ELEANOR SAT IN the old rocking chair on the porch, busy reading the newspaper. The minute I drove up, she tossed the paper aside and walked down the steps to the driveway. The look of anticipation and eagerness to hear the results of my visit with Dr. Crusher made me wince.

“I was starting to get worried. What took you so long?”

“Sorry. Took me a while to get through downtown. The place was packed full of reporters.”

Eleanor looked aghast as we walked toward the house. I took the stairs carefully, pretending to look for something in my purse as I motioned for her to go first. Once inside, I handed her the sack with her pills then sat on the couch.

“Thanks for picking these up,” Eleanor said after setting the package on the table. She retreated to the kitchen, mumbling as she walked. “Let me get you a fresh glass of tea and then you can tell me what Dr. Crusher said.”

Since Eleanor couldn’t see me, I rolled my eyes. In seconds, she was back with two full glasses of orange-lemon tea. Her favorite, not mine.

“Thanks, Eleanor. Visit went fine. The pain in my back is from a pulled muscle. Dr. Crusher said to take things easy for a while, alternate hot and cold packs, and plenty of hot showers. Gave me a prescription for muscle relaxers, too. Might take a week or so before I’m pain-free.”

I could tell from the disapproving look on Eleanor’s wrinkled face she didn’t buy my story. Guess my skills at lying were slipping.

“Well, that’s good to hear. At least it isn’t something permanent.”

Eleanor wasn’t a very good liar, either. I decided to change the subject before she pressed me for additional information.

“Ran into Gretchen Chase while filling your prescription. She had some interesting things to say about Martha Cayhill.”

Eleanor waved a dismissive hand in the air. “That woman’s always got something to say. Surprised she hasn’t choked on a bug as much as that mouth of hers flaps. Never understood why you two were friends. She may have money to buy expensive clothes, but that don’t mean her heart is pretty.”

“Oh, I agree with you one-hundred percent. She’s certainly not one of my favorite people in this town. Doesn’t change the fact about what she said in terms of Martha.”

Grimacing, Eleanor set the glass of tea on the table next to her and let out a sigh. Her gaze settled on the empty spot where family pictures used to sit. One of me and her son at our wedding; one of our son, William; and one of her son’s second wedding. I was so glad she removed them after I moved in. Though few, Eleanor did possess some positive qualities.

“Rumors spread around this place so fast makes my head spin. What did the old bitty have to say?” she asked.

“That Martha was killed somewhere else and recently dumped into the lake. Oh, and hinted Martha Cayhill wasn’t the saint she painted herself out to be.”

“Ain’t no one alive in this world that’s close to being the person they portray in public, so that’s not news. Why does she think Martha was killed somewhere else? News and paper ain’t mentioned anything like that.”

“She said Martha had marks on her that looked like she’d been tied up. Don’t know whether that part’s true, but the other part she mentioned certainly is. I know because I saw it with my own eyes.”

“What part?”

“She still had flesh on her. If she died over a year ago, she wouldn’t.”

Eleanor looked out the window. For a few moments she didn’t speak. I could tell she was struggling with what to say next. The muscles in her throat tightened and her thin lips pursed together. When she was in deep concentration, the resemblance to her son was downright eerie.

“You’re a strong woman, Renee. If I’da seen a dead body, well, I don’t know how I’d react. At my age, I’m sure a heart attack would follow.”

Taking a drink of tea to settle my own nerves, I wondered what hidden meaning the comment held. “Trust me, I freaked. Damn near fell off the boardwalk and into the water right next to her. I’m sure I’ll have nightmares for weeks.”

Eleanor turned her face away from the window. Her cloudy green eyes scanned my face. Confusion and a hint of irritation replaced the sad look from seconds before. “I still don’t understand what you were doing out at Suicide Lake. It’s dirty and I don’t just mean the water. The ground’s tainted from all the blood shed there over the years. Too many secrets hiding underneath the water. Wouldn’t have surprised me if you’d seen a ghost or two.”

I couldn’t stop the eye-roll at that comment. “Eleanor, there are no such things as ghosts.”

“You have your opinion, I have mine. Either way, the place ain’t safe—especially for a woman alone. What if you had fallen into the water and drowned?”

The conversation was taking a turn I didn’t like so I stood. “But I didn’t. Like I said that night, I just needed some time to contemplate things. The lake may be a cesspool but it is still beautiful at sunset. After what happened, I promise you I’ll never go back. Thanks for the tea, Eleanor. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a hot shower like Dr. Crusher suggested.”

I only made it to the doorway leading toward the bedrooms when Eleanor said, “I forgot to tell you. Detective Greenwood stopped by about an hour before you got home. He asked for you to call him when you returned. Said he needs to ask you a few more questions.”

Joy. So much for fading away into the woodwork. I couldn’t fathom what else there was left to ask me.

“Renee, before you take a shower, you might want to put your car in the garage. I noticed some strange vehicles driving by the house real slow earlier. Might be someone from the mortgage company or a process server skulking around.”

The stacks of green Certified Mail cards on the table insisting I come to the post office to pick up a registered letter sat on the counter. Eleanor was probably correct, for the foreclosure sale of my house was only weeks away. Grabbing the keys from my purse, I headed outside.

The temperature had dropped significantly from only minutes earlier. According to the six a.m. news, a chance of freezing rain and sleet before nine p.m. was likely. Yay! More cold weather to aggravate my bones.

After pulling the car in the garage, I decided to ask Eleanor if she would allow me to take her laptop into my room so I could search for jobs while resting on the bed. It wasn’t exactly a lie, because I certainly would peruse the skimpy classified listings, which would take me all of five minutes.

What I really wanted to do—uninterrupted—was search the Internet to see what various news sites were reporting about Martha Cayhill. If what Gretchen “Motor-Mouth” Chase said was true, surely some nosy reporter had sniffed out the truth and plastered it in cyberspace.

 

 

“GLAD YOU’RE HOME, Ms. Thornton. We need to talk.”

Jerking at the sound of Detective Greenwood’s voice from behind me made pain shoot through my lower back. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on people like that, Detective. Bad manners.”

“So is not returning a phone call when requested.”

Stopping at the edge of the steps, I glowered at Detective Dick. “I just got here. Didn’t you see me pulling into the garage?”

“Actually, no. I was on the phone. Things have been hectic the last forty-eight hours. Working a homicide isn’t easy.”

He looked beyond tired. Bone weary, like me. With a casual glance, I noticed he wore the same outfit he had on two days ago. The stubble was thicker and instead of a straw, his fingers fiddled with an unlit cigarette.

“As I told Mrs. Runsford, I have some items to discuss with you. You’ll need to come with me.”

Panic tore through my chest at the look on his face. Was he going to finish what he started at the lake and arrest me? Damn! I could just picture the look of repugnance on Eleanor’s face when she came to bail me out of jail—if she opted to spring me.

Dandy. A perfect end to a perfect day. Why didn’t I just jump in the lake when I had the chance?

“I don’t understand why you can’t just talk to me here, Detective. I’m very tired and in pain. My doctor said—”

“It won’t take long. There are some papers that need to be signed, and I didn’t bring them with me.”

Oh shit, he was going to arrest me. I sighed. “How much will the bail be? I’ll need to tell Eleanor.”

Detective Greenwood put the cigarette to his lips and lit it. The flame illuminated the deep creases in his forehead and cheeks. “I’m not arresting you, Ms. Thornton. We just need you to come to the station.”

“We?”

Nodding his head toward the unmarked unit at the edge of the driveway, Detective Greenwood responded, “Mayor Cayhill would like to speak with you. I’ll wait why you grab a jacket.”

Following his gaze, I looked at the sedan. Sure enough, Peyton Cayhill sat in the front seat. Stunned, unable to think of a plausible reason why I couldn’t go, I motioned for him to wait, turned and went inside.

“I see he didn’t feel like waiting for you to call him back. What’s going on, Renee?” Eleanor asked, looking up from her perch at the kitchen table.

Snatching up my jacket, annoyed at the fact the woman didn’t miss a damn thing, I responded, “Detective Greenwood said I need to go with him and sign a statement or something. Shouldn’t take too long.”

“Okay. I’ll fix you a plate and put it in the microwave. Um, hope you don’t mind, but I turned on the computer to check the weather. Noticed you had an email about a job, so I clicked on it. Hopefully, Detective Greenwood won’t keep you too long because you’ll need to respond back and confirm. Looks like you have an interview tomorrow at ten at the Mayor’s office.”

I let my irritation at Eleanor’s snooping slide. It wasn’t the first time she’d stuck her nose in my email account, and probably wouldn’t be the last. Considering I only used email as a way to let perspective employers contact me about a job and nothing else, it wasn’t like she’d find anything embarrassing.

“I don’t understand. I never applied for a job with the city!”

“Well, one can’t look a gift horse in the mouth, right? Maybe it’s the Mayor’s way of thanking you for finding his wife.”

My previous hesitation about getting into a vehicle with Detective Greenwood and the Mayor disappeared. Was it possible my shitty luck just changed? Did I dare even hope? A job with the city would certainly pay more than the call center, and the hours would be wonderful. No shift work. Maybe the salary would be enough, and in time, I could catch up on some back payments and get my house out of foreclosure.

“I’ll be back soon, Eleanor. Promise.”

“Good, because I fixed chicken and dumplings for supper. It’s best when fresh, not reheated.”

Detective Greenwood stood by the driver’s door, smoke billowing around his head like freight train steam. When he saw me exit the front door, he took one last drag and tossed the butt across the yard. He opened the back door and held it wide.

“Ms. Thornton, a pleasure to meet you.”

Unsure what to say to the man, I forced a smile and stuck out my hand. Mayor Cayhill clasped it and I suppressed the urge to cringe. His hand was slick, full of too much oil or lotion, and grip forceful. He must have noticed my unease because he graced me with a comforting smile.

“I’m sorry if Detective Greenwood hasn’t fully explained my riding along with him this afternoon. For one, I needed to get away from those dreadful reporters. The second reason is because I wanted to thank you in person. You’ve given me some closure to a very painful chapter of my life.”

Words finally formed and escaped my dry throat. “I’m sorry for your loss, sir.”

Detective Greenwood slid into the driver’s seat and fired up the car. After backing out and pulling onto the main road, Mayor Cayhill answered, “One person’s loss is another person’s gain, Ms. Thornton.”

He turned back around and faced the front. Not another word was spoken inside the car during the remainder of the ten-minute drive to the building housing Whitten County Sheriff’s Office.