“Tom! What are you doing here?” my mother asked as she joined Dylan, Tom, and me in the hall.
“I need to talk to you, Brianna.”
“It’s late, and you should leave.”
Tom strode past us and glanced at my father, still sitting at the kitchen table. “It doesn’t look like you’re about to go to sleep anytime soon. In fact, I’d say you’re having a party.”
“Not a party exactly.” My father came to stand with us. “Just some old friends getting together.”
Old friends, my foot. I couldn’t remember if Tom and my father had ever actually met, so I made the introductions as any good hostess would. “Tom, this is my dad, Jim Singleton. He’s spending a few days here in Clover Ridge. Dad, Tom Farrell.”
“A pleasure,” Jim said.
Tom ignored my father’s outstretched hand and glared at my mother. “So, Brianna, we run into a few problems and you call on your ex for comfort and consolation?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! I didn’t invite Jim to come here. And please stop calling me Brianna. My name is Linda.”
Already sloshed to the gills, Tom was totally incapable of dealing with the scene he’d encountered when he’d entered my cottage. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Feeling sorry for him, I took his arm and escorted him into the kitchen. “Why don’t you sit down and have something to eat?”
He nodded. “Thanks, Carrie. I never had dinner.”
I viewed the contents of what remained in my refrigerator and brought containers of chicken salad and tuna salad and more bread to the table. I grabbed the half-empty bottle of wine and slipped it into the pantry. Wine was the last thing Tom needed.
My father and Dylan returned to their places at the table and resumed eating. My mother hovered in the hallway. I beckoned to her and pointed to my seat. She made a face but sat down.
Silence reigned as I put on a large pot of coffee. I had a feeling the evening was far from over.
“I understand you’re here to make a movie,” my father said to Tom.
Tom nodded. He swallowed what he was chewing, then said, “We were making great progress; then one of the actors was murdered.”
“How terrible,” my father said.
“Tom’s costar and former fiancée,” my mother said.
“Nothing like keeping it in the family,” my father said.
Was that supposed to be humorous? I glared at him, but Jim didn’t notice. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Having made an effort to be social, he returned to his conversation with Dylan, for which I was grateful, as it filled the silence looming between my mother and Tom.
When the coffee was ready, I poured everyone a mug, then said, “Tom, I know you came here to speak to my mother. You can go into the den and talk to her there.”
My mother shot me a look of reproach. “Carrie, it would have been appropriate to ask me if I want to talk to Tom.”
“Sorry, but I’m caught in the middle, seeing you’re both here in my house. Please talk to Tom, find out what he wants, then … I don’t know. Do something!”
“Thank you, Carrie,” Tom said softly as he got to his feet. He seemed calmer, more in control of himself. “Brianna, Linda—whichever you prefer—I’d like you to hear me out.”
My mother nodded. She followed Tom into the den and closed the door behind them.
Five minutes passed. Ten. The door remained closed. Finally, Tom walked out, shaking his head. I hurried to him. “Are you all right?” I asked.
“As good as can be expected.” He looked morose but completely sober as he headed for the front door.
My mother waited until he was gone before she joined Dylan, my father, and me in the living room.
“Do you want to tell us what just happened?” my father asked as she sank into one of the chairs.
My mother could be very private when she chose, and I expected a snippy reply. Instead, she released a deep sigh. “Tom just admitted he’d been unfaithful to me with Ilana. He apologized for having lied to me and begged me to forgive him.”
“Why on earth did he feel it necessary to tell you now?” my father demanded. “After all, the poor woman’s dead.”
“Because he’s expected down at the precinct first thing tomorrow morning for another interview.” My mother cringed, and I knew how hard it was for her to share all this with us. “Tom thinks they must have found his fingerprints in Ilana’s room—on the nightstand or the bed linens, if they can get them off fabric.”
“I believe they can,” Dylan said softly.
“Anyway, he figured that word would get out somehow, and he didn’t want me to hear about his … indiscretion as a bit of gossip.”
I moved to stand beside my mother and put my arm around her shoulders. “That must be a shock to your system.”
She blinked back tears. “Especially after he swore repeatedly that nothing happened between them.”
“Did Tom say when it happened?” Dylan asked.
“It was the night she was murdered. After I had words with Ilana, I went back to the house we were renting, took a sedative, and fell asleep. Tom said he was too restless to watch TV. Since it was only a little past nine o’clock, he drove to the hotel to see who was around. He found Ilana in the lobby chatting with Serena. She invited him to her room for a drink, and it—just happened.” My mother rubbed at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Just happened, my patootie. He said when it was over, he was horrified by what he had done. He got dressed and left.”
“What time did he leave?” Dylan asked.
“Tom wasn’t sure, but he said he was back at our place at eleven fifteen.”
“Do you think Tom killed Ilana?” I asked.
My mother glared at me. “Don’t be ridiculous, Carrie. Of course he didn’t.”
“They could have argued,” Dylan said. “After all, she’d broken things off once, and suddenly she was coming on to him to make Dirk jealous. It’s enough to make any guy crazy. Add liquor to the mix.”
My mother shook her head. “Tom’s not one to explode in anger. He internalizes his pain. Don’t think for one minute that I plan to go back to him, but I know he didn’t kill Ilana.”
“Then who did?” my father wondered. “Someone in the cast or crew?”
“Could be, since she opened her door to whoever it was after Tom left,” Dylan said.
“Except I don’t see how that ties in with the other murder,” my father said.
My mother rose to her feet. “This has been an exhausting day. I’m going to bed.”
My mother was still asleep when I was ready to leave for work the following morning. I considered calling Sally to say I’d be taking a personal day so I could stay home with her, but I decided I couldn’t neglect my job because of my mother’s marital problems. Besides, weird though it seemed, my father had come to Clover Ridge to offer her his support and I, for one, was glad he was here.
I called Jim’s cell. He picked up immediately.
“Morning, Caro. Your mother up yet?”
“Still sleeping.”
He chuckled. “Linda does love her beauty sleep. Dylan’s gone for the day. I’m about to run out and buy some fresh bagels to bring over to your place for our breakfast.”
“In that case, I’ll leave the alarm off and the side door unlocked. And Dad …”
“Something bothering you?”
“You’re not … er … thinking of getting back together with Mom.”
“Of course not, honey.”
“She’s still married. And you two are so very, very different. Like water and oil.”
My father let out a deep sigh of exasperation. “Caro, I’m simply trying to be there for your mother when she needs a shoulder to lean on. I like to think in some small way it helps make up for all the times I wasn’t there and should have been.”
Is this my father talking? “All right, Dad. Talk to you later.”
Though the day was expected to eventually turn sunny, it was drizzling when I brought the cat carrier into the library. As soon as I released Smoky Joe, he took off to visit with his many friends. I walked over to the circulation desk to say hello to Angela and give her an abbreviated version of last evening.
“It sounds like a sitcom,” Angela said with a grin. “Do you think your parents will get back together?”
I shuddered. “My father says no, and I can’t even imagine such a thing happening. They’re two very different people in very different places in their lives. My mother just learned that her husband was unfaithful to her and that he might be charged with murder. As for Jim, I suspect he has a girlfriend he’s keeping under wraps.”
“Do you think Tom killed Ilana?”
“I don’t. Trouble is, I can’t imagine who did.”
“My money’s on Dirk,” Angela said. “He was in a relationship with Ilana and he used to come to Clover Ridge to visit relatives.”
“Still, there’s no evidence that he was here twenty years ago when Chet Harper was murdered.” I sighed. “From what I can see, there are no clues leading to any one person. There are no clues, period. John seems to focus on one suspect after another, but he can’t make his case.”
Angela raised her eyebrows. “Maybe it’s time you did some investigating on your own.”
“I plan to—from a safe distance. My days of chasing after suspects are over,” I said, then headed to my office.
I’d no sooner turned on my computer than the library phone rang. It was Robby.
“Hi, Carrie. Have you learned anything new regarding my sister’s murderer?”
“Sorry, no. I’ve been caught up in the other homicide that may or may not be related to Daphne’s murder. For a short while, my mother was a suspect because movie people overheard her threaten Ilana Reingold. And now my mother’s husband is being questioned by the police as a possible suspect. Though I can’t see how this is connected to Daphne.”
Robby sighed. “Me either. I’m calling to tell you that the police have released Daphne’s body. Her cremation is this afternoon. I’ve arranged a memorial service in her honor. I hope you’ll attend.”
“I’d like to very much. When is it?”
“Sunday, two days from now. At the Quaker meeting house down the road from the gym. I’ll text you the details.”
“Robby, Dylan’s secretary was able to track down your mother.”
Robby released a few deep breaths. “Really?”
“Yes. She’s remarried and is living on Long Island. Last night we had a rather upsetting gathering at my house and I forgot to get the information from Dylan. I’ll call you back as soon as I speak to him.”
“Thanks, Carrie. I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me. I need to talk to my mother. Find out why she abandoned Daphne and me when we needed her.”
“Robby.” I hesitated, knowing he wasn’t going to like what I was about to say. “She may not know herself why she left. Or give you the answer you want to hear.”
“She owes me an explanation,” he said stiffly.
“Do you want to hold off on Daphne’s service—until you contact your mother so you can offer her the chance to attend?”
“No,” he said firmly. “Given how she ran out on us, she’s not welcome at the service.”
“I understand. I’ll send you your mother’s address and whatever else Rosalind was able to find out.”
As soon as I ended the call, Evelyn appeared. She shook her head in mock amazement. “My goodness, Carrie. There’s never a dull moment where your family’s concerned.”
“You heard me talking to Angela.”
She nodded. “I was passing by and happened to hear you mention your father, and so I stopped to listen to the rest.”
“Right now Tom’s being questioned down at the police station while my father’s having breakfast with my mother,” I said. “Jim insists he’s only being a Good Samaritan.”
“Could be that’s all there is to the matter,” Evelyn said. “Besides,” she said, perching on the edge of my assistants’ desk, “he’s not the only one who’s been looking after your mother.”
For a minute I didn’t know to whom she was referring. “You mean me.”
“I do.”
“I feel sorry for her. Tom finally admitted that he betrayed her with Ilana. She says their marriage is over, but I don’t know if that’s true. Tom still loves her. And my mother’s been badly hurt. She’s not in any condition to make such a huge decision.”
Evelyn was grinning at me.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded.
“Nothing. I’m smiling at your compassion. Your loving-kindness.”
“Well, she is my mother,” I said begrudgingly. “And lately she’s been too upset to criticize me or put on airs.”
“Perhaps, but I think you and your mother are learning to relate differently to each other.”
“Could be,” I admitted. I smiled. “I’m glad she’s back to being Linda again.”
“The good solid name she was born with.”
“I suppose you heard my conversation with Robby.”
Evelyn nodded. “I did. Dylan’s secretary located his mother. I suppose Robby is pleased that she’s been found. That should make for an interesting conversation.”
“If she agrees to speak to him. Robby’s intent on asking his mother why she took off when she did. She may not be willing to talk about that.”
“There are more important matters at stake,” Evelyn said.
“Yes. Finding out if she had a lover. And if so, what was his name.”
“I’m thinking that you’re the one person who can ask her that delicate question.” Evelyn sent me an enigmatic smile and faded before I could protest.