Chapter Twenty-two

 

James drove as quickly as he dared. Where could his father be? He hadn’t had another stroke, had he? James pictured his father lying in a hospital bed somewhere, the doctors and nurses unable to reach Milla because Jackson didn’t have any identification on him. Worse, what if he’d gotten confused and wandered off somewhere? No, Milla had said he’d taken the truck. He wasn’t on foot in the elements. Maybe he should call Lucy.

By the time James pulled into the driveway and parked next to Milla’s Quincy’s Whimsies van, he’d worked himself into a state of panic. Telling himself it wouldn’t do Milla any good to see him like this, he relaxed his expression and knocked on the door.

Milla answered him almost instantly. “I heard your truck. Come in out of the cold. I’ve got all of your boxes of Valentine’s chocolate on the kitchen table.”

“Thank you,” he said, wrapping her in a warm hug. “Now, where do you think Pop took himself?”

“James, I’m so worried. This isn’t like Jackson. I don’t know what to do. Should we call someone?”

“Let’s think. Is it possible he went out for more art supplies?”

“I checked the shed. He has plenty. And he’s been gone all afternoon. He left after grumbling about how I wouldn’t fix him French fries with his hamburger. I made some nice sweet potato wedges, but he wasn’t too happy with those. Then I had to go to Quincy’s Whimsies for a couple of hours. When I came home, he still wasn’t back.”

“Did you check for a note? Does he usually leave you a note if he’s going somewhere?”

“He does, but there’s none. I can look again, though. Maybe I’m overreacting.”

At that moment, the kitchen door opened. Jackson’s back was to them. He seemed to be trying to haul something into the house. “Come on, now, it’s okay. You’ll love it here.”

“Pop! What’s going on? Where’ve you been?” James said.

Jackson bent down and picked up whatever it was he was trying to get into the house. When he turned around, James and Milla saw that, cuddled tightly in Jackson’s arms, was a full-grown reddish-colored corgi. The dog looked around with frightened eyes.

Milla gasped and put her hands to her cheeks. “Jackson! Who is this?”

Jackson grinned. “You’d better learn how to curtsy because this here is Queen Elizabeth. And she’s all yours.”

Milla slowly stepped forward, her face a picture of delight. “Hello, Your Majesty. May I call you Elizabeth? Or would you prefer Queen?”

The dog whined and Milla let her sniff her hand. Then she petted her and the dog’s short tailed wiggled back and forth. Milla said, “Dear, where did you get her?”

“That friend of James’s, the one with the red hair and all the bracelets. Gillian, that’s her name. Runs that dog grooming place.” Jackson gently put the dog on the floor while Milla rushed to get a bowl and fill it with water. “I know you miss Prince Charles, Milla, and I know I’ve been a bear lately. I wanted to do something for you.”

“I can’t think of a better gift.” Milla coaxed Queen Elizabeth to the water bowl. The dog gave it a good sniff before drinking thirstily. “How old is she?”

“The lady at the rescue center over in Charlottesville, that’s where Gillian sent me, says she’s only two years old. They said she belonged to breeders who wanted her to have pups. When she couldn’t, the breeders took her to the pound. A woman there called the corgi rescue lady and they picked her up. They’ve been calling her Queen Elizabeth, so you might have to stick to that.”

“Poor little dear! I’m already in love with her. Thank you, Jackson,” Milla said and started to cry. She sat down on the floor and called softly to the dog, who came to her shyly. Milla spoke to her in a quiet tone while stroking her fur.

James got a tissue from the box on the kitchen counter and handed it to Milla. He turned to his father. “You done good, Pop.”

Jackson squeezed his shoulder. “So have you, son. I’m proud of the way you’re taking care of your family. Can’t wait for the new little one to come. You’re a good father. That’s what counts. Not being forty pounds overweight.”

“Thirty-five,” James said, feeling the sting of tears behind his eyes. Only rarely did his father show him any sort of physical affection, such as squeezing his shoulder. And for him to praise his parenting abilities! James felt as if he could fly. He cleared his throat and managed to say, “Thanks, Pop.”

“I need to get Queen Elizabeth some food,” Milla said.

“Don’t worry. The rescue lady gave me a bag. It’s out in the truck,” Jackson said. “I’ll get it while you show the Queen around.”

Milla kept an eye on the dog while she washed her hands. Then she handed James three heart-shaped boxes. Each one was red satin. The top one had beautiful gold hand-lettering that read “To Jane, Love, James.” James put it down and looked at the other two. One simply said, “Fern” and the other “Willow.” “Milla, these are more than I expected. I’m sure they’ll be well-received. Thank you.”

“No trouble, dear,” Milla said, watching the Queen.

James smiled. “I’d better go help Pop.”

“Thank you for coming over,” Milla said as she trailed after the corgi into the den.

James walked outside. “You need help with that dog food bag, Pop?” James asked, loading the boxes of chocolates into the Bronco.

“I’ve got it. Jane doing all right?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t forget now, anytime day or night, when the little one is ready to come, you bring Eliot over. If it’s at night, we can come to your house.” He lifted the bag of dog food.

“Thanks, Pop. We’ve got another two weeks.”

James waited to be sure his father made it into the house, then he climbed into the Bronco. As he was about to close the driver’s door, he heard the hound next door let loose a long, loud howl. James looked at the sky. Clear as a bell. “Probably howling because he knows his new neighbor is royalty,” James said to himself and chuckled.

He drove back to the library and gave the Fitzgerald twins the Valentine’s boxes.

“Personalized and everything,” Scott said. “Fern likes monogrammed stuff.”

Francis lifted the lid of one box. “Wow, these chocolates smell delicious.”

“Don’t start on them without Willow,” James warned.

With both the twins pleased with the gifts for their Valentines, they locked up the library and headed home.

James called Lucy before he started out. “Are you at home? If so, I’ll come by for a minute and drop off Kitty’s ring.”

“Come on over. I’ll put the dogs out back,” Lucy said.

James felt relieved. Lucy had three German shepherds. Being a fan of eighties music, she had named them Benatar, Bono, and Bon Jovi. Whatever their musical connections, James tried to steer clear of the big animals and their sharp teeth.

A few minutes later, he pulled into the driveway of Lucy’s clapboard house, noting Lucy’s patrol car, not her Jeep, was parked out front. As he walked up the brick walkway, he heard the dogs barking wildly and reminded himself there was a chain-link fence between him and them.

Lucy still had her deputy’s uniform on. “I came home about fifteen minutes ago to take care of the dogs and grab a bite to eat. I’m on call. Come in.”

“I can’t stay too long,” James said, standing in the foyer. “I’ve got to get home to Jane.” He pulled the plastic bag containing Kitty’s ring from his pocket.

“Let me guess,” Lucy said. “It’s not a diamond.”

James handed it to her. “Cubic zirconia. How did you know?”

“Pat Hearne, Ray Edwards’s attorney, called me right at five o’clock. She’d received a call from the handwriting expert. The will Kitty had wasn’t written by Edwards. Pat said it wasn’t even a good fake. I’ll return the ring to the evidence room tonight.”

“So Kitty tried to con everyone. Did she really think she could get away with it?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Criminals always think they can get away with their crimes, James, otherwise they wouldn’t commit them. Brandon said that Kitty didn’t want for anything, remember? So I guess this was greed, pure and simple.”

“You told me Murphy said Edwards made her the beneficiary of the corporate life insurance policy, not Kitty. Between that and the ring being fake, I wonder what Kitty’s relationship with Edwards actually was.”

“They were living together in Edwards’s house, according to Pat.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Well, then they were lovers, at least.”

“Possibly. The thing is that Pat told me she never could detect any warmth between them. She said they acted like roommates. Maybe Edwards did love Murphy.”

“But if Kitty was successful, why would she need a roommate?”

Lucy bit her lip. “Good question. I wonder if Kitty owned any property of her own.”

“You’d think she would, being a Realtor.”

“I can find out. Glenn Truett was at the courthouse when I left. He can log into our data information system and find out. He might have already done it,” Lucy mused. “Can you wait a few minutes?”

James nodded.

They walked through to Lucy’s blue and white kitchen. The microwave dinged. Lucy took a frozen lasagna dinner out and placed it on a trivet shaped like a rooster. She looked at James ruefully. “Closest I could get to the Mediterranean diet in a hurry.”

“I had a microwaveable frozen angel hair pasta primavera for lunch. No judgment from me on your lasagna.”

Lucy made the call to her fellow deputy. James watched as she wrote down information on the back of an envelope. “Thanks, Glenn. Yeah, go on home and forward calls to me.”

She disconnected and then picked up her tablet from the kitchen counter. James could hear the dogs at the back door. Lucy said, “I’ve got to let them in before they get cold. But listen to this, James. Truett had pulled Kitty’s property records. Under the name Kathy Richardson, five years ago she bought a million-dollar home in Spring Farm, one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Louisville, if not the wealthiest.”

“But she doesn’t live there?”

“Nope. And Truett says she doesn’t rent it out either. Here it is on Google Maps,” Lucy said, turning the tablet screen so James could see.

James saw an impressive brick home meticulously landscaped with rich green grass, azalea bushes, boxwood hedges, and a small stone fountain in the middle of the long walkway from the street to the double front doors. He squinted at the screen. “That red car in the driveway. It’s a BMW, don’t you think?”

Lucy turned the tablet toward her. “I’d say so. Let me see the satellite image. Wow, there’s an in-ground pool in the back. Can’t tell for sure about the car. But it’s not the one Kitty brought to Cardinal’s Rest. She drove a Lexus.”

James saw the time on Lucy’s oven. “I’ve got to go. We should talk more about this tomorrow. Do you have any objection to me sending out an email to the rest of the supper club members letting them know what we’ve learned?”

Lucy walked him to the door. “No, go ahead.”

His hand on the doorknob, James said, “I assume Sheriff Huckabee let Murphy go.”

Lucy shook her head. “Still holding her.”

“Really? I thought by now he would have had to release her.”

“Not on a possible murder charge, especially since this would be the second one. Her lawyer’s throwing fits, but the sheriff’s arranged for Murphy to go before a judge tomorrow afternoon. It’s likely he’ll rescind bail since she’s a suspect in Kitty Walters’s murder too.”

On the drive home, James tried not to think about Murphy in her jail cell. “Focus, you’ve got to focus,” James told himself. Brandon or Joel? Who had the most to gain from both Edwards’s death and Kitty’s?

It had to be Joel. The baby-faced magazine editor must have had a falling-out with Edwards regarding the Honeybee Heaven Farms Corporation. Once Joel saw how big the development plans were and their potential effect on Quincy’s Gap, not to mention the national attention the scheme had brought, maybe he decided he needed a bigger share. He could have found Edwards, argued with him, then later killed him, knowing that Murphy would be blamed. But how had he gotten into the room? Did he know about the secret passage?

Then there was the handsome heartthrob, Brandon. Seemingly part of the idle rich, or at least well-off enough not to have to worry about money. James remembered that flash of negative emotion that passed between Kitty and Brandon at the reunion when Kitty said she might invest in the corporation. Why would Brandon be angry about that? In fact, James wasn’t convinced when Brandon had said he “couldn’t be bothered” with the investment. Didn’t rich people jump at the chance to increase their wealth? Then James thought about how Brandon claimed not to have known that Kitty had been an actress. While he knew Los Angeles was a big town, and the two might not have been there at the same time, didn’t it stand to reason that Kitty would mention her own acting career when she met both Brandon and Joel since they were actors themselves?

Acting, that’s what those two men were doing when James and Lucy had questioned them.

James pulled into the driveway of the house on Hickory Hill Lane. He cut the engine of the Bronco. His heart swelled when he looked at the glow of lights coming from the windows of the small two-story house. Miss Pickles was silhouetted in an upstairs window, keeping watch over the neighborhood.

Inside, James knew his family was there, waiting for him to come home and complete them. Pop had told him that he was a good father, that he took good care of his family. James prayed it was true. His family was his life, the only thing that ultimately mattered to him. It would be that way forever.

He locked Jane’s infinity necklace in the Bronco’s glove compartment. He’d give it to her tomorrow on Valentine’s Day. But as for the box of candy, James realized too late that he should have left it in his office until tomorrow night. He couldn’t leave the chocolates in the truck to freeze, so he picked up the box and carried it into the house.

“Daddy!” Eliot called as he raced toward James. James quickly stuffed the Valentine’s box under his arm so that he could catch his son. “How was your day, Eliot?” James asked, putting the boy down.

Snickers dashed to the door and barked. James opened it and let the dog out.

“Great! Mrs. Spalding gave us watercolor paints. We made family portraits. Mommy put mine on the refrigerator. Come see!”

“Let me hang up my coat,” James told him.

By the time James had put his winter gear away, he heard Snickers frantically scratching the door and let him in.

He followed Eliot, juggling the Valentine box around his back so he could surprise Jane. She was in the middle of pulling out the skillet pot pie she’d made from the oven. James inhaled the smell of the cheddar biscuits on top of the savory mix of vegetables and spices. Once Jane placed the hot skillet on top of the stove, she turned to him. “Hello there, husband.”

“Eliot, let me say hello to your mother,” James said, disengaging himself from his son.

“That means you want to kiss her,” Eliot pronounced.

James stepped over to his wife and did just that. He noticed she had a hand on her lower back. “Your back hurting, honey?”

“Never mind that. What have you got in your hands?”

“A box of Valentine candy!” Eliot shouted. “Can I have a piece?”

Jane’s eyes shone with laughter.

James brought the box around and handed it to her. “I can’t get anything past the two of you. Happy Valentine’s Day one day early.”

“How lovely, James. Is that Milla’s handiwork?”

“Yes.”

“That means these will be the best Valentine’s chocolates I’ve ever had,” Jane said. “Thank you. I have something for you, but you have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Come on, Daddy! Look at my picture.”

James stood in front of the fridge with Jane behind him. Eliot’s painting featured himself, James, Jane, a small round glob that Eliot said was the baby, Snickers, and Miss Pickles. The backdrop showed the yellow house under a large orange sun.

“I’m bigger than you,” Jane whispered in his ear.

“That’s because you’re pregnant,” James whispered back.

They both praised Eliot for his artwork, James even saying that the picture was good enough to be framed.

When they’d all but declared their son to be another Rembrandt, Jane asked him to set the table.

While she prepared plates for each of them, James switched on the small television. “Oh, boy, here he is,” James said, turning up the volume.

“This is a special report from WSHN and Jim Topling, meteorologist.” The aggravating man came on the screen, a map of the East Coast behind him. “Neighbors, what have I been telling you? This storm is a devious gal. She’s played another trick on us.”

“More like, you can’t predict the weather,” James said.

“That’s right,” Topling continued, almost as if he confirmed James’s statement, “our snowpocalypse is hovering over Pennsylvania, dumping the area with over fourteen inches of snow so far. The lady can’t make up her mind when she’ll visit the Shenandoah Valley, but trust me when I say she’ll be here soon bringing blizzard-like conditions to our entire viewing area. Meanwhile, gents, it looks like you don’t have an excuse not to take your lady out for Valentine’s Day. Our area will be clear with no chance of snow again until Thursday. Stay tuned for more updates!”

“It annoys me no end that he calls this storm a woman,” Jane said.

James switched the television off.

After they’d eaten, they each had a piece of chocolate from Jane’s Valentine’s box. Milla had provided a handwritten guide to what was inside the chocolates. Jane selected an orange truffle while James picked an Amaretto truffle. Eliot had the caramel. Then James and Jane cleaned up the kitchen, put Eliot to bed, and read to him until he fell asleep.

James changed into his pajamas. Seeing Jane was not in their bedroom, he went downstairs, where he saw her putting dry food out for the dog and cat. When she straightened, her hand went to her lower back again.

“Honey, let’s get in bed so I can rub your back for you.”

“If I can make it up the stairs. I feel like a whale.”

Whales made James think of dolphins. Once he and Jane were snuggled in bed, James poured some almond-scented lotion into his hand and began massaging Jane’s lower back. He thought of asking her if she wanted a push present, then decided this wasn’t the time. He told her of his trip to the jewelry store, leaving out the part where he bought her the infinity necklace and describing the dolphin ring Bennett bought Gillian.

“That’s the type of ring I’d think Gillian would love. What made Bennett decide to finally propose?”

James hesitated, unwilling to tell Jane the tragic story of Uncle Abe when he was trying to relax her so she could sleep. “Bennett told me that he realized he was being a coward. He shared a story from his boyhood. I’ll tell you about it another time, okay?”

“M’kay,” Jane mumbled.

James soon heard her even breathing and knew she’d fallen asleep. He felt himself unwind and relaxed back to his side of the bed, his head sinking into his pillow. He thought he should lean over and select a book to read from the towering “To Be Read” pile next to his nightstand, but he was so warm and comfortable he couldn’t move.

His mind drifted back to Bennett and then to Uncle Abe and his camping trips. James could picture little Bennett running around the campfire, playing with his friends, then scared by his uncle’s ghost tales.

Suddenly, an image of another campfire presented itself in James’s mind. A young Brandon as Joshie, looking sulky and poking a campfire. The special episode of Hearth and Home that Brandon had shot on location at the Richardsons’ summer house, Fairbridge. The episode that had been shown again at the reunion. Joy had pointed it out to him with reverence.

His eyes snapped open.

Moving slowly so he wouldn’t disturb Jane, James reached for his cell phone. He hated using the Internet on his phone, feeling the screen was too small. With a few passes through Google, though, James had his answer. That episode of Hearth and Home had been shot in mid-October, at the same time Kathy Richardson’s father had sent her out to Fairbridge, in the same year. Kathy Richardson and Brandon Jenson had met all those years ago, James was sure of it.

He’d caught Brandon Jensen in a lie.

James’s mind raced with possibilities. Had Brandon been the one Kathy had run away with to Los Angeles? It certainly made sense. Had he been the one to get her started in acting? Had they been lovers?

James thought about calling Lucy, then hesitated. No matter how quietly he slipped out of bed, he ran the risk of waking Jane. Besides, he wanted to enlist the Fitzgerald twins’ wizard-like abilities on the Internet to see what else he could find, then put all the information to Lucy. Maybe Lucy would give it to the judge tomorrow and he’d decide not to rescind Murphy’s bail.

With this plan in mind, James fell asleep.