Chapter 48
DeeAnn’s kitchen table was covered in the Martelino sisters’ scrapbooks. Some were haphazardly stacked, some wide open, and some were closed. But the Cumberland Creek scrapbookers were all enthralled. It was a reminder of one of the unspoken reasons they themselves scrapbooked—so that they left behind a neat and tidy pictorial record of their lives. Or at least the lives that they wanted others to know about.
They searched through the books for something—anything—that might be a clue. Not just to understand the cases, but to understand the young women and what brought them to the US. Each one of the sisters had a book focused on her childhood. A few pictures, some drawings, and journaling. All written in scribbled Spanish, which even Annie couldn’t read.
But the last books they had been working on had more photos. Photos of friends, of one another, of the town, Christmas celebrations, picnics, and so on.
“They seem to go on a lot of picnics,” Paige remarked.
DeeAnn set a plate of still-warm brownies in the center of the table. Each woman reached for one. There was nothing like a warm brownie.
“They liked being outside, that much is clear,” Sheila said with her mouth half full.
“Oh my GAWD, these brownies are good!” said Annie. “But back to the sisters—think about it. It must be so different here from where they grew up. They were probably in awe of the mountains and the seasons.”
“I imagine,” agreed DeeAnn, turning the page on the scrapbook she was looking over. Esmeralda had a good eye for color and placement of her photos.
“I just don’t see anything here,” Sheila said, shutting the book she had been looking over and reaching for another brownie.
DeeAnn turned the page again. It wasn’t falling back into place and was a bit wavy. Something was off in the book. “Wait. This is strange.”
“What?” Annie said, leaning over toward her.
DeeAnn flipped the page again. “I think a page is missing here.”
“Let me see. You’re right. Look.” Sheila ran her finger along the inside of the book where the pages came together. “Someone ripped the page out.”
“Maybe it’s the page that the police found on her?” Annie wondered.
“Even if it is, what does that tell us?” Paige asked.
The women sat in silence for a few minutes in DeeAnn’s kitchen, decorated in bright red strawberry patterns—the curtains, the tablecloth, pot holders, and dish towels. Even her tea kettle had strawberries on it.
“I wonder if we can find where the missing page is in Marina’s book,” Sheila said.
“I think we have one more of her books over here,” Paige said, reaching for the book in question and sliding it into the center of the table.
Jacob walked into the kitchen. “Hello, ladies.”
Halfhearted hellos came from the circle of women around the table. They were engrossed in searching for clues.
Jacob went over to DeeAnn and kissed her. “I’m going to the store. You need anything?”
“No thanks,” DeeAnn said, only half paying attention to him. They were on to something. She could feel it. Jacob’s presence was disturbing the energy in the room and she wanted him to leave.
He left and it was as if the room sighed in relief.
“Here,” Paige said. “Here’s where the missing page is.”
“Aha,” Annie said, lifting the other books from the table and setting them on the floor. She set both books open to where the pages were missing. Pages before and after were about a hike or picnic, which was exactly what was on the pages found on their bodies.
“There must be something about this day,” Annie said.
“We need to find out more about it. When was it? Who was there? What significance did it have in their lives?” said Vera.
“But why?” Sheila said. “How will that help?”
“Think about it, Sheila,” Paige said.
“Oh don’t make me think!” Sheila tittered. “That’s the last thing I want to do!”
“Do you think a killer would leave clues so blatantly like that?” DeeAnn questioned.
“It wasn’t really blatant,” Annie said. “I mean, the police looked for fingerprints and stuff on the actual pages, but they didn’t look in their scrapbooks. Why would they?”
“Besides, some killers like to leave clues. Deep down, they really want to get caught. It’s a cry for help,” Vera said.
All of the women looked at her. It was an odd thing to hear coming out of her mouth.
She frowned. “What? Don’t you watch CSI?”
“What’s that?” Paige asked.
“It’s a TV show,” Vera said.
“Oh, well you know how I feel about TV,” Paige said.
“So all we need to do is figure out what happened on this day. Reconstruct it and it might lead us to the killer before he kills again,” Vera said.
“Exactly,” Annie replied. “First order of business is to get copies of the pages from the police. Then I’ll talk to Rosa. Maybe she was there that day.”
“I have a better idea,” DeeAnn said. “Why don’t you take the copies with you on Friday night. You’re going to their crop, right?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure I want to wait until then. I feel a sense of urgency about this.” Annie said. “Two women have been killed. We’re not sure how many others there could be, given that employees have been disappearing from the Pie Palace for years, evidently. We don’t know if they were all linked, but we know at least two were.”
“Should we take the books to Bryant and tell him our theory?” Paige asked.
The mention of Bryant’s name made DeeAnn’s face redden. She still could not believe that Karen was dating him.
Annie didn’t notice DeeAnn’s embarrassment as she was deep in thought. “I think we should keep this all to ourselves for now, until we find something more substantial. Really, at this point, it’s all conjecture.”
The slight quiver in her voice led DeeAnn to believe it was more than that. She felt it in her bones that reconstructing the scrapbooked day was going to lead them straight to the killer.