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There was no getting around it, Deidre needed to speak with Ruth Knox. She could not possibly pack Ruth’s things, and especially Penelope Knox’s things, without knowing what Ruth wish to keep. There was also the matter of the books in the tiny house office. Many of texts were religious. Did those belong to Ruth’s father, or were they property for the incoming replacement? Deidre didn’t know much regarding protocol when it came to the death of a minister.
Of course, Ruth Knox likely didn’t either. But, she probably knew more than Deidre.
Deidre pushed her damp hair off her perspiring forehead and looked at the few boxes she’d already packed. She’d started with Knox’s personal effects: toiletries, eyeglasses, what few knickknacks he had possessed. His clothes, however, were a different matter. The man wouldn’t need them, and while it was Deidre’s inclination to donate them, they weren’t her father’s things she was handling.
She glanced up at the clock and decided to make the trek into town to visit with Melinda. She still owed the woman a sincere thanks for recommending the cottage for her. She hoped Melinda might also give Deidre some advice in what to say to Ruth.
She ran up the stairs to wash and change her clothes. She came back to the dining room and found Lori working on her alphabet letters with Mrs. Phillips.
“Look, Mama. I spell-ed my name.” Lori held up a paper with her name, barely readable, scrawled across the entire sheet in a haphazard line.
“My goodness. You’ll be in college before I know it!”
Lori turned a serious expression on Deidre. “Oh no, Mama. I won’t be going to college for a long time.”
Deidre hugged her. “I know, darling. I was teasing you. You are only four and can already write your name. I’m very proud.”
Lori beamed.
“Mrs. Phillips, I need to speak with Melinda. Don’t wait lunch on me. I’ll have it in town.”
“What of dinner?”
“I should be back by dinner,” she said. She kissed the top of Lori’s head and left.
The walk was short. In less than fifteen minutes she breezed through the glass door of the café.
“Hello, Deidre. How are you finding the cottage?” Melinda had come through the swinging silver door to greet her customer. Like the previous time Deidre had seen her, Melinda’s dark hair was smoothed back and topped with a crisp white cap. “Not many people have been inside the Knox’s home, if any, that I can think of. I’m sure people are curious.”
Deidre didn’t like the notion of providing fodder for gossip, and she had no desire to get caught up in the island’s politics. “It’s just a regular house. I appreciate your help in finding me a place to stay.”
“Can I get you some coffee and something to eat?”
“As a matter of fact, you can.”
Melinda handed her a menu. “We have a meatloaf special.”
Deidre snapped the menu shut. “I’ll have that,” she said, despite meatloaf being one of her least favorite meals.
With a smile, she quickly placed a cup of coffee before Deidre. “I’m between throngs right now.” Melinda told her. “It’s always like this around the opening of the arts fair.”
The small café was quiet. Deidre sipped her coffee as Melinda disappeared through the swinging door. A few minutes later she reappeared with a plate laden with a generous portion of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, and string beans.
Deidre picked up her fork and cut into the meatloaf. “I need to talk to Ruth Knox. Do you think it would be all right?”
“Sure.” She dropped into the seat across from Deidre. “She’s staying out at the Montgomery Manor house. Jo, Lydia, and Tevi are real approachable.”
“Oh, yes. I met Jo and Lydia yesterday. Now, how do I find the house?”
“If you’re driving, take Church Road north to Montgomery Lane. If you’re walking, just go on up Main Street to the forest.” She pointed the intended direction. “There’s a path that leads through the trees to the bluffs. Turn north along the bluffs and you’ll run into the back of the house. You can’t miss it, it’s huge.”
As a thanks for Melinda’s information, Deidre ate almost every bite of her meatloaf, and didn’t gag once.
The walk to the forest was fraught with people, but once Deidre hit the path through the trees, she felt as if she were alone in the world. Tall pines combined with the briny sea air cleansed her senses. The trees swayed in a slight breeze, and Deidre could almost talk herself into staying on the island, if it weren’t for needing a job to feed Lori, Mrs. Phillips, and herself. She hadn’t checked to see where the school was, but it was doubtful they had an opening for an elementary art teacher. A grim smile touched her. How much more ridiculous could she get? There was still the little matter of Charity’s murder. A knife protruding from one’s chest wasn’t something one could easily ignore.
If Jackson Montgomery hadn’t killed her sister, who did? Not that she wasn’t entirely convinced of his innocence. Had he denied it? Not that she could recall. He’d only asked if there was anyone besides him who might want Charity dead.
Since Deidre couldn’t think of another soul who would want her sister gone, she was left with no other choice but to pursue the questions she had about Jackson. Men regularly lied, she told herself.
She conveniently squelched the fact she was going by Mrs. rather than Miss. That was out of necessity. The good ol’ double standard. She groaned. She dragged her attention back to the matter at hand. If Jackson Montgomery hadn’t killed her sister then who had? Granted, Charity had not been the most loveable of people. Even as a child, she’d manipulated their father into doing her bidding, letting her off bad behavior after bad behavior, and worse. Charity’s whole life had been ruled by her emotions. She’d had two gears—an ultra-hot temper, and cold, calculating machinations.
Besides the methods of death, what made Jackson believe both murders were connected? To Deidre, Jackson’s connection to the island likely made him guiltier than sin. The idea went round and round her head until it ached.
Just then she stepped from the dark cover of the trees into a clearing with a wide, dirt path. The open sky had her hauling in a deep breath. She hadn’t realized how tense she was under the oppressive canopy of the trees.
A crooked fence lined the cliffs, but she could see places that had rotted and fallen away. A whisper of unease enveloped her, and she shivered under the warmth of the midday sun.
Someone was watching her.
~~~
By sheer luck, Junior had seen Charity coming out of the café. With the crowded streets he’d been able to follow Charity—undetected of course—from a distance as she went up the path to the bluffs. She’d downgraded her former flamboyant mode of dress to less vibrant colors. The subtle hues did nothing to diminish her attractiveness. To his eye, her dark hair, and conservative dress and tones enhanced her sensuality, lent her an air of vulnerability. A heightened sense of desire crawled through him. He would greatly enjoy her favors. His gaze shot out to Serpent’s Point. A great deal of privacy could be had at the lighthouse. A good opportunity to shake her down too...
His arousal grew heavy with the anticipation. There might not be a better opportunity. He started to follow her out of the trees and pulled up short. Jackson had spotted her and lifted a hand, waving.
Junior melted back into the cover of the tall pines and watched with growing dismay as the two conversed quite congenially, complicating Junior’s relatively simple plan.
What if Charity mentioned her hold over him? What if they were co-conspirators? This dangerous and disturbing possibility required more considerable thought and a disciplined strategy.
~~~
Jackson’s steps quickened on the path. The more he was around Deidre Spence, the greater the number of differences he discerned between her and Charity. There was a warmth, a genuineness about Deidre that Charity had never possessed. Admitting it to himself surprised him.
He modulated his steps to a stroll, aware of her soft pink lips alluring him with a sudden urge to taste. Inappropriate. Completely and annoyingly so. He met her on the path. “Taking a tour of the island?”
“Actually, I need to speak with Miss Knox regarding the packing of the cottage’s contents. I hope it’s not an awkward time.”
“No. Not at all. She and my cousins were in the library about to have tea. Come on. I’ll accompany you.”
“Oh. Thank you, Mr. Montgomery—”
“Deidre, please. Call me Jackson.” He gave her his most engaging smile. “You may recall, we are on a joint mission.”
She only hesitated for a second before falling in line beside him. They headed back to the house. “I don’t recall it being a joint mission.” She hated how tremulous her words came out.
He stopped. “Is something wrong?”
A shaky laugh escaped her. “No. Well. It’s just that I had an odd feeling just as I came out of the trees. It felt as though I was being watched.” Her gaze narrowed on him.
He threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I admit it. It was me. I was headed into town when I ran into you. As you can see, there is not much in the way for camouflage from the house to the forest. Mostly bushes and tall grass.”
Her eyes surveyed the terrain. “I-I suppose so.”
