Barnard Drive was a long, winding dead-end street with only three or four houses on large wooded lots. The lawns were sparse in the grass department, with large exposed areas of Georgia red clay caused by tree limbs’ overgrowth blocking the morning sun.
“That must be it there. It says three-two-zero-eight on the brick mailbox.” Amelia leaned over and pointed to the last house on the left. We pulled into the driveway of an old, three-story, clapboard, Queen Anne–style home that had a brass sign on the facade reading “Circa 1900.”
“I’m going to look up the comps on this street,” Amelia said. “These properties could bring in a pretty penny. No wonder Harper was curious about listing the property.”
“Wow.” Melanie leaned up between the seats. “I had no idea she lived in a house this large. Harper’s always talking about conserving everything. I pictured a more minimalistic type of place. And it looks like she has company too. Huh.”
“Yeah. Probably people are dropping off food and offering condolences, like us. Maybe her coworkers at the library.” I parked behind a green Jeep Cherokee. There were three other vehicles in front of it, and a large white work van nestled beside the garage.
I wrinkled my nose when I shut off the ignition and got a whiff of something rotten. “Do y’all smell something?” I glanced around the car. Something in here smelled beyond foul. The air freshener I’d bought had done its job while the car had been running. I’d fork out the extra cash for another when the time came.
“Yeah, I do smell something. Did Mrs. Kreger not pick up after her dog again?” Mel started checking her shoes.
That’d explain it. That woman was the worst about not taking bags out with her when she walked her little Yorkie. “We’re going to have complain, Mel. It’s getting crazy. Now I’m going to have to have my car detailed again.”
As we took in the large home and exited the vehicle, Mel commented, “It must’ve cost a fortune to renovate. The Richardsons must be loaded.”
Rosa had sparked new concerns, and if the family was indeed well-to-do, that did not bode well for public opinion regarding Harper, the young widow. Especially since she was the second wife of Leonard Richardson and barely married for two years. Add that to the deceased man’s elderly sister-in-law and brother casting suspicion her way and yikes! Then an odd thought occurred to me. How eerily similar to our club read.
“Well then, they should’ve done a better job with their front lawn,” Amelia said absentmindedly, bringing me back to the present. None of us wanted to think about the ramifications of what might happen if the detective obtained a search warrant. In Harper’s already fragile state, it would crush her.
“Curb appeal is essential,” Amelia continued as if we were simply here for a visit. “It can bring in an additional ten K with some properties. And Harper will want to get top dollar. She’ll probably be eager to sell now …” Amelia’s voice trailed off, and worried glances were exchanged. Now, with her husband gone, she should have no trouble putting the property on the market. We all hated to think that way.
As we unloaded the trunk, each of us grabbing a bag, the pungent order I’d caught a moment ago assaulted us. I checked my shoes, and they were clean. Amelia handed me the little bag she’d been carrying so she could inspect hers, and I nearly gagged. “My God! This is the smell.” I held the bag at arm’s length.
Melanie leaned over, sniffed, her face nearly turning green. “Yep. That’s it. What the hell is that?”
I tossed the bag back to Amelia, and she rolled her eyes. “It’s Valerian root tea. It’s a natural way to help Harper get some sleep. It’s called nature’s valium. It has a real earthy fragrance.”
“Earthy? Mel thought we’d stepped in dog mess. There is no way I’d drink that. Um, wow.” I took a step back just as a black Lexus, blasting some sort of rock music, pulled up beside us. A man about our age, wearing sunglasses, got out. He flashed a movie star smile. “Can I help you ladies with something?”
“We’re here to see Harper.” I smiled back.
“About what?”
“Um, we’re her friends. We’re here to support her.” Melanie’s eyes narrowed, and she sounded annoyed by the question.
The man, whoever he was, seemed to be rather protective of our friend. I stepped up and shuffled some bags around before extending my hand, my smile still in place. “Hi, I’m Lyla Moody, and these are my friends Melanie and Amelia. We know Harper from the library.”
He shook my hand lightly before removing his sunglasses and running a hand through his wheat-blond hair. “Oh, hey. I think I recall Harper mentioning you guys.” He nodded at our little group. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Harper’s had such a rough time with my Dad’s death. And a couple of reporters have been by.”
His dad?
“We understand,” Amelia said, but looked a little taken aback by the “dad” comment too.
“Oh. I’m LJ … er, Leonard Richardson Junior,” he said, shrugging, “but everyone just calls me LJ.”
“Nice to meet you.” I gave him a sympathetic smile. “We are so sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah, thanks.” He frowned appropriately, but the sadness didn’t quite reach his eyes. Odd.
“We won’t stay long. It appears you already have company.” I nodded toward the cars.
“Nah, those belong to the family. Welcome to our home.” He put his glasses on top of his head. “You all can follow me.” He turned and started for the large white front porch, whistling.
“Our home?” Amelia raised her brows.
I shrugged.
“He doesn’t seem all that torn up about his dad, does he?” Melanie said under her breath.
He certainly didn’t.
LJ took the steps two at a time and shoved his key into the front door, which had a stained-glass oval window in the middle. Maybe the news hadn’t sunk in yet. Some people needed more time than others to process trauma.
The three of us slowly walked inside after him. A green marble fireplace with an old-fashioned painting of an unsmiling Harper and Leonard hanging above it greeted us as we entered. Leonard must’ve been close to sixty or so when they’d had this painted, making him thirty years her senior or more. I tried not to pass judgment.
To the right of the fireplace was a small window and a set of stairs where LJ went. He put his hand on the white railing and yelled loudly, “Harper, you have company!”
We all jumped and glanced around with full hands, shifting uncomfortably. The floors looked to be all original, as did the fireplace. A snorting sound came from our left, and I glanced through the open French doors into what appeared to be a formal living or sitting room. A peek inside revealed an expensive rug, antique lighting, and velour furnishings in earth tones. Edna was asleep in a settee with rounded arms.
While LJ still called up the stairs to Harper, I mouthed to the others that Leonard’s sister-in-law was asleep in the next room.
After another yell, he turned to us. “No need to wait here. Make yourselves at home. Go on through there.” He pointed to the little hallway in between the entryway where we were and the sitting room. “Put the food in the kitchen. I’ll go up and get her. She’s probably in the shower or something.”
We all exchanged another glance after he disappeared up the stairs. We moved down the long, narrow hallway, passing the formal dining room off the room Leonard’s sister-in-law, Edna, snoozed in. It had high ceilings like the rest of the house and was painted emerald green with white trim. It, too, had a fireplace.
“I wonder why Harper didn’t mention that his son lived with them.” Melanie looked concerned.
I shrugged. “She told us about Edith, and we had a lot of questions as to why. Maybe she thought it would lead to more questions, or perhaps it’s a recent development.”
Mel’s eyes went wide, and I knew what she was thinking when I goofed. The name of the sister-in-law of Crooked House was Edith, and there were so many similarities here.
I didn’t want to get caught up in the similarities of the novel and rushed to correct myself. “No, not Edith, Edna.”
Mel nodded and softly mimicked the Twilight Zone theme song.
Amelia sidled up behind us and we nearly gagged. That tea was an affront. “Since Rosa said his brother and sister-in-law turned in evidence, I wonder if the brother lives here too.”
Mel slowly raised her shoulders.
“I have no idea.” I turned my head, not able to take that odor one more second. “Move that bag, Amelia.”
“Gosh, you’re like a child. It’s not that bad.”
My eyes were watering. It was indeed that bad. The sound of water running caught my attention, and we slowed. We kept glancing around when we heard the creaking of a door opening. But there wasn’t a door on the right-hand side of the hallway.
I saw the young woman I’d seen with Edna the last night come out a paneled wall door to our right. The room would be impossible to notice when the door was closed. I wondered if a lot of old homes had hidden places like that.
The girl was tall, thin, and pale, with chestnut-colored hair. I fought to control my eyes from going wide at her attire—a vintage, green, fringed flapper dress. The light bathed the black and white tile flooring, exposing a small powder room. Up close, she appeared much younger. I’d guess she was anywhere from sixteen to nineteen, with almond-shaped eyes, which she’d lined with jet-black eyeliner, and sparkly gold shadow glittered on her eyelids. She cast an odd look our way. We all smiled instinctively.
I cleared my throat. “Hello. We’re friends of Harper’s. You must be—”
She sniffed, cutting me off as she lifted her nose and continued down the hallway. Apparently, to her, our presence was of no consequence.
Amelia frowned. “Who was that?”
I leaned closer and whispered, “It’s Leonard’s daughter.”
Melanie let out a little giggle, something she does when she’s nervous. “This family just keeps getting weirder. I have no idea how Harper stands it.”
“I’m not so sure she had a choice.” Amelia made a face of disapproval as we continued down the hallway.
“Who are you?” a wheezy voice asked us. And we halted beside a galley way that appeared to be a butler’s pantry. An elderly man sat slumped in a wheelchair; a burgundy crochet afghan lay across his lap, and his finger pointed at us.
“Um, hello, sir. We’ve brought food for the family.” I hoped we’d brought enough for the additional mouths we hadn’t known we needed to feed. I’d remembered about the sister and daughter but hadn’t known that the son or this elderly man would also be here.
“Harper.” He sliced his hand through the air. “That little gold digger. She ain’t gettin’ one red cent if I have anything to say about it.” Oh my. He must be one of the ones who went to the police station with so-called evidence. “I told Leonard to watch out for her. She’d been aimin’ to take this family’s fortune all along. Well, I’ll contest the will if I have to. She ain’t gettin’ nothin’! That money belongs to the family, not her. Not her, you hear! She ain’t ever been one of us. The little hussy.”
Melanie let out a little another giggle, and I shot her a stern glare over my shoulder. My friend tended to laugh when she got scared, nervous, or at the most inappropriate times—mostly when Mel wasn’t sure how she ought to react. It wasn’t her fault, but under the circumstances, I’d hoped she get a better handle on her little affliction.
She seemed to take the hint and glanced down at her feet while pinching her lips together. I did feel bad for her.
“We didn’t mean to upset you, sir. You are?” I asked with a smile.
“Me?” He squinted his eyes at me. “Who wants to know?”
Melanie snickered again, but I could tell she’d wrestled with the one that got away.
“I’m Lyla Moody.” After his rant about Harper, I withheld the information regarding our friendship.
“Moody, huh?” He glanced up at the ceiling as if trying to place the name. Suddenly, he shrugged as if he’d given up. “You got a cigarette on ya, Moody?”
More snickers from behind me.
“Um, no, sir. I don’t smoke.”
He sliced another hand through the air. “Nobody smokes anymore. Leonard smoked. Beatrice smokes, but she only smokes those fancy French cigarettes.” He crinkled up his nose.
“I apologize about the cigarettes, but we do have some food, Mr.…?”
“No ‘Mr.’ here. I’m just Felix. Leonard was my only brother.” His face crumpled, and his head slumped forward. He used a handkerchief in his left hand to wipe his eyes. “Sure gonna miss that son of a bitch.”
“We’re so very sorry for your loss.” I felt helpless. “We’re going to take this food to the kitchen and give you some privacy.”
He sniffed loudly, and despite his cantankerousness, my heart ached for the old guy.
Amelia stepped up beside me. “If you’d like, we could make you a plate.”
He nodded his head. “That’d be good. Thank ya.”
“Um, would you like us to help you into the kitchen?” I offered.
He shook his head. “Nah. Those two fools are in there. I’d rather be in here.”
We all moved slowly down the rest of the hallway. All of us seemed to be processing our encounter with the young women and the little old man. I paused several feet from the kitchen when I heard a hushed conversation and the rustling of paper. “There’s nothing in here about how he died.”
“And you were expecting there to be?” The person asking sounded like a woman with a low husky voice—then more rustling.
“Yes, woman. That’s why I said it.” I’d been right. It was a woman. I glanced back at my friends. Everyone had the same “should we stay, or should we go?” expression. “Idiotic newspaper. There aren’t any pictures of the body or anything. That detective fella said someone brained Leonard. What kind of fool reporting is going on in this town?” They must be the fools Felix Richardson had referenced.
“They were hoping to find crime scene pictures in the local paper,” Amelia mouthed.
“This is nuts!” Melanie whisper-shouted, and I nodded in agreement.
“You all find it?” LJ called. His boots echoed in the hallway.
“Yes.” I continued into the large country-style kitchen with a large square table in the center. A couple, the one we’d overheard, sat sipping coffee and reading the local paper.
“Hey.” LJ moved around us, then glanced back at us and grinned. “These are Harper’s buddies. They brought food.” He moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, cracking it open and taking a deep sip. “Harper will be down in a minute.”
The couple at the table eyed us with palpable scrutiny.
“Oh, sorry.” LJ swallowed quickly. “This is my cousin Kenneth and his wife, Janice. They’re staying with us for a while.”
“Hello. Hi.” We all stumbled in unison with the greetings. Too weird. All these people behaved as if they owned the place.
“Just put those bags down here.” LJ took the bags from us and placed them on the table, shoving the newspapers and mail out of the way.
“We so terribly sorry for your loss,” Amelia said to the couple while placing the apple pie and the bag she carried down.
“Don’t waste your sympathy. Anger is what you should feel.” Janice ran her hand through her frizzy bleached-blonde hair. “That little gold digger is to blame. Don’t believe me—just ask Charlie. He knows all about it.”
“Janice!” LJ scowled.
She raised her hands. “I’m not saying she killed him. But she was supposed to be looking after him. He wasn’t himself these last few weeks. What was she thinking? Taking him to a party in his condition was absurd.” I wondered if she, too, had been involved when the others went to the police. This family certainly didn’t think highly of Harper, and the thought troubled me greatly.
“Yep. My dear uncle and I were working on a project together. I do hope I have enough notes to finish it. He would have wanted that.” Kenneth attempted a dutiful expression though he didn’t quite make it. “Smells good.” He began picking through the bag closest to him and paused. He waved his hand over his nose. “Shew! Did dad mess his pants again?”
“I ain’t done it!” Felix bellowed from the other room.
Janice laughed as Kenneth found the bag. “Shew! Here it is! What’s in this bag? I ain’t eaten it!”
“It’s an herbal tea.” Amelia’s face flushed. We’d warned her.
The old man got up and tossed it into the trash and tied it up. “This needs to go out now, LJ, you hear?”
“I’ll get right on it.” LJ blinked rapidly above the can. I guess the odor was still emitting through the black garbage bag.
“Well, I hope y’all enjoy the food. We”—I waved to include my friends—“didn’t want the family to have to worry about cooking or anything during your time of grief.” We certainly hadn’t brought enough food for all these people for more than a single meal.
“Excuse me.” All eyes turned to Amelia. “The elderly gentlemen in the other room asked for a plate. Would you mind if I made him one?”
“Uncle Felix has got to eat too.” LJ finished off his beer and went to take the trash out. It didn’t escape our attention that he kept the bag at arm’s length.
Kenneth shrugged. “Sure. He’s right. My old man has to eat too. And while you’re at it, take a plate to Aunt Edna. She’ll wake up when she smells the food. Plates are over there.” He waved to the cabinet beside the white ceramic sink and took a drumstick right out of the box. Amelia went to retrieve a plate and some flatware to dish out the food.
“I’ll help you, Amelia.” Mel began taking the food from the bags.
“What did you say your name was?” Janice twirled a finger through her hair.
I hadn’t, but I didn’t see the harm in introducing myself. “Lyla Moody.”
“That your natural color? It’s a unique copper color.” She squinted at me as if investigating my roots.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Quiet, woman.” Kenneth pointed at me. “Moody.” He scrounged around for the newspaper and pointed. “You’re the little gal who found Uncle Leonard.”
“You be quiet!” Janice cast him a murderous glower.
Uncomfortable, I folded my hands in front of me, and my heart began beating like a drum. I didn’t know how Harper coped with living here. The vibe in this house caused my skin to crawl. “Yes, sir.” I fought to control my irritation with the Neanderthal.
“What’d he look like?” Kenneth popped a couple of pieces of fried okra into his mouth. Janice glanced up then as if she, too, were interested in my answer.
And when I cast a glance over to LJ, who’d just come back in, with hopes of him saving me from being rude, he raised his brows and said, “Well?”
Why in the world would his son want to know something like that?
“Um,” I glanced back at my friends as they left the room, off to deliver the food to the senior residents of the house.
“It wasn’t … well …” I stumbled over the words. How did one describe such a sight to the supposedly grieving family members? I honestly didn’t desire to go into it at all. What type of family behaves this way?
“Hey.” Harper entered the kitchen, saving me from continuing. Our fellow club member had swollen red eyes and wore a long, belted, denim dress. Seeing her settled all my doubts that had been raised by Rosa’s call.
“Harper. You poor thing.” I hugged her. “How are you holding up?”
She shrugged and laid her head on my shoulder.
“We brought some food. Are you hungry?”
“I don’t think I could eat just now.” Harper released me. “Why don’t we all go sit outside for a bit.”
“Okay.” Anything to get out of this house.