There was no time for a beach trip, although it was one of those soft Michigan summer days when the sun was circled with haze, eagles and turkey buzzards flew in lazy circles, sprinklers dashed and dotted front lawns, and the voices of playing children were absorbed by the leaves on all the trees and bushes along the streets.
Jenny thought how she and Lisa could have been lying in the sand by now, the way they used to, and burning because they didn’t pay attention to how long they’d been in the sun. They could have been talking about nothing all day followed by some swimming—challenging each other to races.
Instead, it was another brown funeral.
Jenny pulled into the parking lot of Tannin’s. People standing on the front porch turned to stare as she drove in. She ignored the stares, too occupied with thinking of a way to talk to Abigail Cane without Carmen Volker, the hovering secretary, or Alfred Rudkers, the rude attorney, on guard beside her.
She needed time alone with the woman. She had copies of the letters to show her.
She’d been to the jail to sit with an unhappy Zoe, all the life sucked out of her. Strained, dumb back-and-forth followed: “How’s the food?” “Lousy.” “How’s your cell?” “Perfect, glad you asked.”
The only thing to hold on to was Penelope’s promise to have her out sometime that morning.
Zoe had echoed Jenny’s need to talk to Abigail. “Show her those letters,” she’d begged. “See what she thinks. Something is wrong in that family, I’m telling you. The answer’s there. Words! Words! Words! You’ve got to listen for them. ‘Cheat.’ ‘Cheating.’ ‘Cheaters.’ ‘Cheated.’ Now what could all of that mean? At cards? At what? They have no money—except for Abigail, and she’s not dead. But then there’s that ‘what you’ve been hiding.’ What could that be? Hiding something lets out cheating at cards. Something else. All of them in it together? ‘All three of you.’ You three: Adam, Aaron, and Abigail. My head hurts from thinking so hard.”
Zoe’d looked around at the bare, gray walls, gathered her strength, and turned her attention to how Fida was doing.
“Mom’s giving her a bath this morning. I’m going over to the funeral home a little early, see who’s there. Maybe I can get Abigail alone for a few minutes. Mom and Lisa are coming later. Lisa’s leaving soon. Got to get back to Montana. They’re shooting some finishing shots.”
And then there had been nothing left to say, so Jenny hugged Zoe, told her not to worry, and left for the funeral home, hoping there’d be time later that afternoon for her and Lisa, maybe even with Zoe, to head over to the Lake Michigan shore and have a couple of real “sister” moments before Lisa had to go.
Jenny’s cell phone rang as she pulled into the parking lot.
It was Penelope.
“I’m bringing her to the funeral home.”
“That’s crazy, Penny. People will treat her like dirt. They’ve already made up their minds that she’s the one who did this. Please don’t put Zoe, or the rest of us, through that.”
Jenny had a couple of reasons for disagreeing, one of them having to do with wet sand in the late afternoon, which in no way was going to include Penelope Farnum.
There was a long, cool pause on the other end of the line. “My name is Penelope, Jenny. Not ‘Penny.’”
“Okay, Penelope. My name is Jennifer, not ‘Jenny.’”
“Don’t be an ass,” Penelope said.
“You either. Remember, I knew you when you wet your pants in third grade.”
There was a pause. “And I knew you when you tried to kiss Bobby Solomon in the coatroom.”
Laughter broke out on both ends of the phone.
“Okay. ‘Penny,’ if that’s what you want,” Penelope said. “Just write the correct name on my checks.”
“Deal.” Jenny laughed. “Penny and Jenny. Sounds like a comedy team.”
“So what about Christopher Morley?” she asked. “He still in town?”
“He had to get back to New York, but he told Tony the work looked good and he was in the process of drawing up a contract for two more books on magic people or fairy tales. Whatever she wants to do. He said he hoped she’d approve.”
“Great!” She actually sounded happy. “I like to be the bearer of good news. Lord knows, she can use it. So we’ll see you at the funeral home,” Penny said. “This woman is innocent and doesn’t have anything to hide. You’ll be there?”
“I’m just parking. I hope to set up a meeting with Abigail Cane. Hope you don’t make a mess of things.”
“I know what’s best for my client. And I want to see firsthand how people react to her.”
Jenny hung up, thinking how she was stuck in a world full of lunatics. Nothing was the way it should be. Jenny knew enough about law to realize that none of this was the right thing to do: not Zoe getting detained in the first place, not having her still under suspicion, and not bringing her to the wake of a man many in town think she’d killed.
“Curiouser and Curiouser”—watchwords to live by. Jenny wished Zoe was there to be proud of how she was progressing with her “Alice” studies. She was in a place much like the inside of Zoe Zola’s head. It wasn’t a mind she welcomed breaking into, but at the moment, it felt like the sanest place to be.
***
Jenny stepped onto Tannin’s porch and greeted old neighbors: Millie Sheraton and Louise Dyer, fanning themselves with their handkerchiefs and smiling wide at Jenny. Vera Wattles, another neighbor, was looking aggrieved at Sarah Plenty, who always said the dullest things—and in a monotone.
Jenny ran into Minnie Moon, who lowered her voice, then raised her thick eyebrows as she asked something Jenny didn’t catch.
A few of the men had already pulled off their ties because of the heat. Sullen children whined that they were hot.
Once inside and past Tom Tannin, she pushed through the very warm and crowded vestibule into the viewing room. She got in the mourners line to talk to Abigail, happy to see her secretary and attorney were nowhere in sight.
She watched the people around her, so many drawn into little cliques, their heads together. Jenny could easily imagine what they were gossiping about and dreaded again the moment when Zoe walked into the room.
Dora arrived and stood in the doorway, looking for Jenny. When she saw her in line, she put up her hand and hurried forward, her face frazzled, her body stiffly awkward as she made her way through the crowd.
“I want to show you something,” she whispered loud enough for people to turn, then jerked her head toward the back of the room.
Once alone, Dora put a fist out to Jenny and dropped a small key into her hand, an old key—tarnished brass.
“What’s this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“I gave Fida a bath. She was filthy. I thought it would be a nice surprise for Zoe.”
“Yes?” Jenny knew enough to wait until her mother was ready to get to the meat of the message.
“That red collar of hers was hidden under a lot of dirty hair, so it wasn’t until I soaped her up and took the collar off that I found the key. Duct-taped to the inside.” Dora leaned in close. “Duct tape. Can you imagine? Wrapped around and around.”
“Maybe an extra house key?”
Dora shook her head. “That’s no house key. You take a look at it?”
“Okay. Any idea what it opens?”
“Some kind of box, I’d say. Bigger than a diary key. Smaller than a safe deposit box key.” Dora couldn’t come up with a better answer.
“Let’s ask Zoe when she gets here. Should be any—”
There was a cessation of sound around them, a dropping of voices, a kind of holding of breath throughout the viewing room.
Penelope and Zoe stood in the doorway. Zoe was out of prison orange and back into a long flowered top and white cuffed pants that brushed the tops of her white sandals. No black this time. When the pair spotted Dora and Jenny, they made directly for them.
Zoe hugged them. She didn’t say anything, just smiled a wan smile, ignoring the shocked faces around her. Her eyes were fixed only on her friends, and then on Penelope, who icily stared down the looks coming their way.
Dora opened her hand and showed Zoe the key she’d found taped to Fida’s collar.
“Where?” Zoe was incredulous, taking the key and turning it over and over in her hands. “Taped to her collar? I didn’t put it there. The only time she was out of my sight was when Aaron had her—other than now. And she’s been with you. I don’t understand.”
Jenny looked up to see Tony edging his way through the crowd. Here comes the cavalry. Jenny wanted to laugh. His rugged face lit up when he saw her. He straightened his shoulders and ran a quick hand over his unruly hair. He was dressed in dark-blue summer pants, white shirt, and black tie. Jenny smiled. Clothes sure could change a man.
Dora saw him, too, and would have yoo-hooed, but instead settled for a wave.
After the greetings—a big hug for Zoe, smiles for Jenny and Lisa, and an introduction to Penny—Dora put her closed hand out to him.
“I found this taped to Fida’s collar,” she whispered.
He took the key.
“I didn’t put it there,” Zoe said.
“You know who did?”
She shook her head.
Tony turned the key over. He fumbled in a pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and took three photos of the key.
“Anybody know what it belongs to?”
Penny threw up her hands. “Nothing to do with me.” She hesitated, looking straight at Tony. “I understand you were a detective in Detroit.”
He nodded.
“Think you can find a way to identify what kind of key that is?” Penny asked. “Maybe what kind of box it fits?”
“I know a man in Detroit. Helped me more than once. A locksmith. A real expert on keys. I’ll text him these pictures, see if he knows what it belongs to.”
“Will you tell the police chief about it?” Penny slowly asked.
He shrugged. “I’ve agreed to work with him—when I can. Let me take a shot at identifying this first. See what I come up with.”
“Jenny Weston,” a woman’s deep voice behind them said.
Jenny and the others turned to Abigail Cane.
The stately woman’s eyes were pained behind her gold-embellished glasses. She looked from one face to the other, finally stopping at Zoe. “I’m so sorry you’ve been drawn into this,” she said, then stopped, overcome with something that wouldn’t let her finish.
It took a minute for her to turn to Jenny. “May I speak to you?” she asked, then turned and walked off with a privileged woman’s certainty, knowing Jenny would be right behind her.