Chapter 36
Beatrice poured the pancake batter onto the griddle. She made pancakes every Sunday morning, but today she added gingerbread spice to the batter and the scent was filling the kitchen as Jon walked in.
“What are you making? It smells divine,” he said, coming up behind her and kissing her on the cheek.
“Gingerbread pancakes,” she said.
“And Christmas music is playing.... Have you gotten into the Christmas spirit, dear?”
Beatrice harrumphed. “Lord knows I’m trying.”
“Still worried about the cruisers?”
She nodded, flipped her pancakes, then told him about what Bryant had mentioned to her last night.
Jon grabbed a plate and set it next to Bea for the pancakes.
“Bryant thinks it’s related to the cruise?” Jon asked.
“I think he’s just grasping for anything. It was a creepy postcard.”
“I think you all made the right decision to not tell Sheila. She has enough on her mind right now. More coffee?”
Bea nodded. “I’d like that.”
Jon made another pot of coffee and Beatrice scooped her pancakes from the griddle onto the plate.
“It’s really strange—we can’t think of who might have done something like that to Sheila,” she said. “Maybe she gets on people’s nerves about the scrapbooking. God knows it drives me crazy.”
“Why? It’s something that she loves, so why does it bother you so much?”
Beatrice thought it over a few minutes, fussing over her pancakes. “I don’t mind scrapbooking. You know, keeping your family’s memories in a book. I’ve made several of my own. Not with any of that newfangled stuff. It seems to me that folks go overboard with it. And Sheila has built her life around it. I get tired of hearing about it, I suppose.”
“Hmmm,” Jon said. “Maybe Sheila doesn’t like to hear about quantum physics.”
Beatrice laughed. “No, I’m sure she doesn’t. But who does? I’m used to nobody being interested in my thing.”
“I’m interested.” He grinned.
“Yes, I know—” She was interrupted by the phone ringing.
Jon answered the phone and handed it to Beatrice. “It’s Annie,” he said.
“Sorry to bother you so early. I know you’re probably in the middle of your pancake breakfast,” Annie said.
“I’m just now making it. What’s up?”
“I Skyped with Vera and Paige this morning and Vera was really concerned about this possible connection with Sharon Milhouse.”
“Now, why does that name sound so familiar?”
“Maybe because she was convicted of trying to kill Steve Rogers.”
Bea’s heart jumped. “Oh my,” she said, her mind flicking through the memories. “I do remember that.”
“Anyway, they called to ask if I can find out anything about her. I was able to pull up old newspaper reports and criminal records, but she was sent to the Richmond Institution, which isn’t even open anymore. And since she was determined to be mentally ill, I can’t access those records.”
“Neither can I. What can I do to help?”
“Can you call Bryant and explain the situation?”
“Oh, I nearly forgot; I need to call him about something else. So yes, I can call him. But why don’t you?”
“I’d rather not. It’s Hanukkah and I don’t want to spoil my day. You know how I feel about that man. And it’s not exactly a professional inquiry.”
Beatrice suspected that she’d never really know what had gone down between those two. At first it seemed like they despised one another. Then he became a friend of Annie’s husband and it seemed they reached some kind of friendly understanding about their relationship. Then it went sour again about the same time as Emily McGlashen’s murder. Beatrice didn’t like to pry. But it was the oddest thing.
“Well, none of us really like the man,” Beatrice said after a moment. To say that he was abrasive would be putting it mildly. But Beatrice had seen traces of a real human being beneath his tough-guy exterior from time to time, like when Vera was having problems sleepwalking. “But he’s a good cop. I think he might appreciate this information and might want to help out.”
“I hope you’re right. You know it may be nothing. But Vera is very concerned,” Annie said.
“She should be,” Beatrice said. “Sharon Milhouse was a total freak. If she’s on that ship, knowing that Sheila is, too, there could be problems.”
“Surely not,” Annie said. “That was years ago. Besides, she’s probably still in a hospital somewhere.”
“I’d not count on that,” Beatrice said. “If she is the woman who was Harold’s ex-wife, I’m sure she’d have killed both Allie and him and not batted an eyelash. She was that sick.”
“Maybe she’s gotten better.”
“One would hope. But so many times I’ve seen that there are some people who are beyond help. I wish that wasn’t the case.”
Jon had taken over the pancake making and now had a stack of golden brown pancakes on the table. Beatrice’s stomach growled.
“I’ll call Bryant later,” Bea said. “I need to eat my breakfast.”
“Later,” Annie said.
Bea sat down at the table and recounted what Annie had told her on the phone.
“Sounds like a good lead,” Jon said, cutting his pancakes up.
“Maybe,” Bea said. “But if that’s our Sharon Milhouse and she’s on a ship with Sheila? Our friend is in very real danger.”