I awoke Sunday morning to discover that Dylan and my father had gone out earlier to buy fresh bagels and all the trimmings. Breakfast turned out to be an all hands on deck kind of meal, with each of us doing our bit: I set the table, Merry made a large pot of coffee, Dylan made a pepper and onion frittata, and Jim had us laughing nonstop with stories I’d never heard before. I didn’t say much, nor did I feel I had to. I was totally happy in a quiet sort of way. I was with family. My family, where I belonged.
When we had a minute to ourselves after breakfast, I asked Jim if he’d like to share his good news with Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco.
“Sure, honey. I’d like Merry to meet them. They’re good people and I appreciate all they’ve done for you.”
Surprised, since my father was never big on spending time with relatives, I called my aunt and uncle to invite them over for Sunday dinner.
“So Jim’s in town with his fiancée,” Aunt Harriet said. “Of course we’re happy to come for dinner. I’ll bring an apple pie. I happen to have one in the freezer.”
“Shall we say six thirty?”
“See you then!” Aunt Harriet trilled.
An hour later, my father, Merry, Dylan and I climbed into Dylan’s car and drove up Route 7. We stopped in Kent, where we wandered in and out of stores and galleries. In one gallery, Dylan and my father started to talk about a painting that reminded them of a piece of stolen artwork Dylan had found and returned to its owner. That led to more shop talk. Merry and I grinned at each other and moved on to a women’s clothing store, leaving them outside gabbing away.
I enjoyed Merry’s company. She didn’t have the need to babble to make her presence known. She spoke when she had something to say. And she was a good listener.
Not like my mother suddenly came to mind. Immediately followed by a pang of guilt that I was being disloyal. I had no business comparing Merry to my mother, who was self-absorbed and manipulative but loved me in her own way. Merry and my mother were as different as any two women could be.
Or was I feeling disloyal because I was completely at ease with Merry—not obliged to watch what I said for fear of upsetting her or risk being criticized? I shook my head to chase away my disquieting thoughts. As much as I was all for it, acquiring a stepmother was going to take some getting used to.
The four of us shared a pizza for lunch, then headed for home. We made a planned stop at a juried craft fair that I was looking forward to. I was glad to have Merry at my side when I couldn’t decide between two candle holders. She bought a few for her daughter and a silver bracelet for her little granddaughter.
“I bet you can’t wait to see her,” I said.
Her face lit up. “I love chatting with Francie on FaceTime, but spending real time with her is something else entirely.”
We arrived back at the cottage a little past four. My father said he needed a short nap and Merry said she could use one, too. I giggled as they disappeared into the guest room.
Dylan slipped an arm around me. “The happy couple. Who would have thought those two would get together?”
“My dad is remarrying,” I said in awe.
Dylan kissed me. “I think I could use a little nap myself.”
I grinned. “Now that you mention it …”
Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco arrived bearing champagne along with a small chocolate fudge cake as well as the promised apple pie. Jim introduced Merry, and she was embraced and brought into the fold.
“Welcome to the family,” Aunt Harriet said.
Dylan opened the champagne and filled the flutes. We drank to Jim and Merry and I brought out a few appetizers for us to nibble on. I hadn’t realized I’d been a bit anxious about my father and Uncle Bosco getting together until I saw them talking in quiet tones in the den. There were times during the seven months I’d lived with my aunt and uncle before moving to the cottage that Uncle Bosco had shaken his head, bemoaning his nephew’s wasting away his life when he should have been putting his good brain to positive use.
The evening ended too soon, and before I knew it, Monday morning had arrived and my father and Merry were wheeling their suitcases into the hall. They planned to leave for the airport in an hour for their flight to Colorado. I was going to miss them. I’d gotten used to having them around. Even Smoky Joe was agitated and showed it by weaving between everyone’s legs.
Dylan had said his goodbyes earlier before leaving for work. From the doorway, I watched my father stow the suitcases in their rented car. When he came back inside, I dissolved in tears.
“I hate to see you go,” I blubbered as I hugged him and Merry.
Merry patted my back. “You’ll come visit us soon—you and Dylan.”
I nodded as I sniffed. “We’ll try to make it to the wedding.”
It was time I left for the library. I put Smoky Joe in his carrier and moved to open the door.
“I’ll walk you out,” Jim offered.
We walked slowly to my car. “I’m so happy for you, Dad. I really like Merry.”
My father exhaled. “You have no idea how glad I am—on both accounts. This marriage thing came up suddenly, and I wasn’t sure how it was going to sit with you.”
“Well, it sits with me just fine. You’ve become an upstanding member of society.”
“I had you as my model,” he said softly.
We hugged as best we could with the carrier in my arms.
“Talk to you soon,” Jim said as I slid into the driver’s seat.
“Don’t forget to set the alarm before you leave.”
My father, the former thief, laughed. “Will do.”
The week passed quietly and uneventfully. My library friends were thrilled to learn that Jim had met someone he loved and soon they would be married. When I told Angela the news Monday morning in the parking lot, she gave me a knowing smile. “I hope this gives you a push in the right direction.”
“Angela!” I said warningly.
“Just sayin’ as your BBF,” she declared and dashed ahead of me.
As soon as I entered my office, Evelyn appeared and echoed Angela’s sentiment in her own Evelyn-like way. “Carrie, dear, your father’s wonderful news can’t but get you thinking about your own situation.”
“I love Dylan,” I said. Why did it come out sounding defensive?
“I know you do,” Evelyn said soothingly. “Which is why it’s only natural to consider your next step.”
“Why do I have to? I like things exactly as they are. I wish you and Angela would stop trying to prod me into doing something I’m not ready for.” I glared at her. “Besides, I haven’t been asked.”
“Well, maybe if you showed—”
I covered my ears and turned away. Evelyn took the hint and disappeared.
The truth of the matter was I was scared. Yes, Angela and Steve were deliriously happy. But they were newlyweds. They hadn’t had to deal with children and money problems, sickness and whatever else came along that required attention and drained people. My father and Meredith were marrying at an older age with no problems to speak of—that I knew of.
But what about a couple like Donna and Aiden? I assumed they’d been madly in love when they married. They had two adorable children, a beautiful home, and a comfortable lifestyle. Aiden had a career, and I supposed Donna had opted to be a stay-at-home mom. In a few years they had grown apart. They both had taken lovers and, if Gwen was to be believed, Aiden was thinking about divorce.
My parents had loved each other once. Was it the responsibility of providing for a family that had driven my father to a life of crime? He’d stayed away even when he wasn’t in prison, and left my mother, a woman who wasn’t maternal in the least, to raise my brother and me. They divorced and now they each had partners they loved.
Another thing was, I didn’t know if I’d be able to cope if Dylan and I were married and I had to deal with something really awful. Sure, I was handling things well now. I’d been trained for my job and I had wonderful colleagues who supported me. Living with Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco had given me the necessary confidence to make friends and form a loving relationship with Dylan. But for so many years before that I’d been adrift. Who was to say that if something I couldn’t handle befell me that I wouldn’t revert to the person I once was—someone who moved to a new town every year or two, never setting down roots or forming close friendships.
Of course there were good marriages. I was surrounded by them: Randy and Julia, Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco, even John and Sylvia Mathers—if I wanted to continue to fixate on the subject, which I most certainly did not!
Monday evening I called my mother to give her the news that my father was remarrying. There was a long pause. “l must say, that’s about the last thing I ever expected Jim Singleton to do.”
“Dad’s changed a lot these past few years.”
My mother made a scoffing sound. “At least he’s given up his thieving ways. What’s his fiancée like?”
“Nice. Pleasant,” I said noncommittally. The last thing I wanted to do was rile up her competitive streak.
“Good luck to her. She’s welcome to him.”
“How’s Tom?” I asked quickly.
“Doing exceedingly well.” My mother rhapsodized about the two epic acting roles for which Tom was being considered. I was very fond of her husband and glad that his acting career had taken off.
With the excitement of my father’s upcoming marriage and an unexpected flood of calls and emails from people wanting to give a program or class in the fall, I hadn’t had much time to think about the two murders, much less do any sleuthing. And to be honest, my last meeting with John had dampened my enthusiasm for investigating. Still, the two victims were members of Angela’s family, and Rosemary had asked me to do what I could to find their murderer.
Angela attended Roxy’s funeral on Tuesday afternoon—a graveside service for family members only. She called me that evening to give me a detailed rundown of who was in attendance.
“Tommy was there, of course. I’ve never seen him so upset. He was really broken up. I had no idea he and Roxy were that close.”
“That is surprising,” I said. Or was he putting on an act? Since my wake-up call regarding Gwen’s character, I’d decided I was too trusting. And someone like Tommy was clearly capable of violence.
“Miles was there. I tried to talk to him and Donna, but they stuck like two bookends to Uncle Dominic, who didn’t stop crying. They finally managed to coax him away from the gravesite.”
“Was anyone from Aiden’s medical office there?” I asked.
“No. Why would any of them show up?”
“Just wondering. They say the murderer often attends his victim’s funeral.”
“We don’t know that anyone in that office killed Roxy. Why would they?”
“I’m just trying to keep an open mind. Was John there?”
“No. But I overheard Uncle Vinnie tell my father that they managed to get the autopsy results as well as the preliminary toxicology report.”
“And?” I prompted.
“Good thing my hearing is excellent because Uncle Vinnie suddenly lowered his voice. The autopsy showed that Roxy must have banged her head on the windshield before the airbag even opened.”
“Meaning she fell asleep or was knocked unconscious before the car crashed. And the tox report?”
“There was evidence of a strong narcotic in her blood system. Which was suspicious. Roxy got drunk often enough, but she never took drugs.”
“So her death is definitely being treated as a homicide.”
“Looks that way.”
When Evelyn made an appearance the following morning, I told her about Roxy’s funeral and what Angela had overheard.
“No big surprise there,” she said. Today Evelyn was wearing a sleeveless, salmon-colored dress and matching sandals.
“You look very pretty. Are you going somewhere later?”
“Thank you, Carrie. As a matter of fact, I am.”
Ever since I’d met Evelyn, I’d been curious about her “life” when she wasn’t stopping by to visit me. But any time I tried to find out more about her time spent elsewhere, she blew me off. “Where are you going?”
“To a festive event. A celebration, if you must know.”
“You have parties in that other place when you’re not here?”
Evelyn dismissed my question with a wave of her hand. “Of course. Parties. Meetings. Matters to resolve. None of which I can discuss with you.”
“I just wondered—”
“Let’s focus on what’s important, Carrie. Finding the person or persons who murdered Aiden and Roxy.”
Foiled again. I pursed my lips. “How I’d love to, but frankly, I don’t see what more I can do.”
Evelyn made a scoffing sound. “I’m surprised at you—giving up so quickly. You must have some ideas regarding this case.”
“Of course I do! I wonder about Nurse Gwen, now that I know she’s a phony. Gwen has access to drugs. So does Miles. And Nick Gannon, who was unhappy with Aiden and is probably scamming Medicare and insurance companies.”
I stood suddenly, making Evelyn jump out of my path. “And let’s not forget Tommy Vecchio. He had a gripe against Aiden. Angela said he was upset at Roxy’s funeral, but with his hair-trigger temper, maybe he was crying crocodile tears. Who knows what he might have had against his cousin?” I jutted my face forward. “He might have had a reason to murder Roxy, a reason I’m not privy to!”
I was shouting now and I didn’t care. “But these are only possibilities. Suspicions. What we need is evidence, Evelyn. Proof that someone poisoned Aiden and drugged Roxy. Anything else is irrelevant. John made that very clear to me Friday night after I’d shared what I’d learned about Gwen.”
Evelyn smiled sweetly, but her sympathy wasn’t for me. “Carrie, it’s time you learned to show some compassion for your elders.”
Had I offended her unknowingly? “What are you talking about?”
“Sometimes you have to look beyond a person’s words to realize that he’s upset. Poor John must be discouraged by his lack of results in solving these murders. He’s worn down and sleep-deprived and was hoping to get something solid from you.
“When that didn’t happen, you received a large dose of his disappointment in getting nowhere with this case. Carrie, dear, you have to know he respects you as a sleuth and appreciates every piece of information you’ve ever given him.”
I tilted my head from side to side. “It’s possible you’re right.”
Evelyn grinned. “You know I’m right. I’m sure he regrets having given your last offering such short shrift and would be more amenable than usual about sharing information. Now might be a good time to call him and casually ask what’s new in the case?”
My mouth fell open in surprise. “Why, Evelyn, how devious of you.”
She shrugged. “Even better if you can think of another reason to call him. One that has nothing to do with the murders?”
I thought a minute. “I could call him to tell him that Jim’s getting married. John’s rather fond of my father.”
“There it is!” Evelyn said, looking very pleased with herself. “Now I must go or I’ll be late for my fancy shindig.”
“You’re sure you won’t tell me—” But she was gone.