Chapter Nineteen
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay while I record the podcast?” Hope asked as she inspected Devon’s podcast equipment all set out on her kitchen table. Her nerves were still frayed from last night’s encounter with Gail, and now her stomach quivered as she thought about recording the podcast.
When she’d called Felice earlier, it had seemed like a good idea. Now? She had her doubts.
“I’m sure.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. She’d seemed relieved to hand over the equipment.
After Felice unpacked the box of equipment, Hope gave her the earrings Joyce had left at the antique shop all those years ago. Hope had planned on giving them to her friend at the funeral, but now, alone in the kitchen, she thought it was the right time to give Joyce’s earrings to her daughter. Hope had cleaned the earrings before setting them in a small jewelry box.
Felice cried when Hope explained where the jewelry came from, and she quickly changed out her diamond studs for her mother’s delicate earrings.
“I don’t know how I can ever repay you for everything you’ve done. You almost got yourself killed.” Felice’s gratitude was eclipsed by her grief from her losses, almost exactly twenty years apart. She tucked her stud earrings into the box.
Hope didn’t want anything in return for what she’d done. She was glad justice was finally being served. Even if it took twenty years.
“I thought Gail was my friend. I thought I knew her, but . . .” Felice’s voice hitched. “But I knew nothing about her. How could I not have seen how evil she was?”
Hope reached out and rubbed Felice’s arm. “People like her are very careful to let others only see certain things. I thought we were friends too.”
The discovery of Gail’s true colors chipped away at Hope’s heart. Once again, she had to face the fact that people could be horrible and cruel. Fortunately, those individuals were few and far between.
Felice’s chin trembled. “I don’t know what it says about me, because I believed her lies all these years.”
“Hey, we all did. There’s nothing wrong with you or me. This is all on Gail and her father.”
“I guess you’re right. I also guess it’ll take some time to come to terms with everything that has happened.” Felice adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder. “I should get going. Thank you for recording the last episode of the podcast.”
“It’s my honor to do so. Call me, okay?”
Felice smiled and gave Hope a final hug before leaving the house. With the door closed and Felice heading toward her car, Hope let out a sigh of relief. Though she didn’t say it out loud, she was thankful Felice opted not to stay and listen. She really didn’t want an audience for the recording of the final episode of Search for the Missing.
While Hope had waited for Felice to arrive, she’d done an online search on how to operate the equipment. She’d never recorded a podcast before, but had been thinking about starting one for her blog. Now was her chance to take podcasting for a test drive.
Hope gathered up all the equipment and carried it to her office. The late morning sun streamed into the room, warming the space and reminding her that it was a good day for a good day. She first saw the saying years ago on a sign when shopping the Elephant’s Trunk Flea Market in New Milford. She didn’t get it then.
Now she did.
Last night, she’d come face-to-face with a killer and managed to escape unharmed.
Today was most certainly a good day for a good day.
She tucked her chair under her desk. Her stomach fluttered, creating a cold space threatening to overtake her. She inhaled a deep breath.
I can do this.
Set up on her desk was all of Devon’s podcasting equipment. What Devon used wasn’t fancy or expensive. It was functional and, lucky for Hope, it was easy to get set up quickly.
She was all ready to go. The coldness in her belly grew. It was her nerves, and she was second-guessing her decision. Was recording the episode the right thing to do? Felice had given her blessing. She believed it was a good idea to bring closure to Joyce’s story and to tell Devon’s listeners about the tragic ending of her life.
No pressure there.
Hope took in another deep breath, released it, and then pressed the Record button before she changed her mind. She leaned forward to the microphone.
“Welcome to the final installment of Search for the Missing.” She heard her voice, too soft, too fast. She had to try it again. “Welcome to the final installment of Search for the Missing.” Better. She continued. “I’m Hope Early, in for Devon Markham.”
She paused and swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Devon began this podcast to work through her own emotions about her mother’s disappearance twenty years ago and recently had begun her own investigation. She took you along with her as she dug into the case. Sadly, Devon is not here with us any longer to continue this podcast.
“I’m recording this episode because her quest to find out the truth about her mother’s disappearance led to Devon’s own death, which has been classified as a homicide. Gail Graves and her father, Ernie Graves, have been arrested for the murders of Joyce Markham, Devon Markham, and Donna Wilcox, a friend of Joyce’s and my attempted murder.
“So as not to compromise the case that will be brought against Gail and her father, I’m not going to share the conversation I had with Gail last night, or describe what occurred before the police arrived. All of that will come out soon enough.”
Her throat tightened as the struggle with Gail flashed in her mind.
Get it together, girl.
“What I want to tell you today is about the Devon I knew all those years ago. And I want to share with you her mother’s sugar cookie recipe. Yes, I know this isn’t a foodie podcast. Please, bear with me.”
Along with the podcast equipment, Felice had dropped off her mother’s cookie recipe, which she got from her aunt. It seemed fitting to share it with Devon’s listeners.
“Devon wanted answers not only about her mother’s case, but about the other cases she covered on this podcast. She wanted to make sure those women were not forgotten. I’d like to encourage all of you to consider making Joyce’s cookies. While we can’t always find justice, we can bake a little kindness and share it with those around us. Maybe we all can bake the world a nicer place to be, and podcasts like this won’t be needed any longer.”
Sharing her memories of Devon from high school helped Hope become more at ease in front of the microphone. She fell into a natural rhythm and even laughed at a few of the memories.
There were a few stories she’d long forgotten about, but they popped into her head as she continued to talk. There would be a lot of editing to do later, but maybe she’d just put it out there real and raw.
Hope turned off the recording and removed the headset. The session had run well over an hour. Too long for a podcast episode, in her opinion. Once she began talking, she couldn’t stop, and that surprised her. She’d never thought she’d feel so at ease recording. She was one of those people who didn’t like the sound of her own voice, and that made editing her videos challenging for her.
Now she needed to edit the session.
But first, she had a cake to bake.
* * *
Two hours later, with the podcast recorded and the kitchen cleaned up from her baking session, the timer dinged, signaling to Hope that her two-layers of marble cake were ready to come out of the oven. She savored the moment of opening the oven door and inhaling the heavenly scent of fresh-baked cake.
She wasn’t the only one in the house intoxicated by the fragrance. Bigelow had come trotting in with his nose held high.
She eyed her dog. He’d never turn down food, but she wasn’t about to offer him any of the cake. Leaving the layers to cool, she went for the container of his homemade treats. She gave him one and he chomped and swallowed. A quick lick to his lips and he was ready for another one.
“Okay. One more. But that’s it.” She handed over another peanut butter cookie and then fastened the lid and returned it to its spot on the countertop. The front doorbell rang, and she passed by Bigelow, patting him on the head.
At the front door, she peeped out the side window and then smiled.
She opened the door to her very much welcome visitor.
“Hi, Amy.”
“Hey, Hope. Do you have a minute?”
“Of course. Come on in.” By the time Hope closed the door, Bigelow had joined them and was relishing the attention from their guest. “Let me take your coat.”
“It’s okay. I can’t stay long. I know you must be busy.” Amy unzipped her parka.
Hope nodded. She wasn’t going to argue. She had to frost the cake, photograph it, and then take it over to Iva’s house. A little peace offering, she hoped.
“Do I smell cake?”
“You do. It just came out of the oven. Come on.” She led Amy into the kitchen. “It’s a marble cake. Don’t mind the mess.” She was referring to the photography equipment set up around the table and the various serving pieces laid out for her to choose from after she frosted the cake.
Amy stopped at the island and looked at the two cooling cake pans. “The smell is intoxicating.”
Hope retrieved a plate from an upper cabinet and turned out the first cake layer and rested it on the cooling rack. “It’s taking all my strength not to dive into them.” She turned out the second cake layer. “What brings you by?”
“I came to apologize for my behavior the other day. I was awful to you.” Amy’s gaze flicked downward, and her shoulders slumped.
Hope reached out and touched Amy’s arm. “If it was my mother, I probably would have behaved the same way.”
“No. You wouldn’t have. I blew up and said things I’m so very sorry for.”
“I accept your apology. How’s your mom doing?”
Amy shrugged. “Right now, she’s so upset about Donna. I can’t believe Gail killed her. Or Devon and her mother. I thought we knew Gail.”
“It seems like we don’t really know people the way we think we do.”
“I guess you’re right.” Amy glanced at her watch. “I’d better get going. Thank you for accepting my apology.”
“I’m glad we’re past the incident.” Hope hugged Amy and then walked her to the door. “Be careful driving.” A new round of snow had begun falling and the forecast wasn’t good. The B-word was still being used. Again. Another blizzard was on the horizon. It looked as if her weekend getaway with Ethan wasn’t going to happen.
A woof drew her attention toward the kitchen. Knowing her dog as well as she did, she wasn’t surprised to find him seated beside the island with his snout in the air, sniffing the cake. But it was Princess who drew her interest. The cat slinked by with a tube of Hope’s berry-flavored lip balm and trotted up the staircase.
“No. It couldn’t be.” Or, could it? Hope followed the fluffy feline up the stairs and down the hall to the bathroom. The door was ajar, and Princess slipped into the room. Hope pushed the door open and entered. Princess looked up at Hope, her eyes wide open, and inched slowly back with the tube of lip balm still in her mouth. “What are you doing, sweetie?” Hope kept her voice soft, and she peered around the door and found her bracelet and mascara.
Those two items were piled on top of a green washcloth and a pair of socks Hope had thought she’d misplaced a month ago. The little fur ball must have raided the laundry basket.
“You gotta be kidding me.” Hope looked back at her cat. “You really are the thief. Iva was right.” She expelled an aggravated breath. “You know what this means, don’t you? I have to apologize to her. Good thing I baked the cake.” She walked around to the other side of the door and retrieved her missing belongings and then took the lip balm tube out of Princess’ mouth. “You can’t keep stealing things.” Princess blinked twice and then strolled out of the bathroom.
Clearly, the cat was having none of the lecture. Hope stood with her belongings cradled in her hands. She had to give it to the cat for finding a good hiding spot. Hope rarely came into the room because it was in dire need of a remodel. The tile floor was grimy and chipped. And then there was the tub and sink. Both were ancient, and the toilet looked unstable. The room definitely needed a makeover and she had big plans for it. All she needed was a big budget.
She carried her items out of the bathroom and dropped them off in her bedroom before returning to the kitchen to frost and photograph the cake.
* * *
Hope braved the wind on the front porch of Iva’s rental house. She’d recently moved so she could have her mother stay with her. On the other side of the door, she heard footsteps approaching, and then the door opened.
“Didn’t expect to see you here.” Iva took a drag of her cigarette.
Not much of a greeting, but because it was Iva, Hope hadn’t expected much more.
“I came to apologize to you.” Hopefully, Iva would be as forgiving as Hope was earlier with Amy. “And I brought you a cake!” Hope lifted the cake box up higher and smiled.
“Cake, huh? You think you can make up for accusing me of stealing with a cake?”
Iva had no intention of making this easy for Hope. “It’s a marble cake with chocolate frosting. I remember you saying it’s your favorite cake.”
Iva rolled her eyes. “All right, come on in.”
Thank goodness. It was freezing out there. Hope dashed inside and followed Iva to the small but functional kitchen. Rental bland with no pops of color, it was all white, with well-used appliances.
“Set it on the table.” Iva busied herself with gathering the plates, forks, and a cake knife. “There’s coffee if you want some. Help yourself.” She took a final drag of her cigarette and discarded it in an ashtray on the countertop.
Hope poured a cup of coffee and pulled out a milk carton from the refrigerator. “I’m sorry I suspected that you stole my bracelet and mascara.” She sat at the table.
“Mascara? I’d never steal mascara from someone. That’s unsanitary.” Iva opened the box and pulled out the cake.
Good to know Iva had boundaries.
Iva cut two generous slices. “My mother will enjoy a slice of this later when she wakes up from her nap.” She set a plate in front of Hope and then closed the lid of the box after sitting down with her plate. She took a forkful and chewed. “This is delicious.”
“Thank you.” Hope ate her bite and concurred with Iva’s assessment. The cake was moist, and the flavors of the two layers and the frosting mingled together, creating a very happy moment for her taste buds.
“I’m guessing you found the missing items.”
Hope swallowed her second bite of the cake. Now it was time to fess up about who the real thief was and brace for Iva’s I-told-you-so speech.
“I did. It was Princess.” She dipped her head and ate another piece of cake.
“Aha! I told you so! Cats are sneaky little creatures. Where’d you find her loot?”
“The upstairs hall bathroom.”
“Sneaky and smart. She knows you don’t go in there.” Iva ate another bite of cake. “I accept your apology.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I understand why you thought it may have been me. There was a time in my life when I wasn’t the most honest person. But I’m trying not to be that person anymore.”
“I know you are.”
“It’s going to take time for me to rebuild trust with everyone.”
“Rebuilding trust doesn’t come quick, but I think it’s worth it. I need to work on being less judgmental.”
“We all got something we need to improve, don’t we? I thought by now I’d have my whole life figured out.”
“We did have big plans back in high school, didn’t we?”
“We did. But I guess it’s not too late to try to make them happen. I mean, it’s the least we can do for Devon.”
Iva’s sentiment struck Hope hard. Devon had wanted to see justice done for her mother. She’d ended up giving her life for that justice.
“You’re right. Look, we have our rocky history, but I’d like to be a part of your big plans. Will you come back to work for me?”
Iva took another forkful of cake and chewed it slowly. After she swallowed, she nodded. “Yeah, I’ll come back.”
“Wait, there’s one more thing.”
Iva tilted her head. “Really? After you accused me of stealing?”
“Do you know a snowplow guy I can hire? A blizzard is coming.”
Iva burst out laughing. “I know a guy. But don’t go and accuse him of murder.”
Hope joined Iva and laughed. “I promise I won’t. I’m done with this amateur sleuthing thing.”