THE SECOND THE door jingled shut behind Winnie, I pulled Lucille into the kitchen. “She broke up with him?! Did you know they were seeing one another?”
Lucille shook her head, the points of her platinum bob framing the satisfaction dancing at her lips. “Found out a couple of hours before you did. Overheard her and Nadine talking. Not that I was eavesdropping, of course.”
“Of course not.” And I wasn’t about to criticize the Queen of Gossip Central for what she did best, especially when I wanted to find out what else she’d heard.
“Hey,” Duke groused as we passed by. “Are we going to do some actual work sometime today?”
I waved him away. “I’m giving her my lunch order.”
“You know you could sit out front and do that like a normal paying customer,” he called after me.
“I could, but I wouldn’t want to shock your system.”
“Shock whose system?” my great-aunt Alice asked, glancing up from the German chocolate cake she was decorating.
“Never mind.” Pulling Duke’s desk chair to Alice’s butcher block worktable in the center of the kitchen, I pointed for Lucille to sit. “Does she know?”
“Know what?” Alice aimed her pastry bag at me as if it were loaded with something deadlier than chocolate buttercream. “What the heck is going on?”
“Lucille and I just heard something very interesting,” I said, planting my butt on the wooden stool next to her.
Her hazel eyes wide behind wire-rimmed trifocals, Alice set her pastry bag to the side. “Something juicy?”
Lucille leaned in. “You saw Winnie and several of the Gray Ladies here for their usual after-class breakfast, right?”
Alice nodded. “Looked like a good turnout.”
“Well, after most of ‘em left around nine, Winnie and Nadine stayed on, guzzling coffee in that corner for hours.”
Alice knit her brows. “It’s not bad enough that Stanley hangs out here all day to drink his fill of decaf? Now the Gray Ladies are gonna start sucking us dry?”
Sheesh. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard the fiery former redhead mimic her skinflint husband of over fifty years. But since we all knew that I was the primary offender when it came to treating their diner like an all-I-could-drink coffee bar, I wanted to move this debrief along.
“Trust me, they weren’t here for a caffeine fix.” I motioned to Lucille. “Fast forward to the part about Ted.”
Alice blinked. “Ted Skerrett?”
“It seems that Winnie and Ted were an item,” Lucille whispered conspiratorially.
Alice’s jaw dropped. “Ruth only died two weeks ago!”
“I know.” Contempt tugged at the corners of Lucille’s coral-painted lips. “He didn’t waste any time.”
“So neither one of you had known anything about them getting together?” I asked.
They shook their heads.
Since it was next to impossible for any he-ing and she-ing to go on amongst the local seniors without it becoming gossip circuit breaking news, I found this very curious.
“What else did Winnie have to say?” I asked Lucille.
She shrugged. “Not much at first. In fact, she got super-quiet when the girls started gabbing about how hard Carmen was taking Ted’s death.”
“Carmen!” Alice slapped the table, sending up a puff of flour dust. “Was that old fool trying to nab herself another husband?”
Lucille rolled her eyes. “He was newly single and breathing. What do you think?”
Well, he wasn’t breathing now. I couldn’t imagine Carmen had anything to do with that outcome, but since she might have seen Ted last Friday, I made a mental note to speak with her. Winnie, too.
“Back to Winnie,” I said to Lucille. “Did she tell you how long she and Ted had been an item?”
“Not in so many words, and not until it was just her and Nadine at the table, and they ran out of napkins.”
Alice scowled. “How could they run out? I filled all the holders before yesterday’s pie happy hour.”
“Two hours of Winnie cryin’ over Ted,” Lucille retorted. “That’s how. Anyway, when Nadine called me over for more napkins, I realized that I’d better help console poor Winnie before all her carrying on upset the other customers.”
“Sure.” We all knew this was more about first-hand dirt than consolation, but I wasn’t about to call Lucille’s bluff.
“And when I say ‘carrying on,’ let me tell you Winnie was in love with that man.”
Alice slapped the table again. “Really!”
Lucille nodded. “Seemed like he’d really swept her off her feet over the last couple of weeks.”
“You don’t think they were …” Alice pumped her fist in an unmistakably sexual way.
Something else I figured she’d picked up from her sailor husband. “Aunt Alice!”
“What? We’re all adults here.” She pierced Lucille with the intensity of her gaze. “Well? Were they or weren’t they?”
Lucille shook her head. “I don’t think so, but it was pretty dang clear that they’d been talking about getting married.”
“Holy smokes,” Alice said. “And no one else knew about this until this morning?”
“No, Nadine surely knew.”
“Why do you say it that way?” I asked Lucille.
Her thin lips drew into a sad smile. “The best friend always knows. Besides, I could tell by the way Nadine was talking. She wasn’t hearing about this thing with Ted for the first time.”
“How about Winnie breaking it off with him? Did she know about that?” Because Nadine made herself scarce before the subject arose in my presence.
“Trust me.” Lucille pointed an index finger at me. “That was news to just you and me.”
“An almost engagement, a breakup, and then Ted’s found the next day.” Alice stared blankly at the industrial oven warming my backside. “I swear. I might need a score card to keep up with everything that’s been going on since Ruthie’s funeral.”
“I know,” Lucille said. “That’s why I didn’t want to leave the table once Winnie started to spill. I didn’t wanna miss anything.”
But I still felt like I was missing something. “I appreciate that Winnie must feel like she’s been on an emotional roller coaster, but what do you think she meant about having to break up with Ted?”
Lucille shrugged. “She sorta tiptoed around it, but you could tell she was feeling guilty about rushing into something with the husband of one of her best friends.”
Alice nodded. “Of course she did. It was too soon. Anyone, including Carmen, would know that. Although I’m sure he was his usual charming self with those girls. He certainly acted that way at the funeral.”
Yes, he had. At the time I had assumed that Ted was skilled at compartmentalizing his emotions. Now it seemed as if he had embarked upon a recruiting mission for the next Mrs. Skerrett.
* * *
“So you don’t think that it’s strange that Winnie Dearborn and Ted Skerrett were talking about getting married?” I asked Steve while he watched me chop lettuce for the taco salad I was making for our dinner.
He blew out a breath. “You obviously do.”
“Well, yeah. His wife had only been dead two weeks.”
“You’re right. He should’ve waited at least three weeks.”
I stopped chopping. “This isn’t funny.”
“Didn’t say it was. It’s just that he wouldn’t have been the first person around here to rush into marriage.”
I knew Steve was referring to my impulsive mother announcing her engagement to our former biology teacher before the ink on her latest divorce papers was dry.
Not a subject I wanted to revisit tonight—not when Winnie’s revelation about her relationship with Ted Skerrett had my brain cells on overload.
“It still seems strange, though,” I said. “Winnie calls everything off, he goes home and gets into a beef over Ruth’s estate, and then falls to his death a couple hours later.”
Steve didn’t respond so I locked gazes with him. “Seriously. You don’t find this even a little bit suspicious?”
He lifted the bottle of mineral water he’d found in my refrigerator in mock salute. “Not something I see every day, I’ll give you that.”
“I rest my case.”
“Chow Mein, I’d like to trust that you mean that.”
Despite softening his remark by using the nickname he’d bestowed on me back in the third grade, the hard set to Steve’s jaw told me that I’d just been warned.
“Then maybe you should,” I said, turning my attention to the pan of beef and onions simmering on the stove.
“I would if you’d stop trying to play detective.”
“I resent that. I’ve simply been doing my job.”
“Yeah, that’s what you said last night.”
“And it’s still true.”
Steve leaned against the counter. “And that report you were talking about. Did you give it to Shondra?”
I focused on a translucent bit of onion I was pushing around with a wooden spoon to avoid making eye contact. “Yep.”
“What’d she say about it?”
“That we were done with our inquiry.”
“Then that’s that, right?”
“The death certificate has been signed, so yes.”
He drained the bottle and set it down with more force than necessary. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
Fozzie growled from where he was laying in front of the refrigerator.
“Is this interrogation over? Because it’s upsetting my dog.” And I didn’t much care for it either.
Steve slanted a scowl down at Fozzie. “I’m sure Cujo will get over it. As for his mom, I hope she’ll accept the fact that there is nothing to be gained by spinning her wheels on a case that’s been closed.”
I knew there was wisdom in his words, but the road to acceptance felt like it was going to be a long and bumpy one. “I understand what you’re saying, but—”
“The reality of a situation can be a hard thing to accept.” A ghost of a smile faded from Steve’s lips as he fingered a lock of hair that had escaped from my ponytail. “I know because I’ve been there more times than I’d like to count. It’s just the way it is. We don’t get to have all the answers.”
I pressed myself into his arms. “I hate it when you sound like the voice of reason.”
“You just don’t like to admit that I’m right.”
That, too.
“So the wheel spinning is going to stop, right?” Steve asked, giving me his cop squint as he held me at arm’s length.
“Of course.” Depending upon what information Winnie could provide me.
* * *
I was raised by a grandfather who used to preach that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.
That was right before he dug up two of Gram’s flower beds to expand the back deck. It was his first major home improvement project after he retired. Because she didn’t speak to him for two days, it also was the last project he launched without her blessing.
While I didn’t require anyone’s permission to have a chat with Winnie Dearborn, as a representative of the county I knew it was in my best interest to avoid all situations in which I had to ask for forgiveness. Especially after Shondra had made it abundantly clear that she was done looking into the matter of Ted Skerrett’s death.
So on Wednesday morning, when I stepped through the third-floor office door and caught a glimpse of Shondra laughing about something with her assistant, I figured that I’d better take advantage of her good mood.
Fortunately, someone had started a pot of coffee prior to my arrival—always something that this caffeine addict appreciated. But it was especially timely this morning because it allowed me to stow my tote at my desk, grab my cup, and then head back to the breakroom to fill it and one of the clean spare mugs for Shondra.
“Knock, knock,” I said after peeking into her office to make sure she wasn’t on the phone.
Her piercing dark eyes zeroed in on the steaming mugs in my hands. “Is one of those for me?”
I took that as an invitation to come in and placed her coffee on a square of unoccupied wood grain between two stacks of files. “Thought you might like some fresh.”
She reached for the mug. “Why do I have the feeling that you want to tell me something I don’t want to hear?”
There was no point in beating around the bush, so I dropped into the chair across from her desk and met her wary gaze. “I learned something yesterday that I thought I should bring to your attention.”
“This had better not be about Ted Skerrett.”
“Well …”
“Are you hard of hearing? Because I specifically told you to leave that alone.”
“I know, but I happened to meet up with someone who was in a romantic relationship with Mr. Skerrett.”
Shondra frowned at me as she took a sip of coffee. “Unless this someone saw the guy take a header into that ravine, this conversation is gonna come to a rapid conclusion, ‘cause I’ve got closing arguments today.”
There was no way that I could portray Winnie as an eyewitness. Not unless she had more to tell about what happened on Friday. “I know she saw him on the day he died, and …” I didn’t want to say that she broke up with him. It could sound too juvenile. Worse, too easy to dismiss. “They had some sort of emotionally charged exchange.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“I’d like to talk to her and find out.”
“I don’t doubt that for a minute.”
“If nothing else, I figure she could help us with Mr. Skerrett’s state of mind out on that trail.”
Shondra set down her cup and shooed me away. “Go. Let me know if she has anything interesting to say.”
I pushed out of my chair. “Will do.”
“After that, we’re done.” She locked onto my gaze. “And when I say ‘we’ I mean everyone in this room. You got it?”
“Got it.”
“Oh, and Charmaine,” Shondra called out as I headed for the door. “Next time you want to sweeten the pot to get on my good side, I take two sugars.”