Chapter 21
Josie locked up the shop behind her, careful to close the door with her sleeve rather than her fingers, the way Detective Potts had showed her. Although if there were fingerprints on the front door, it was likely she’d smeared them already.
Mitch pulled up out front just as she stepped onto the sidewalk. He rolled down the window. “Perfect timing?” he said.
“Perfect timing.” She took the big step up into the SUV, closed the door, and buckled up.
“You weren’t alone in there, were you?” His tone somehow managed to admonish and show concern at the same time.
She shook her head. “No, I had Detective Potts with me. He’s going to have the place dusted for fingerprints again.”
“Good. I’d hate to have to yell at you for doing something dangerous.” He flashed her a smile that showed a lot of white, even teeth. He either had excellent genes, or had had excellent orthodontic work as a kid.
“Danger’s my middle name,” she said, putting on a cheesy British accent. Ugh. Why had she done that? It was so lame. But Mitch just laughed.
“Ready? Let’s go see Eb.”
It was a beautiful day for a drive. The sky was blue and nearly cloudless, and enough snow had melted off the lawns and fields that patches of brown grass were visible. Maybe spring really would come to Dorset Falls, someday. Josie closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat. She dozed off.
When she woke, they were pulling into the parking lot of the hospital. Her head jerked up. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I guess I’m not very good company.”
Mitch moved the gearshift into park. “Don’t worry about it. You said you didn’t sleep well last night. And I’m not surprised, with everything you’ve been going through.”
“Well, I hope, at least, I didn’t snore.” That would be embarrassing.
“Nope. You sleep pretty as a picture. Not that I noticed. I was keeping my eyes on the road, I swear.”
Warmth crept up her neck and over her cheeks. She opened the door and stepped out, grateful for the cooler air. “All right, you charmer, come on,” she said across the hood. “Let’s go see the other charmer in my life.”
A different receptionist was on duty today. She raised her eyebrows when Josie told her whom they were visiting, but she was too much of a professional to say anything more than, “He’s been moved to Room 216. Elevators are down this hall and to the right.”
They found Eb sitting up in bed. Someone, a nurse probably, had found him the newspaper, and he was dutifully filling in boxes on the daily crossword. Josie felt a stab of guilt. She should have remembered to bring him the paper. He didn’t look up as they came in, even though he couldn’t have failed to see them.
“Eb?” Josie said. “How’s it going?”
He made one more notation, then finally deigned to acknowledge their presence over the tops of his cheaters. “Did you bring my cookies?”
She felt worse about the cookies than about the paper. She’d completely forgotten. “Uh, no. Sorry.”
He pursed up his lips. “Did you remember to feed the dog?”
“All taken care of,” Mitch said. “So. What does the doctor say?”
“Not a heart attack. I’ve got the ticker of a teenager.”
Josie felt a surge of relief. “What else did she say?”
Eb was prevented from answering by the arrival of the cardiologist, Dr. Andersen. “I’m glad you’re here. Let’s pull up a chair, shall we?” Her tone was friendly and efficient, same as it had been yesterday.
“Uncle Eb says it definitely wasn’t a heart attack,” Josie said.
Dr. Andersen smiled. “No. His heart is quite healthy. We did a number of tests to rule out things like angina. I’m glad to say that Eb is in extremely good shape for a man of his age.”
“Which I told you when I first came in, Doc.” Eb folded his arms across his stomach.
“Yes, you certainly did.” The doctor cut her eyes to Josie. “He’s quite articulate about his needs and wants.”
“No argument there,” Josie said. “So if it wasn’t a heart attack or angina, what was it?”
“Heartburn,” Eb piped up, triumphant. “Could have just taken a spoonful of baking soda mixed in warm water instead of being poked and prodded for the last twenty-four hours.”
Josie turned to the doctor. “Really? That’s it?”
Mitch was smiling broadly in the chair next to her.
“That’s it,” Dr. Andersen said. “What’s he been eating lately?”
Evelyn’s never-ending casserole, that was what. “So you’re telling me that green peppers and tomato sauce cause heart-attack-like symptoms?”
The doctor nodded. “Severe indigestion certainly can. I don’t recommend the bicarbonate of soda remedy, though. There are better choices.” She wrote down the name of an over-the-counter medication on a slip of paper and handed it to Josie. “You can get this at any drugstore. Just keep it on hand.”
“So can we bring him home?” Josie asked.
“Well,” the doctor responded, “since we have him here, I thought we could have his leg x-rayed. It’s been six weeks since the accident, and we may be able to get him out of that cast sooner than his next appointment.”
Eb sat up straighter. “Where’s the machine? Take your picture and bring in the saw and let’s get it done, Doc.”
Dr. Andersen chuckled. “I’m a cardiologist, Eben. The orthopedist won’t be in until tomorrow. So if you’d like to be our guest for one more night, you won’t have to come back next week as long as Dr. Robbins gives you the okay.”
Eb leaned back against the pillows, considering. “Fine. Bed’s comfortable. There’s Jell-O and mashed potatoes at every meal. Even at breakfast if you want it. I’ll stay.” He leveled a stare at the doctor. “But this block of cement”—he indicated his cast—“better be off tomorrow.” His tone was ominous.
The doctor seemed slightly amused. “Well, I can’t promise anything. That’ll be up to Dr. Robbins to decide.”
“Hmmph.” Eb was obviously done talking. But he made no move to get out of bed, so Josie thought it was safe to assume he planned to stay.
Unfortunately, that also meant that she’d be staying alone at the farm tonight, a thought that did not exactly thrill her. Maybe she could get Jethro to sleep in her room. She certainly wasn’t going back to Evelyn’s. No matter what Detective Potts thought about the other ladies of the Charity Knitters, Evelyn was hiding something. And until Josie found out for sure that it wasn’t murder, she was going to stay on her guard.
The doctor rose. “That’s settled, then. Dr. Robbins will see you on his rounds tomorrow.” She turned to Mitch and Josie. “I’ll look in on Eb again in the morning, but as long as he doesn’t have any further problems, I won’t need to see him anymore. Just watch what he eats. Avoid greasy and high-acid foods if possible.”
When the doctor had gone, Josie turned to Eb, who had picked up his crossword puzzle and was studiously filling it in. “We’re here to visit, Eb. You wanna play cards or something?” Of course, the only card game she could remember how to play was Go Fish, but she might be able to manage rummy or Crazy Eights, if someone gave her a refresher.
He didn’t look up. “Nope. Don’t want to play cards. Do want you to go home. You got the stuff in the shop sold yet?”
Nuts. She’d forgotten. Monica hadn’t texted her back with the buyer’s contact information. “Uh, I told you there was an offer.”
“An offer ain’t money in the bank.”
“I’m working on it, okay?” She felt her hackles rise. She hadn’t asked for this job.
“Eb,” Mitch cut in. “I’m going to take her home now. We’ll call in the morning.” He took Josie’s arm. “Let’s go and leave Eb to the nurses.”
She took a deep breath.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eb. And I’ll make sure we have cookies at home.” But her uncle had already gone back to his puzzle. He didn’t look up as she and Mitch left.
* * *
Josie looked at the set of keys in her hand. Mitch had dropped her off at home to pick up her car, then she’d driven to the general store, where she tried to work on her drawings. But it was impossible to concentrate. Detective Potts had dismissed her theory about a lady of Dorset Falls bumping off other ladies in an effort to get at Josie’s great-uncle’s new fortune. Potts had all but confirmed that the suspect about to be arrested was a man. And yet, she was not going to be able to dismiss her theory herself until she found out what was going on in that building across the street from Miss Marple Knits.
There was no time like the present. She’d just stick each key into the lock in turn, and see if one worked. If it did, she’d go upstairs, quickly find out what was going on up there, and the mystery would be solved. Her implied promise to Mitch that she wouldn’t go anywhere alone would only be bent, not broken, if Evelyn or Helen were upstairs. Josie’s ever-present canister of Mace was in her purse in case she got into trouble.
If none of the keys worked, she’d give it up, do her best to forget about it. Either way, maybe she could get some closure.
A rare car drove down Main Street, causing her to step back out of its path. She checked both ways, gave a glance to the shaded third floor window, and crossed the street.
Some of the keys didn’t need trying. The key to Cora’s wrecked car. The keys that she knew fit the front and back doors of Miss Marple Knits. The ones that went to Eb’s farmhouse. She pressed the next remaining key to the lock. No luck with that or the second one. On the third try, the metal slid in, causing her to gasp softly. Honestly, she hadn’t really thought this would work.
The key turned, and the tumblers clicked. Dropping Evelyn’s travel mug, Josie’s excuse for barging in, into her bag, she tried the door’s old-fashioned knob. The door swung open.
Breathe, Josie. Here you go. She stepped inside.
She found herself on a tiny landing, only a few feet square. A metal light fixture hung from a chain overhead, illuminating the space with a dim light. She put a clog on the first riser, then put one foot in front of the other, ascending the stairs. At the halfway point, she grabbed the railing and looked over her shoulder. It wasn’t too late. She could turn back. But she didn’t.
Josie stepped off onto a landing on the third floor, not as large as its counterpart across the street. This one was ringed with doors, each bearing a metal number from one to five. Door number four was ajar. She approached it.
Through the crack, she could see what appeared to be a living room. Perhaps these were efficiency apartments. None could be terribly large if there were five units in this smallish space. She gave the door a push with her foot, and it swung open. Feeling like Goldilocks, and wondering what she was walking into, Josie went in.
A floral-upholstered living-room set, each fabric surface fitted with a clear plastic covering, took up the center of the room. Two 1960s-style end tables in a blond wood, with a matching coffee table decorated with a bowl of plastic sequined fruit, completed the grouping. Was someone living here? If so, it was someone with a taste for kitschy furniture, or someone with a tag-sale budget.
To the right, through a pass-through cut into the wall, she could see a tiny kitchen. Even for a noncook such as herself, the space would have been tough to use. Only a couple of cabinets were visible. She trained her ear toward the kitchen, where she could hear a faint burbling noise, followed by a hiss, as of steam. The coffeepot was on.
If the coffeepot was on, someone was home.
A fact that was confirmed by a gray herringbone wool coat hung neatly on a peg on one wall, a cherry-red scarf draped under the lapels.
Evelyn’s coat.
Josie wasn’t sure why that surprised her. Evelyn’s car was parked outside in the alley.
A laptop computer sat on a small, Formica-topped table with chrome trim. The screen was on. She glanced at it, then back again, frowning. It seemed to be some kind of video feed. Examining the image more closely, she realized it was being transmitted from a security camera trained on the waiting room of a business of some kind.
A business that looked familiar, because she’d been inside it only a few days ago.
Rusty’s car repair shop.
Josie wasn’t sure what she’d expected to find, but it wasn’t this. She watched as Rusty came into the picture behind the counter, his tall, bulky frame clearly recognizable. A woman approached the counter. All Josie could see was the woman’s back. There was no audio, but she didn’t need sound to know whom she was looking at.
It was Josie herself.
The loop repeated, and Josie walked back onto the screen.
The realization slammed into her with the force of a meteorite hitting the earth and shattering into a thousand pieces. Evelyn had been spying on her. The older woman had been pretending to be her friend, but had somehow been keeping tabs on her. Was she afraid Josie was getting too close to the truth about Cora’s and Lillian’s deaths?
Josie backed away, stunned. This couldn’t be right. How had Evelyn gotten hold of Rusty’s security footage? Evelyn couldn’t have known that Josie would visit Rusty’s that day.
Or could she have? Josie’s fingers closed around the can of Mace.
Was it possible Evelyn had fiddled with Josie’s car, causing the wonky ignition, knowing that Josie would take it in for repair? The vision of Evelyn in a mechanic’s jumpsuit, applying a greasy wrench to Josie’s Saab, flashed across Josie’s brain. Ridiculous.
What reason could Evelyn have for keeping tabs on Josie? Not a single thing came to mind.
Josie started as the front door opened. Helen Crawford did a double take, her hand flying up to her throat. “Josie?”
“Helen?” Josie’s heart rate skyrocketed.
Helen set down her shopping bag and stared. “What are you doing here?” she finally said, looking more surprised than confused. “Did Evelyn bring you? I thought we’d decided no one was allowed up here. Ever.”
Josie decided to play dumb. Which was not far from the truth. She had no idea what was going on here. Couldn’t even begin to guess.
“I had a set of Cora’s keys. I wanted to see what they went to.” It was the truth. Mostly.
“Does Evelyn know you’re here?” Helen pulled a tray of cookies out of the bag and set them on the table, next to the laptop. Molasses, maybe, with a sparkly sugar coating.
Josie shook her head. “I just arrived.”
“Well then,” Helen said, her voice crisp, “you may as well see everything.” She beckoned Josie to follow across the green shag carpet to a closed interior door. Helen knocked softly, then opened the door and stepped aside.
The room, which had probably been a bedroom when this was a proper apartment, was taken up by three six-foot folding tables set in a horseshoe shape around the perimeter. The tables were covered with various pieces of electronic equipment, as well as several large screens, all of which seemed to be playing video feeds like the one on the laptop out front. In a wheeled stenographer’s chair in front of the screens sat Evelyn, an enormous pair of headphones covering her ears. She seemed oblivious to their presence.
Josie felt her mouth drop open. What in the name of Gucci was this? It looked like the set of a movie.
Helen stepped forward and reached out a hand to tap Evelyn’s shoulder. “Evvy?” she said. Evelyn spun around, the cord from the headphones crossing her body like a bandolier. Her face went pale as she focused on Josie.
“Code red,” Helen said.
“How—? What are you doing here?” Evelyn spluttered. “This place is secret!” Her face went as scarlet as the scarf around her coat in the outer room.
Helen’s voice was matter-of-fact. “She had Cora’s key. She must have seen your car in the alley and figured it out. I told you to stop parking there.”
Josie just stood there, agape, until she finally found her voice. “I don’t understand. Do you run some kind of surveillance business here? I thought you were both retired.”
Helen and Evelyn looked at each other. “Sort of,” Evelyn said. “Can we trust you?”
“Do you have a choice?” Josie responded. “I’ve already seen it.”
Evelyn gave her an assessing look. “Fine. Let’s go talk.”
The three women trooped out to the front room. Josie sat down on one of the plastic-covered chairs, which gave off a little puff of air as she did so. Evelyn followed suit, choosing the couch.
“Cream and sugar in your coffee?” Helen called out from the kitchenette. “Never mind. I’ll just bring a tray, and you can fix it yourself.” She reappeared a moment later and set the tray on the coffee table. There were real china cups and saucers, as well as the cookies on a platter. Helen sat down on the chair opposite Josie and reached for a cup.
Josie didn’t know what to say. She wondered briefly if she were a guest at the Mad Hatter’s tea party.
Evelyn poured herself a cup of coffee, then began. “I suppose you’re wondering what all this is.” She swept her free hand around the room. “Helen owns this building.”
“Hasn’t been rented in years,” Helen said, through a mouthful of cookie. “I’ve been using it as a tax write-off.”
Josie butted in. “Where did you get all this equipment? It must have cost a fortune.” Her suspicions resurfaced. Did these two need money to keep this little operation going, whatever this little operation was? And were they looking at Eb as the banker?
“Spygrannies.com,” Helen said, looking pleased with herself. “You can buy anything on the Internet, including used surveillance equipment.”
Josie was at a loss for words. Whatever she had imagined was going on in this third-floor apartment, senior ladies playing with spy gadgets had not even been on the radar. “So what—or whom—are you spying on?” she finally managed.
Evelyn and Helen exchanged a look. “If we tell you, you are sworn to absolute secrecy.”
“I can’t make that promise. If you’re doing something dangerous, or illegal, I’ll have to report it.”
Evelyn sighed.
“You might as well tell her,” Helen said. “She’s already discovered us. If she wants to rat us out, we can’t stop her.”
“I suppose you’re right.” But Evelyn didn’t look happy. “We’re spying on Diantha.”
“Not just Diantha,” Helen piped in. “Courtney too.”
Whatever Josie had expected, this wasn’t it. “But why?”
Evelyn said, “Do you mean other than the fact that Diantha’s uppity and thinks she can run the Charity Knitters—and the whole town of Dorset Falls—the way she likes? We thought if we could catch her doing something illegal, or at least unsavory, we could blackmail her with it and get her to step down from the Charity Knitters presidency.”
“And from the town council,” Helen added.
These ladies were probably breaking all kinds of laws. But Josie wouldn’t exactly be against seeing Diantha taken down a peg or two. “Have you found anything?”
Evelyn frowned. “Unfortunately, no. So we moved on to Courtney. Diantha’s so concerned with appearances, if we could dig up some kind of dirt on Courtney, and hold it over Diantha’s head, it would be just as good.”
“We think Courtney’s having an affair with Rusty,” Helen said. “But we can’t prove it yet. That’s why we put surveillance in the car repair shop.”
“Cora set it up while I distracted Rusty.” Evelyn nibbled at a cookie.
“Cora?” Of course Cora had been involved. Otherwise she wouldn’t have had a key to this . . . inner sanctum.
“Well, Cora was president of the Charity Knitters. So for her it was just about getting Diantha to resign from the town council.” Evelyn sipped at her coffee, then set the cup down in its saucer. “She died before we had enough data to confront Diantha.”
“So now you’re carrying on without Cora?” Josie said. Cora would be pleased, Josie assumed.
“Honestly, we’re having some problems.” Evelyn’s face lit up. “I know! Since you’ve found us out, maybe you can help.”
Whoa. As much as Josie would like to see Diantha deposed, and her little daughter-in-law too, this operation was out of her comfort zone. “I’d like to help, but—”
“Wonderful!” Evelyn actually clapped her hands. “Cora was our tech goddess. If she had been in the movies, she’d have been the character who hacks into the government’s computers. I’ll bet you’ve got the same skills.”
“Evelyn, Helen, I know enough about computers to get by. But I’m no expert.”
“Well, you know more than we do. We put tracking devices on Diantha’s and Courtney’s cars, but we don’t know how to get the data off them.”
Tracking devices? Good grief. Josie was definitely down the rabbit hole.
Helen jumped up with alacrity and came back with a thick booklet, which she handed to Josie. “The instruction manual,” she said. “Just read this.”
Um, yeah. Josie would get right on that. Because she didn’t know what else to do, she took the manual and tucked it into her tote bag. Her fingers touched metal, and Josie pulled out the travel mug, which she set on the coffee table. “I wanted to return this to you,” she said.
Evelyn cut her eyes to Josie. “Very good. An excellent excuse for following me up to the Lair.” She turned to Helen. “You know something? I’m glad Josie found us. She’ll make a great member of the team.”
Helen nodded. “I believe you’re right. Go ahead and keep the keys. You can come up here whenever you like. And,” she added, “the sooner you figure out how to get the information off the tracking devices, the better.”
Josie smiled ruefully. “You know I won’t be here much longer, right?”
“You’re here for at least a few more days, right? So you can help us while you’re still in town.”
Sure. Even if she did agree to apply her less than stellar computer skills to this little enterprise, would she be doing anything illegal? She wasn’t actually doing the surveilling herself. But that was probably splitting hairs. The end result was the same.
“I’ll try,” Josie finally said, after taking a sip of the coffee, which was very strong. These ladies could hold their caffeine. Or maybe they needed to keep themselves awake while they surveilled Diantha and Courtney. “Oh, I have something for you. I bagged up the yarn from Cora’s office at the farmhouse. It’s in the trunk of my car. You two can divide it up.”
Helen leaned forward, the yarn lust glittering in her eyes. Evelyn smiled, then looked at Helen. “That’ll be some prime stuff. I know what Cora had at home.”
A lightbulb seemed to materialize over Helen’s pale blond head. “I know! Why don’t we bring it up here and sort it out? Then we can leave some here to use while we’re . . . working.”
“Excellent idea,” Evelyn said. “Shall we go get it?”
The members of the Charity Knitters did not waste time when yarn was at stake.
“Aren’t you afraid someone will see you?” If Josie had noticed these two coming and going from this building, other people would too.
“Well,” Helen said, “we have a cover story. If anybody sees us and mentions it—not that anyone has yet—we’ll say that we’re taking care of the cat I have living up here to keep the mice out of the building. Every once in a while one of us brings up a bag of cat litter or food, just in case someone’s watching.”
Josie chuckled. “Is there a cat?”
Evelyn shook her head. “But we really are thinking of getting one. We spend a lot of time here, and it would be nice to have a pet.”
“Now,” Helen said. “Why don’t you bring your car around to the back, and we’ll relieve you of the burden of Cora’s yarn.”
Josie descended the stairs, opened the front door gingerly, and looked both ways down Main Street. The coast seemed clear, so she closed the door behind her and went across the street to her car. She drove it around to the alley behind Helen’s building and parked it. She hoped Evelyn wouldn’t need to make a quick getaway, because Josie’s car was blocking her in.
Josie popped open the trunk. The three bags of yarn would require two trips up two flights of stairs. Helen and Evelyn had not offered to help. Well, Josie thought, she was thirty-five years younger than these ladies, and the exercise would do her good.
She pulled two bags out and set them on the ground as she closed the trunk lid. She picked them up again and started her trek up the garishly lit stairwell. Josie squinted at the bright light. There was no consistency in this town. Either the stairs were dim and cobwebby, or blindingly brilliant.
By the time she reached the second-floor landing, her breath was ragged and a painful stitch lanced her side. Seriously? How out of shape was she? Once she got back to New York, it was back to healthier eating and the gym. No more Yankee food. She set the bags down, stretched her cramped fingers, and picked the bags up in a better grip to continue her trek to the Lair.
Were Evelyn and Helen telling the truth about what they were actually doing in this not-so-abandoned building? And had Cora really been involved? The story had the ring of truth to it. Josie drew a deep breath as she dragged the bags up the last few steps, hoping the plastic wouldn’t rupture, but her arms were too tired to lift the bags any higher. She liked Evelyn. Helen, too. She hoped their story was true. And that they weren’t going to get themselves into a whole heap of trouble.
A shuffling noise came from behind the door to number four, and Helen opened it. Her eyes fell on one plastic bag, stuffed full, then moved on to the other. “I’ll take those,” she said, and reached out. The older woman had the moderately heavy bags inside the door in an instant. “Is there more?”
“One more bag. I’ll go get it, then I should be on my way. I need to get back to the farm.” Helen closed the door unceremoniously.
Josie returned to her car and brought up the last bag, less winded this time. There was no welcoming committee, so she tried the knob with her free hand. It turned easily, and the door swung open.
Evelyn and Helen had dumped the contents of both bags of yarn all over the couch and the small dining table. Their hands flew through the skeins of yarn, touching and sorting. “Ahem.” Josie cleared her throat. The ladies didn’t look up until she said, louder, “Evelyn? Helen?”
Evelyn looked up, her eyes glassy with yarn lust. Her gaze fell on the third sack. “Just bring that over here, will you, and dump it on the couch with the rest? We’ll go through it. And thanks,” she added, gratitude clearly an afterthought.
Josie couldn’t fault her. She got the same feeling about handbags and designer clothes.
She left the two ladies singlemindedly pawing through the piles. They didn’t seem to notice when she opened the door and shut it behind her.
Fifteen minutes later, her car rolled to a stop. She inhaled with a whoosh when she saw a strange truck in Eb’s driveway, then let it out when Mitch appeared on the front steps. He raised his hand in a wave as she parked and met him on the porch.
“Sorry,” he said. “I hope I didn’t scare you. I’ve got my grandfather’s truck this afternoon. Needed to go to the feed store, and we can fit more in the truck than in my SUV.”
“Nope, not scared,” she fibbed.
“I didn’t know what time you were getting back, so I came over to take care of the animals. Hope you don’t mind, but I found some of Lorna’s meatloaf in the fridge, and I helped myself. There’s some left,” he said, sheepish.
“That’s fine. I’m not very hungry. I’ll probably just have a bowl of cereal later.”
They stepped inside the house, which for once was not blazing hot. Mitch, it seemed, had a way with woodstoves as well as a way with pets, livestock, and old men. Probably women too, though he’d never mentioned a girlfriend. But if the nurses at the hospital were any indication, he charmed everyone and everything.
“Josie,” he began, then faltered. He picked up his dirty plate and silverware from the dining room table and stood there.
“What is it?” She flipped through Eb’s mail, which sat on a corner of the table.
“Don’t take this the wrong way. But even if the police are about to make an arrest, it’s still not made. And I still don’t want you staying out here alone. I was thinking I should stay here tonight. On the couch,” he added quickly.
Awkward. She barely knew Mitch Woodruff. Her New York sensibilities flashed Bad Idea like an illuminated billboard across her mind. But Mitch had proven himself nothing but trustworthy over the last few days. And it was a bad idea to stay alone. She supposed Evelyn would offer her a place to stay again tonight. But for some reason, she wanted to stay in the room upstairs. Sleep under the quilt and flannel sheets with Coco curled up on her feet so she couldn’t move without disturbing her. After just a few days, the little bedroom she’d commandeered felt like hers.
And would she feel more comfortable with or without Mitch downstairs?
More comfortable with, definitely.
“I’d like that,” she finally said. “And thanks.”
His face relaxed into a smile. This self-assured farmer had been nervous about suggesting the innocent arrangement. It was kind of cute.
“Oh, I meant to tell you. I took a phone message earlier. I put it on the fridge under the Dorset Falls Volunteer Fire Department magnet.”
A landline phone message? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten one of those. “I suppose I’d better go see who it is.”
“It was from Denise Burke’s office. She’s a lawyer a couple of towns over.”
Josie frowned. “A lawyer? Oh! Maybe it’s Cora’s estate lawyer. My mother’s really handling everything for Eb, but I suppose I should return the call. Not that there’s probably anything I can do.” She glanced down at her watch. “It’s just before five. I’ll give her a call now.”
Mitch went to the kitchen and retrieved the message. He read off the numbers as Josie punched them into her phone, then set the message on the table and excused himself. “I’ll go let Jethro out,” he said, and left her in privacy.
When Josie identified herself, the receptionist stated that Attorney Burke had left for the day. “Would you like to speak to her assistant? She’s still here for a few more minutes.”
“Sure.” If Denise Burke’s assistant was like most assistants in Josie’s acquaintance, she would know as much as her boss.
“I’ll patch you through.”
Two clicks sounded on the line before the assistant picked up. “Sue Davis,” she said in a no-nonsense, professional tone of voice.
“Hi, Ms. Davis. This is Josie Blair. Attorney Burke left a message at Eben Lloyd’s home.”
“Ms. Blair . . . oh yes. Your mother and your great-uncle have authorized us to communicate with you. The attorney wanted to let you know that she’s completed her research on the lawsuit we were preparing for Cora before her death. Unfortunately, her heirs do not have standing to continue the suit on her behalf. So we are not going to be able to file the complaint.”
Lawsuit? What type of lawsuit could Cora have been involved in?
“I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the lawsuit. My mother and my uncle didn’t mention it to me, and neither of them is available at the moment. Could you tell me what it was about?”
Josie heard the faint clicking of a keyboard on the other end of the line. “Mrs. Lloyd brought a lawsuit against Tristan Humphries III.”
“Trey?” Why would Cora be suing Trey? “What kind of suit?”
“She brought the suit in her capacity as a member of the Dorset Falls Historic Preservation Commission. Her intent was to stop the demolition of 13 Main Street.”