A Crafty Christmas

Annie was putting the finishing touches on her manuscript. At least she hoped she was finished. She liked to let it sit a few days and then go back over it, fact checking and looking for grammar mistakes and spelling errors. Then she’d fix it up, let it sit a few more days, and go back over it yet again.

She drained her second cup of coffee. Should she have another? Hmmm. Probably not.

Her computer buzzed. Good thing she was at the kitchen table and not in her bedroom.

“Good morning, Annie.” First a voice and then two faces appeared on the Skype screen: Vera and Paige, who looked awful.

“Good morning. You two are up early.”

“Early breakfast today and off to explore Grand Caymen. Thank God we are going to be on land for a few days,” Vera said. “Paige is sick.”

Paige nodded and whimpered.

“Sea sick?” Annie asked.

“She’d been drinking and got sick and hasn’t gotten any better. The waters have been a little rough.”

“Sorry, Paige. You do look awful,” Annie said.

“Thanks,” Paige mumbled.

“What’s up?” Annie asked.

“Listen, I read the text you sent to Sheila about Sharon Milhouse,” Vera said.

Eric passed by in the background, then backed up and waved. He looked a bit tan and very relaxed. The trip was doing someone good. Annie waved back.

“And?” Annie said.

“And I’d like you to see what you can find out about her. I mean, even get Bryant involved if you have to,” Vera said.

“She used to be nuts. I’m sure she still is. If that’s the same woman, we need to know it.” Vera took a breath and then filled Annie in on the background.

“Don’t you think she’d be over Steve and Sheila by now? I mean, it’s been twenty years,” Annie said incredulously.

“I wish,” Vera said. “There were some things that happened that Sheila never knew. Things we didn’t tell her.”

“Bill, Steve, and I,” Vera said. “We thought it was best to keep some things from her.”

“Why would you do that? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want to go into this over the computer, but suffice it to say the woman was committed because of her actions. I’m not exaggerating her illness.” Vera took another deep breath. “I think it would be best if we knew if she was on this ship.”

Paige harrumphed, then said, “You know Sheila; things like this would wear on her. She’s scared enough as it is. I mean, she’s really not acting like herself. We’re worried about her.”

Annie thought a moment. “I promise to try to track down this woman. I’ll text you to let you know what I find out. But if I find out anything, you’re going to have to tell Sheila. She’s a grown-up and she can handle it.”

But she, Bea, and DeeAnn had decided not to tell her about the note left on the door of her home. “Wait,” Annie said. “Maybe you’re right. With her concussion and everything else that’s going on, let’s leave her out of it until she gets safely home.”

“She’s getting very paranoid,” Vera said. “I don’t think she’s eaten more than a bite of toast since yesterday.”

“Well, we all are,” Paige said. “I spoke with a couple of the men on our list yesterday—Colton and Hank. I think we can cross them off the list.”

“Same with the guy I talked with. He’s a hard-core scrapbooker,” Vera said.

“That leaves what—six other men?” Annie said.

“I’ll get back to it when I feel better,” Paige said.

“We’ll keep our eyes open,” Vera said.

Eric poked his head onto the screen. “We need to go ladies. Bye, Annie,” he said.

“Bye,” Annie said. The screen faded out.

Annie saved her file and decided to search around on the Internet for more information about Sharon Milhouse. Over one thousand of them lived in the US. How to hone that down? What was the name of Sheila’s school again? Sweet Wood University.

Annie keyed in “Sharon Milhouse” and “Sweet Wood University.”

An article popped up from a Richmond newspaper’s online archives:

Sharon Milhouse, a recent graduate of Sweet Wood University, has been convicted of attempted murder of another recent grad, Steven Rogers.

Holy Shit! Did Sheila know about this? Or was this what Vera was talking about?

Annie’s heart raced and she read further on. Sharon had been housed in the Richmond Institution and would probably remain there for life.

Life? Maybe this Sharon Milhouse wasn’t the one on the ship. It couldn’t be the same one; the Sharon Milhouse who was married to Harold had certainly been a free woman. Unless . . . unless Sharon had gotten out early and married.

Damn, she couldn’t get into those records. If they had to do with medical issues at all, Annie was out of luck. But maybe Bryant had access to them.

She hadn’t seen him or talked to him in a while. He’d been seeing a young police officer from a neighboring town and was too busy to hang out with Mike—thank goodness—and there were no other recent murders in their little town. She hated to call the man. In fact, the thought of it turned her stomach.

She’d call Beatrice later. Perhaps Beatrice could call him and explain the situation. Perhaps. Bea didn’t like him any more than Annie did. But at least she hadn’t had the somewhat personal experience with him that Annie had. Experience she was quite ashamed of and wished she could erase from of her life.