to hang down past her butt. A sight for the boys to see as she strutted up Oak Street in a T-shirt with no bra, breasts bouncing just enough, hips swaying more than enough to get her
message across. In any town, Angel would have been called “easy.” In Bear Falls, the word “Angel” didn’t come with a kind smile—more with a sniff and a roll of the eyes. Mothers warned mothers. Those mothers warned their boys to keep away. And even Pastor Senise, at the Bear Falls Evangelical Church, was known to whisper to boys he hoped to protect from the rude world, “Angel is no Angel, my son. Best to mind your thoughts around her.”

The short shorts were still there, only wrinkled, with a stain just below where her pink top stretched over her belly. Ugly, blue veins ran up her right leg. Wrinkles formed around her narrowed eyes as she spoke. She’d aged badly, but maybe having one daughter who was—Jenny racked her brains—about seventeen by now, and this ten-year-old, all of that plus putting up with Johnny wore her out too soon.

“I hardly recognized you,” Angel said after turning to hush her daughter, who whispered that she wanted to go home. The girl’s face, when she looked at her mother, was sullen, ruining her slight features. Jenny could see Johnny in the long shape of the girl’s head, in the intense blue eyes, in the straight, brown hair. She felt a little sick in the pit of her stomach.

“Me either,” Jenny said. “And this is your daughter? Second one, right?”

“Janice.” Angel reached out to touch the girl, who ducked away from the hand.

“How nice for you.” Jenny swallowed, making herself take a breath. “And I see you’re pregnant again.”

“What do you mean ‘again’? You think I’ve got too many? This is only my third, Jenny Weston.” Angel narrowed her eyes to slits.

“That’s not what I meant . . .”

“You ever get married?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t help adding, “He’s an attorney in Chicago.”

“You always were going to be a career girl. That’s what Johnny said.”

“I am.”

“Doin’ what?”

Jenny smiled, then lied, “I’m in law.”

Angel looked away, a blue tinge staining the skin beneath her tired eyes.

They glanced around the store at other shoppers, then back to each other. They each put on forced smiles and looked away again.

Angel tipped her head to one side. “Hear you had trouble over at your house.”

Jenny nodded, then shrugged.

“Your mom okay?”

“Sad. A despicable thing to do, ruining her Little Library.”

“And Adam Cane dead. People say maybe that little lady did it. They didn’t get along, you know.”

“People are wrong.”

“Oh,” Angel said.

They went back to shuffling their buggies back and forth, harsher things they wanted to say prancing between them like angry little horses.

“How’s your oldest daughter doing?” Jenny finally asked. “What’s she? Seventeen?”

Angel perked up. “Yeah. Margo. Eighteen. She’s fine. Got married last year. Got herself pregnant. Didn’t want to finish high school anyway. She figured she might as well just go ahead and get married.”

“So you’re a grandmother.”

“Yeah. At thirty-six. Go figure. My kid will be younger than my grandkid.” She smirked as if she’d accomplished a mighty deed. “You got any kids?”

Jenny shook her head.

“That’s too bad.” Angel batted her lashes.

They looked away from each other again.

Angel finally said, “Saw Lisa a couple of times. Never you.”

She waited, as everyone seemed to, as if an apology should follow. Jenny felt her face flush.
Okay, lady
, she thought.
If you want to tangle . . .

“I’m here to help my mom out. She’s a little tired. Lisa can’t come home. You heard she’s in Montana shooting a movie?”

“Yeah, I heard. Your mom sick?”

“No. She’s fine.”

“How long you plan on staying?”

Jenny shrugged, liking the anxious tone in Angel’s voice. “A while, I guess. Kind of a vacation, too.”

“What about your husband? He like that you’re gone? I’d never leave Johnny all alone like that.”

“We’re both very busy.”

Angel’s smile went from anxious to keenly interested. “Bet you don’t stay in Bear Falls long. Sure isn’t Chicago. Real quiet . . . well, except for over at your place . . . Everybody’s talking, you know, like maybe you brought Chicago crime back with you.”

“I’ll bet.” Jenny smiled as if she wasn’t being sarcastic. She pushed her buggy back and forth again, eager to get back to shopping—or anywhere else.

“Hope you don’t expect to see Johnny.” The words came out low, mean, and direct. Angel put one hand on Jenny’s cart to hold her in place while reaching out with the other to swat her whining daughter.

“Why on earth would I want to?” Jenny let out the tiniest amount of disgust.

“You know damned well—the way he dumped you and all. I always thought maybe you’d come back and try to get even with me for snatching him away from you.”

Jenny gave her a slow once over, dirty feet to greasy hair. She shook her head. “I’ve got nothing to get even for, Angel.”

“Hope you’re not taking what I say in a negative way.”

“Don’t worry.” She pushed her buggy hard to dislodge Angel’s hand. “Let’s just agree to stay away from each other. That all right with you? Makes me feel bad—you embarrassing yourself like this. Honestly, I wouldn’t touch Johnny with a ten-foot pole.”

“You don’t have to get mean about it.”

“Bye.” Jenny gave a backhanded wave as she hurried off.

“I’ve been praying for you,” Angel called after her.

Jenny kept going, thinking,
And I’m alive anyway
.

The last thing she needed were prayers from this Angel.

Any appetite she had for shopping or cooking or eating or anything else involving staying at Draper’s was gone. She picked up two cans of Campbell’s Chicken Soup and a box of crackers. Mom wouldn’t care. She didn’t have much of an appetite anyway. Canned soup might be good for her. Better than petrified eggs.

She made her way to the checkout and waited in Cassandra Hatch’s line. The woman, her bundled red hair falling forward over her shoulder, reached across the checkout counter and grabbed Jenny’s hand to shake it three times.

“Been ages since you were back. Bet you’ve got all kinds of stories to tell, living in Chicago this long.”

“That’s for sure.”

“Heard about what happened over at your mom’s place. Give her my best and tell her I’ve got a couple of Nancy Drews I’ll pitch in for a new library. Everybody’s been saying they’ve got
books for her. And what happened to Adam Cane . . . nobody can believe it. Not in Bear Falls!”

Jenny felt at home for the first time. This was what she remembered: bits of well-meaning gossip, lazy conversations by the falls at the end of Oak, small-town life and small-town people. “Sad, I know,” she said and frowned. “And I’ll tell Mom about the books. She’ll be happy. Thanks.”

Cassandra leaned across the counter, motioning Jenny to move in closer.

“Angel’s in the store.” She gave Jenny a sympathetic smile.

Jenny shrugged. “I saw her. We talked.”

Cassandra’s watery eyes wrinkled at the corners. “You were the lucky one, you know. Johnny’s got a reputation. Drinks bad. I think he runs around on Angel, is what I heard.” She gave Jenny a meaningful glance. “Angel did you a favor.”

Jenny thanked her and meant it. There were things only women could say to each other. Things that sneaked behind a brave smile.

Cassandra, finished with town gossip, lowered her voice. “You heard what happened to Dave? Got shot in the groin over at Billy’s Bar. But don’t worry.” Cassandra shrugged. “He’s gonna be fine . . . though . . .” She narrowed her eyes and gave Jenny a sly smile. “I might not have to worry about getting pregnant again.”

It was high school all over again, snickering at the expense of a boy. Jenny reached out and squeezed Cassandra’s arm, a signal they both knew the painful joke beneath the words.

After checking out and promising to stay in touch, Jenny pushed the buggy to her car and stowed her slim bag of groceries in the trunk. She slammed the lid and looked around the full lot. A tall man standing next to a dark-blue pickup was
watching her. The man, only a silhouette against the high sun, leaned back on his truck and crossed his arms.