“You make pretty good french toast,” Heather said before taking a second bite of her breakfast. She sat with Brian at her kitchen table on Sunday morning.
“It tastes a lot better with your sourdough bread than when I make it at home.”
Heather wrinkled her nose. “That’s because you use that boring white sandwich bread. I don’t know how you can eat that stuff.”
Brian shrugged and poured more syrup on his french toast. “So who’s all going to be there tonight?”
“Besides us, it’s going to be Lily, Ian, Walt, Danielle, Mel, Adam, the chief, and Joe and Kelly. I could kinda do without Kelly, but whatever.”
“What about Sunday dinner at Ian’s parents?” Brian asked.
“They already did their weekly dinner on Friday. His parents have other plans tonight. In fact, when Lily first asked me, I almost said no, because I figured they’d be coming too. I can deal with Kelly, but I really don’t want to spend an evening with June and John. John’s not so bad, but that woman drives me nuts. Actually, when I’m around her, I start feeling sorry for Kelly.”
Brian chuckled. “Why’s that?”
“She’s so annoyingly controlling. Ian’s way of dealing with his mom is with humor, and then he does what he wants, but Kelly pretty much just takes it.”
“I’ve noticed that too. You didn’t mention Chris. Isn’t he coming?”
Heather smiled. “No. He’s going to a concert tonight in Portland.”
“Who’s he going with?”
Heather shrugged. “One of the women he’s been dating. I really can’t keep up with his social life. I keep asking him when he’s going to bring one here to meet us.”
“He must not have met a woman he cares about enough to meet his friends.”
“I suppose.” Heather picked up a napkin and wiped syrup off her lips.
“Is the chief bringing his boys?” Brian asked.
“No, they’re staying with his sister. In fact, Connor’s going over there too. Evan thinks he’s babysitting him.” Heather chuckled. “But it’s more a playdate with Aunt Sissy’s supervision.”
When Brian and Heather finished their breakfast, they both got up to clear the table. Brian started doing the dishes, and Heather announced she was taking out the trash.
“You want me to do that?” Brian asked from the sink.
Heather flashed Brian a smile and said, “No. I find something incredibly sexy about a man doing dishes. I’ll take the trash out.”
Brian laughed at Heather’s comment and turned his attention back to the dishes while Heather pulled the bag of trash from the trash can, tightened its cord, and headed for the back door.
When Heather first moved to Frederickport, the disposal company picked up the garbage each week on Beach Drive. But after upgrading the trash receptacles, the pickup along her side of Beach Drive was now off the alley. Heather preferred the change. She had hated dragging her cans from the back of her house to the street each week.
Along the back property line separating her yard from Olivia’s stood a hedge of arborvitae, each reaching about seven feet tall. At one time, it served as a privacy wall, yet several trees had been removed after turning brown, leaving a gap. Heather kept her trash adjacent to the gap, while Pearl’s trash bins had been pushed against the other side of the arborvitae hedge. Since moving in, Olivia had not moved the bins.
Heather didn’t give her neighbor’s trash bins any thought as she approached her own, believing she was alone outside. But just as Heather reached her bin and was about to open its lid, she looked through the gap in the arborvitae and saw Olivia standing on the other side of the hedge, looking down at her own trash bin, with something in her hands.
It looked as if Olivia was about to drop something in the trash can, but then she moved one hand upward, unfurling what looked like a bloody rag. Heather let out a gasp and dropped her trash bag to the ground. Olivia turned abruptly in Heather’s direction. In her right hand she held a bloodstained knifelike tool, and in the other a bloody rag. The two women stood just a few feet apart.
Heather’s eyes widened at the bloody objects in her neighbor’s hands. She took a step back, away from Olivia, never taking her eyes off her.
“These were in the trash,” Olivia blurted.
“What is that?” Heather demanded.
“I don’t know. I was bringing my trash out, opened the bin, and saw this on top of some stuff I’d put in there earlier. I reached in, pulled it out. It looks like blood,” Olivia stammered.
Heather wasn’t sure if Olivia was waving the knife around to show her the blood, or to threaten her. “Uh, yeah, it does. Please stop waving that knife.”
“It’s not a knife.” Olivia shoved the object toward Heather as if to show it off or take a jab at her.
Heather quickly stepped back away from her neighbor. “I said stop waving that thing at me!”
Olivia immediately dropped her hand with the knife to her side.
Heather was about to call for Brian when she heard his voice ask, “What’s going on out here?”
Olivia stared at Brian as he approached them. When he got to Heather’s side, she said, “You’re that police officer.”
“Yeah, he’s also my boyfriend,” Heather snapped, moving closer to Brian. “I think she has the knife that killed Betty. It’s covered in blood, and so’s that rag.”
Olivia looked down at the objects in her hand.
Taking hold of Heather’s wrist, Brian drew her behind him without taking his eyes off Olivia. “I want you to set those on the ground, please, and take a step back.”
Still holding the bloody objects in her hand, Olivia looked up at Brian and frowned.
“Now!” he barked.
Olivia jumped at the harsh command and immediately complied. After dropping the objects, she stepped back nervously, away from the bloody items and away from Brian and Heather.
“Can you explain where you got those?” Brian asked.
“I was bringing my trash out.” She then pointed to something on the ground. Brian hadn’t noticed it before, but when he stepped closer to the opening in the hedge, he spied a full trash bag, its top tied together, sitting on the ground, leaning against the bin. “I was just getting ready to put my trash in the bin when I noticed a rag sitting on top of the stuff I’d put in the bin earlier. I wondered what it was, so I pulled it out. It looks like blood, but maybe it’s red paint, I don’t know. It’s not mine. I don’t know who put it there. But if you think they’re from the murder down the street, please take them.”
Brian glanced around and then asked Heather to run into the house and grab some small plastic storage bags. Heather returned a moment later and handed Brian several gallon-sized plastic bags. The two women watched as Brian leaned down and carefully picked up the items Olivia had dropped, slipping each one into a separate baggie after using one as a glove to prevent him from touching the items.
“You think that’s the knife that killed Betty?” Heather asked.
“It’s not a knife,” Olivia argued.
Brian stood while examining the contents in the baggies. “She’s right. It isn’t a knife. It looks like a letter opener.”
Heather leaned closer to the baggy and took another look. “The tip is sharp like a knife, and that sure looks like blood.”
Olivia began to cry. Startled by the sudden burst of tears, Heather and Brian looked up to Olivia, who now stood in her driveway, wailing.
Before they asked her why she was crying, a voice on the other side of Olivia’s driveway called out, “What’s going on over here?” It was Walt.
Olivia didn’t answer; instead her crying intensified. Concerned, Walt walked to her and was surprised when Heather and Brian stepped through the opening in the hedge.
Walt walked toward the three. “What’s wrong?” He looked at Brian and Heather for answers.
“I think she might have found the murder weapon,” Heather said. “Either that, or she was about to get rid of it.”
Olivia swiped the cuff of her sweater’s right sleeve over her tear-stained face and glared at Heather. “I don’t care what you think you saw the other day. But I did not kill Betty Kelty. I never met the woman!”
“But I saw you with her,” Heather hissed. “And it looks like I caught you with the murder weapon!”
Olivia had agreed to go with Walt and wait with him at Marlow House while the responders Brian called processed the scene. If the letter opener proved to be the murder weapon, Brian didn’t want any evidence destroyed, such as possible fingerprints on the trash bin.
While Danielle would rather not serve breakfast muffins and hot tea to a potential killer, at least she felt relatively safe. She wasn’t alone in the kitchen with Olivia, both Marie and Walt were there, and should her new neighbor decide to grab a nearby knife and do to her or Walt what she might have done to Betty, either Marie or Walt could stop her.
“I should never have moved here,” Olivia said, once again breaking into tears. The muffin sitting on the plate Danielle had served her remained untouched.
“Why did you choose Frederickport?” Danielle asked.
Olivia looked up and dabbed the tears from her face with a napkin. She smiled weakly at Danielle. “My family used to live here. I was really little at the time. I don’t remember actually living here. But I do remember visiting each summer. My mom and my sister and I would come and stay with one of Mom’s good friends. About five months ago, I sold my house in California and was staying with my sister, trying to decide where to move. On a lark, I looked at job openings in Frederickport and saw there was an opening in a library. I thought it was fate. Boy, was I wrong.”
“Who was your mother’s friend?” Danielle asked, already knowing the answer.
Olivia smiled softly and said, “Esther Meek. But she doesn’t live here anymore.”
“Yes, she moved to Florida,” Danielle said. “She was Betty Kelty’s aunt. Betty was living in her house.”
Olivia stared at Danielle, and the next moment, she fell to the side and tumbled from the kitchen chair. She would have hit her head when falling, but Walt caught her in time, using his energy to ease her to the floor.
Danielle rushed to Olivia’s side, leaning down to her body. She felt for a pulse and then looked up at Walt. “I think she fainted.”