News of last night’s incident had already reached the library by the time I arrived at work on Thursday morning.
“I heard someone threw a rock through your living room window,” Angela said, looking worried. “Weren’t Billy and his mom there for dinner?”
“As were my aunt and uncle and John and Sylvia. Thank goodness no one got hurt. The glazier was heading for the cottage to replace the window as I left for work,” I said. “How did you find out so quickly?”
“Danny’s mother called Mom while we were having breakfast.”
I laughed. “I should have figured.”
“What did Billy’s mother have to say?” Angela asked.
“John’s sworn us to secrecy, but I’ll fill you in as soon as I can.”
Angela’s eyes lit up. “I can hardly wait.”
I had no sooner unlocked the door to my office than Evelyn appeared. Since John had told us not to breathe a word of last night’s revelations to any living soul, I felt free to share Sheila’s story with her.
“Poor Pattie, or whatever she’s calling herself these days,” she said when I’d finished. “Are you thinking that Hattie Fein is Helen Stravos?”
“Difficult to say. Hattie has black hair and Helen’s hair was auburn. But people dye their hair all the time. Hattie’s in her fifties, which Helen would be now. And she was here in Clover Ridge when both women were murdered. Not to mention the barrette that’s the same kind of crafty work Helen Stravos did all those years ago.”
“I’m sure John is checking out this Helen Stravos every which way he can,” Evelyn said. “I think he’s getting closer to resolving these homicides.”
“So do I,” I said. “The stone thrower’s license plate number might be the best lead we have.”
John called me just before I was about to leave for the Cozy Corner Café with Angela. “I figured you’d appreciate an update after last night’s revelation.”
“I sure would.”
John exhaled a deep sigh. “Unfortunately, there’s not much to report. Billy brought Sheila in early this morning. I went over her story, checking for details. I tracked down Bob, who used to manage the craft shop. He’s now retired in Arizona. He remembers both women. Remembered Helen Stravos better, since she worked part-time at the craft shop for almost two years. Said she was beautiful and talented and had one hot temper. She disappeared the same time Pattie Harper’s husband was found dead and Pattie took off.”
“And there’s nothing about her anywhere?” I asked.
“Zip.”
“Maybe she changed her name,” I said.
John laughed. “To Hattie Fein?”
“It’s possible,” I said defensively. He had no business mocking me. “Hattie’s a tall woman. A bit heavier, twenty years later. Remember, she was wearing a barrette very similar to the macramé work that Helen Stravos taught Sheila to do.” I thought a minute, then added, “I did read her bio online, but she could have made that up.”
“I’ll look into it,” he said.
“What about the license plate number Danny was checking?”
John exhaled loudly. “A dead end. A rented car. Whoever rented it used a disposable cell phone for the transaction and picked it up when the place was closed. The car was found abandoned behind a supermarket.”
Sheila called after lunch. “Carrie, I want to thank you for dinner last night. It was so thoughtful of you to have us over.”
“It was my pleasure. I’m sorry the evening ended so abruptly.”
“Me too. Especially since whoever threw the rock had me in mind.”
“I’m glad it didn’t send you packing on the first ferry back to Long Island.”
“Believe me, I considered it, but John—Lieutenant Mathers—told me that the person’s intent was to frighten me and stop me from talking about Helen.”
“Does John think it was Helen who threw the rock?”
“He thinks there’s a good chance she threw it. He also thinks she had no idea that he was there at your house, since he and Sylvia drove to your cottage in Sylvia’s car.”
Interesting. “What else did John say?” I couldn’t resist asking.
“I happened to be in his office when he received a report on some fibers and hairs found at the murdered actress’s home. The dark hairs were from a woman, it turns out, but there’s no proof that they came from the killer.”
How interesting he shared this with you and not me.
“Carrie?” Sheila’s tone was hesitant.
“Yes?”
“I hope you weren’t, er, put off by what I said last night—about my relationship with Helen.”
“Not at all, Sheila. I’m only sorry she turned out to be such an awful person. You met her when you were vulnerable and at a low point in your life.”
“I keep going over those last few days—when Helen and I were arguing constantly and I thought things couldn’t get worse. But they did, didn’t they? Helen murdered Chet, and I ran, terrified of being charged as a coconspirator. At the time I thought Mitch Flynn was simply questioning Billy as he had me and Daph. I had no idea he’d make it look like Billy had stabbed his father. My poor son! And now Daphne’s gone. I should have prevented all that from happening.”
She began to sob.
“Sheila, you were very brave to come back here and tell John what you know about this woman. I feel certain that he’ll track her down before she does any more harm to anyone.”
“If only—”
I cut her off before she could heap more blame on herself. “Sheila, it doesn’t help to dwell on what’s already happened. You need to be strong for your husband’s sake and your own. And now you have Billy back in your life.”
“I have you to thank for that,” Sheila said, sounding stronger. “I can’t believe he doesn’t hate me for abandoning him.”
“He loves you and he needs you,” I said.
“I know, and I thank God for that every day.”
“I have to get back to work,” I said. “Dylan and I will see you at the play reading Saturday night?”
“Certainly,” Sheila said. “Billy has a few outings planned before then. I’m heading home on Sunday.” She gave a little laugh. “My husband’s missing me, and I just got some good news. Recently I’ve started working on a few craft projects again. My husband encouraged me to bring samples to two local galleries. This morning one of the galleries called to say they’re interested in carrying my work. Can you believe it? Starting over again at my age.”
“I can believe it, since I’ve seen your handiwork.” I was pleased that, despite the tragedies she’d experienced, Sheila was finding fulfillment in her life.
The next few days passed without any incident. My mother called, upset after hearing about the rock-throwing incident. I let her believe it was a random act of vandalism and didn’t mention that I’d had dinner guests that evening.
“Dirk’s been riding the cast like a taskmaster,” she said. “Working them from early morning to late in the evening to finish shooting on schedule.”
“How’s Tom taking it?”
“He hates the pressure, though he’s giving the performance of his life. The upside is, if there are no more snags, the movie will be in the can a week from Saturday,” my mother said. “Earlier than Dirk thought. We’ll fly home that Sunday. I hope we can meet for dinner one night before then.”
“Of course!” I said, more heartily than I felt. “You and Tom will come for dinner one night next week.”
“We’d be delighted,” my mother said.
Charlie called me a few times to make sure everything was in order for Saturday night’s performance. After the third call on Friday, I exploded.
“Charlie, our custodians are conscientious workers. They carry out our instructions in a responsible manner. Everything here will be set up as you requested.”
“I’m glad to hear that!” he boomed. “By the way, Ralph will stop by this afternoon to make sure the sound system is in working order.”
“I’m impressed by your attention to every aspect of the performance,” I said.
“Of course! We don’t want any unpleasant surprises tomorrow night.”
“We sure don’t,” I answered. I’d had enough surprises to last me a lifetime.