Thirty-Two

“Holly!” cried Oma. “What is happening here?”

Dave was paying attention, but I couldn’t help noticing that he stood by Addi, who gazed at him with adoring eyes.

“I think Joanne should explain,” I said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. What are we drinking? Is that the Sugar Maple Inn after-dinner drink that I’ve heard so much about?”

“It is!” Rose poured one and handed it to her.

But I was getting impatient with Joanne’s act. I withdrew the swatch of fabric from my pocket and held it in the air.

“What is that?” asked Dave.

“I believe you’ll find that this is a perfect match for Joanne’s torn running pants,” I explained. “Would you care to fetch them for us?”

Dave walked over to me, pulled out an evidence bag, and placed the fabric inside it. “How did you come to have this?”

“It was caught on the chain-link fence Joanne climbed over to get away from Trixie and me.”

Joanne sipped her drink. “This is delicious.”

“Joanne, I would like to have a word with you privately,” said Dave. “I presume I can use the inn office?”

“Of course,” said Oma.

Brenda frowned at us. “I don’t understand. What has she done? Is this about Seth?”

Joanne stiffened. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I haven’t done anything wrong.” She took a seat but didn’t look comfortable. “Honestly, I didn’t expect this to become such a big deal. In the beginning, I’ll admit that I wanted to harm the judge.”

Rose and Addi gasped.

“I never meant to kill anyone, but I was angry. Thoughts of hurting him ran through my head, but that’s not a crime. You can’t imagine how long this has been building in me. I was four when my mother was killed by Brenda’s brother.”

Suddenly, Brenda appeared more uncomfortable than Joanne.

“All I had left was my dad and vague memories of women I called Mommy and Grandmum. I didn’t know any real names.”

Addi’s eyes grew large. She was fixated on Joanne.

“I remembered a big man everyone called Pops and a huge house with lots of dogs and the scent of cinnamon. My most vivid recollection was the sound of church bells ringing. But that could have been anywhere. Sometimes I wondered if I had dreamed the bells.”

“That’s why you asked about them in the churchyard,” I said.

Joanne nodded. “I didn’t understand where those people had gone. I didn’t even know if they were real. If they were, why did they let my father take me? Why didn’t they look for me? Why didn’t they realize that I needed their help? Were they glad to be rid of me? I used to lie in bed at night and wish Grandmum and Pops would come and take me away. I dreamed of a life where unicorns were real, and where I lived in a house that smelled of cinnamon instead of a succession of run-down one-room shacks that reeked of sweat and beer. It wasn’t until I moved my dad into an Alzheimer’s care facility two months ago and cleaned up his mess that I found a document with the name Mary Roberta Barlow on it.”

“Is that your real name?” asked Oriana.

“No. I think she was my mother. Naturally, I began to search for her. The only Barlow I knew of was Theona. Her obituary says she was predeceased by her beloved daughter Mary Roberta Barlow.”

“I’m your cousin!” shrieked Addi.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Why did you listen in on Judge Barlow’s house?”

“Because I was hurt. Because they were my family, but they put more effort into finding Fritz than me. I wanted him to know what it’s like to not have any control. To be alone, all alone. Every holiday, when most people were surrounded by loving families with cozy fires in their fireplaces and turkeys on their tables, I wondered what that would be like. Holidays were miserable for me. If there was a bar in town that was open, my dad would be there, and I would be home alone. There were no toys or new clothes. Forget holidays, Dad never considered that I might need basics like shoes or a coat. Neighbors who pitied me would bring me garments their kids had outgrown. I was the only child who never wanted school to end because it meant days of being alone while my dad drank himself stupid.”

In a small, calm voice, Addi said, “You’re Joy.”

Joanne blinked at her and looked at me in confusion. “Joanne. My name is Joanne.”

Addi shook her head. “That’s why you couldn’t find yourself anywhere. Your name is Joy Marie.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because every holiday, my mother and Grandmum Theona made me set an extra place at the table in case little Joy Marie found her way home. Grandmum Theona spent a small fortune looking for you. She hired private investigators and psychics. I remember everyone howling and teasing her about the psychics.” Addi’s lips pulled taut. “You just missed her.”

Oriana cleared her throat. “Exactly what is it that you’re accusing Joanne—Joy—of doing?”

“She broke into Judge Barlow’s house and set up listening devices,” said Dave. “Based on conversations she overheard, she took actions to upset him.”

“I did not break in,” protested Joanne.

“Then how did you get into the house?” asked Dave.

“I had a key.”

“Where did you obtain the key?”

“I made a copy of the one under the mat by the front door.”

“Under the law, that is breaking and entering.” Dave gave her a stern look.

Rose had listened silently. “You’re the one who bought the oatmeal and opened the window and switched the flower arrangement on Theona’s grave. You even banged on his basement door and made scary sounds. You meant to drive your own grandfather mad.”

“Not to mention the emails you sent,” I added, “pretending to be the judge and telling people he didn’t want to see them anymore, and one to Dovie, firing her.”

“I see,” said Oriana. “Well, I’m the one who sent the emails.”

Everyone stared at her.

Addi chimed in. “I changed the floral arrangement and opened the window. Louisa, I suppose you bought the oatmeal?”

“It’s hardly a crime,” said Louisa. “Everyone should eat their oatmeal.”

Dave groaned aloud. “No, no, no. I see what you’re doing. It’s not that easy to make this go away. You can’t just claim responsibility for what Joanne did.” He looked at Joanne straight on with a grim expression. “Were you responsible for poisoning Rose and Birdie?”

“Absolutely not! I told you I wouldn’t harm anyone. And I wouldn’t know wolfsbane if you handed it to me,” said Joanne.

I could see from his face that Dave was not convinced.

“If any of you were planning on leaving Wagtail tomorrow, your plans have just changed,” said Dave.

Brenda said quietly, “You do know now that it was Seth who was driving the night your mother died. My brother, for all his many, many faults, was not the one who killed your mom. And please know how very sorry my family and I are about that.”

Joanne squinted at her. “Sure. Blame the dead guy.”

“No, it’s true,” Louisa protested. She dug in her purse. “I sent a letter to Judge Barlow. My husband dictated it to me on his deathbed. Where is that thing?” She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and unfolded it. “Judge Barlow has the original.” She handed it to Dave.

“This is dated two months ago,” he said.

Louisa nodded. “I mailed it to Judge Barlow. And when I arrived in Wagtail, I went to see him.”

Dave read it aloud.

Dear Judge Barlow,

Please accept my sympathy on the loss of your wife. I did not have the pleasure of knowing her, but my wife always spoke of her in the highest regard.

I have reached the end of my own road in this life. I want you to know that my single deepest regret is my role in the death of your daughter Bobbie. I was merely a passenger that night, but as I look back, I find it hard to believe that we were so young and careless that we could not foresee the terrible consequences of our actions. I have carried the tragedy of her death every day of my life since it happened and can only hope that I will find forgiveness when I arrive at Saint Peter’s gate.

I’m sure you remember my statement that Wallace McDade was driving the car at the time of the accident. That was a lie. Seth Bertenshaw was at the wheel when your daughter lost her life.

I understand that clearing my conscience by telling you this may leave me feeling better as a person but may bring you deep pain. I hope that is not the case.

With sincerest regret,

Thomas J. Twomey

“How do I know you didn’t make that up?” asked Joanne.

“I didn’t!” cried Louisa. “Wallace is the only one of the three still living. I suppose he can confirm it.”

“He told us,” said Brenda in a dull voice. “I was only six when it happened. He was ten years older than me. I remember him insisting that he was in the passenger seat, but when Tom sided with Seth and claimed my brother was driving, no one believed Wallace. It ruined your life, Joanne, because you lost your mother. I have no doubt things would have been different for you if she had lived. But it ruined our lives, too. Wallace was never the same after that. He got off light, but that accident followed him like an albatross his entire life. I always thought it was because he had killed someone, but now I know he learned far too early that you can’t trust even your best friends or your family. We all failed him and made him what he is today.”

“On that note, I’m going to take statements from each of you about your participation in Joanne’s crime,” said Dave. “I suggest you take into consideration how lying about it could impact your lives as Brenda has just so eloquently explained. Holly, if you could unlock the office for me, please?”

I escorted him to the office and unlocked the door. Dave began to interrogate the WAG Ladies and took their statements one at a time while the rest of us waited in the Dogwood Room.

Rose said to Addi, “Don’t you have an uncle who is still living? What was his name?”

“Tanner. Elliott died as an infant.”

“Where is Tanner these days? What’s he doing?” asked Rose.

“We don’t see much of him. He’s a seismologist in California. He and Pops had a falling out over his gambling problem. It’s very sad. My mom says Pops insisted it was tough love to get him to stop, but I feel like there must have been another way.”

While they chatted, I wondered if Dave was uncovering any new information about Seth’s death. I had considered the judge as a suspect, and now that it was apparent Louisa had sent her husband’s deathbed confession to the judge, I had to wonder if it impacted him enough to avenge his daughter’s death.

I watched Brenda, who fussed over Fagan. Would she have killed Seth for lying about her brother’s involvement in the death of Joanne’s mother? If Holmes was right and she was extraordinarily wealthy, then why did she pinch pennies? I wondered if, in some way, her clothing indicated a desire to live in a time before the accident. Before her brother attacked her father. A time in her life when everything seemed possible, and, as Joanne had said, unicorns might have been real.

Or had Oriana tried to save her own way of life? Her husband seemed like a decent sort. Would the truth about her relationship with Seth have sent her on a downward spiral where she lost everything and everyone that was dear to her, as she claimed? It wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities.

Loki was so happy to be back with Louisa that he didn’t leave her side. He must have been terribly confused while she was in the hospital. She had recovered but still looked delicate, with her fair skin and freckles. Had someone tried to kill her because she had murdered Seth? Had she made a deathbed promise to her husband to knock off Seth? Surely not. But maybe she knew who killed him. What if she had seen something the night of the fire and she knew who was guilty? Had one of his lovers felt the need to take revenge? Oriana or Addi?

It always came back to the fact that Addi took the exact type of pill that had nearly killed Louisa. Was it remotely possible that one of her friends had removed the pills from her room and put them in Louisa’s pill bottle? But why? So far, I hadn’t noticed any reason. Unless . . . Oriana! She might have done it to keep Louisa from spilling the news that she was having an affair with Seth.

I observed her, ever elegant, stroking Garbo. Oriana could have murdered Seth to keep him from exposing their affair to her husband. And she might have switched the pills so Louisa wouldn’t tell her secret, either.

It was midnight before Dave came up to the Dogwood Room and said he was through. “I’d like to be present when you introduce yourself to the judge, Joanne. And it might be wise to ask Dr. Engelknecht to be there as well. It will be a wonderful surprise, I’m sure, but at his age, the shock might be overwhelming.”

The WAG Ladies drifted off to their rooms, and Oma whispered, “Any luck?”

Dave mashed his lips together and shook his head. “Did you see what they did for Joanne? Each of them claiming to have pulled one of the pranks on the judge? They’re doing the same sort of thing about Seth. They’re protecting one of them. I think it’s Brenda. Everyone knows she went back to Rose’s house by herself. She was close enough to him to get meringue on him, and she’s got to be angry with him for what he did to her brother.”

I liked Brenda and her independent ways. I wished she would tip better, of course, but in general, I liked her. “Do you have enough to press charges?” I asked.

“Maybe. I’ll be talking to the prosecutor tomorrow.”

After Dave left, Oma and I cleaned up. I was collecting empty glasses when Joanne returned. I heard her ask Rose, “Did you know my mother?”

Joanne couldn’t have picked a worse person to ask.

But Rose smiled at her. “Bobbie was the fun Barlow. I think that’s why her death hit everyone so hard. She was beautiful and smart. And if Bobbie was there, everyone knew it would be a good time. She, um, she had a crush on my son. But then he met someone else and Bobbie was very frustrated. Unrequited love, you know. She was a cheerleader in high school, and she sang with a band! I have no doubt that she would have been a great mother.”

Tears ran down Joanne’s cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered.