I offered to pay and Tillie graciously accepted. We gathered our bags and walked around the corner to the low brick building that housed the police department.
A genial-looking man at the reception desk greeted us. “Isn’t it your day off, Tillie?”
She fluttered her fingers. “It’s okay. I’m helping Riley here with a question about that hippie midwife.”
I tilted my head away, hoping Tillie wouldn’t make any further announcements.
The man scratched his head. “Pru Brightwood?”
Is that how people thought of Pru? Hippie midwife?
Tillie shook her head. “No, the hit-and-run years ago.”
“Oh, Martha Woodley. She delivered my cousin! That was sad when she died.”
My stomach churned. Memo to self: Never tell Tillie anything you don’t want broadcast all over New England.
Tillie opened a door labeled Records at the end of the hall. Inside were ranges of metal shelving stuffed with cardboard boxes. Fluorescent lights hummed overheard as she led me to a shelf, craning her head. “There.” She pulled down a box and muttered as she flipped through manila folders with yellow labels. “They’re organized and cross-referenced by case file number usually, but because there was a death, she’d be in here by last name.” She pulled out a folder labeled Woodley, Martha.
I felt a pang—the poor woman’s death boiled down to papers in a folder.
“So what did you want to know?” She leaned a hip against the table and popped a stick of gum into her mouth.
I took a deep breath. “I heard about her death—a hit-and-run—and was wondering who found her body.”
Tillie opened the folder and took out a sheet of paper. “Here are maps and sketches of the scene where the body was found.” I peered over her shoulder. A quarter mile past the curve in the road where Martha had been struck was a waterfront property labeled Point O’ Woods. I blinked. That was Kyle’s family’s home.
She leafed through the papers. “Here’s the narrative. Body discovered by a man walking his dog. Mr. Nick Aldridge, a visitor from Hartford.” Tillie cracked her gum.
Nick Aldridge. Kyle’s uncle. “Thanks, you’ve been a big help,” I said.
“Any time.”
I hurried back to the street, sick with the thoughts churning in my mind. Had Mike been the father of Brooke’s child? Kyle? I shook my head. He’d always been with Nina. Was Nick Aldridge just a well-connected man who didn’t want his name in the paper? Was it an awful coincidence that Martha was killed shortly after Brooke died and that her body had been discovered by a member of Kyle’s family? Or had there been a conspiracy to silence Martha Woodley? Had Kyle silenced Brooke to save his friend Mike from scandal?
Driving back through Penniman’s rolling farmland, I realized that I didn’t know what to tell Pru, or even if I should tell her what I’d discovered. It was nothing that would ease her mind about Brooke Danforth. Pru had enough to deal with now.
My mind spun with questions as I turned into Farm Lane. As I drove past Udderly, I could see the interns working so we could have our celebratory dinner. Willow was going up the steps of the farmhouse, holding a platter.
I needed facts, something solid. I had one more stop to make, a test to prove a theory. I pulled into Aaron’s driveway, noting the closed curtains on his windows. The thought of entering that nightmare yard made me shudder, but I parked and walked toward his door. I could only imagine what roosted in the rusty hulks of the cars and piles of trash.
As I approached, Aaron opened his front door.
“Riley! What brings you round here this fine evening?”
I froze for a second then smiled. There was no window in his door, and curtains and blinds were drawn tight across his windows. I’d learned what I wanted to know. He’d seen me on a security camera.
Little McGillicuddy barked at Aaron’s heels as he moved slowly out the front door.
“Nice night,” I said.
“Ha? What’s that?” he bellowed as he adjusted his glasses.
I raised my voice. “You had footage of the night of the murder.”
“Nope. Nope. But between you, me, and the lamppost, I didn’t see anyone on the road anyway.” He shrugged and picked up McGillicuddy, evading my eyes.
He was lying.
“Please, Aaron,” I said. “I’m trying to help Caroline.”
He spoke louder. “I want to help Caroline too. Best way would be to convince her to sell. The real estate gal told me the developers have a good plan and it would even keep the ice cream shop for the new residents.”
“But you’ve lived here so long—”
“Going south in the winters now,” Aaron said. “My old bones can’t take the winters no more. We’re snowbirds, right McGillicuddy?”
This was going nowhere. “Good night, Aaron.”
I drove back and parked in front of Buzzy’s house.
The sound of conversation flowed out the door as I entered. Caroline, the Brightwoods, and the Gravers were gathered around a buffet spread on the dining room table. As usual, Sprinkles ignored me, but Rocky laced himself around my ankles. I picked him up and he let me nuzzle his soft head under my chin. “You’re home, you beast! Please always come home, Rocky, okay?”
“Come home?” Caroline said. “He was waiting for me when I came in.”
I told her about the ripped screen. “Hairy Houdini’s not the only escape artist on this farm.”
Only last week we’d gathered in a similar way. Now Mike was dead and Angelica hospitalized—gone from a golden athlete to a suspected murderer. Suspect Numero Uno. My head and heart were filled with sadness from the things I’d learned today, but I pushed them away.
I wanted things to go back to normal for a while, forget my scene with Emily, forget Martha Woodley, forget Brooke, forget Aaron’s deviousness. I forced a smile. “How were things at the shop today?”
“Great! Everyone here was such a help.” Caroline smiled, but her eyes were worried. I remembered that she was returning to Boston tomorrow. I decided to hold off on telling her what I’d discovered about Brooke.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” I said.
Our meal was surprisingly relaxing. As if by unspoken agreement, no one spoke of Mike or the investigation. The conversation was light, and laughter flowed. Even Sprinkles allowed a few pats on the head. It was as if, without words, we’d all decided to have one normal night, before whatever happened tomorrow happened.
Tomorrow came sooner than I thought.