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BEATRICE GROANED, LOOKING down at herself. She was still in her robe and slippers and it was ten o’clock in the morning. “Coming!” she said.
She peered out the door and saw Lois Lee there. Beatrice pulled the door open.
“I am so sorry,” said Lois, taking in Beatrice’s robe. “It is too early, isn’t it?”
Beatrice said, dryly, “Believe it or not, I’ve been up since the crack of dawn. I just somehow haven’t found the time to get dressed. Please, come on in and I’ll pull out the punchbowl.”
Lois walked in and Miss Sissy eyed her suspiciously.
“Hi, Miss Sissy,” called Lois in a sweet voice.
Miss Sissy growled at her and turned her attention back to her quilting.
“Sorry about that,” said Beatrice, returning with the bowl. “Miss Sissy had a hard day yesterday.”
“From what I heard, you had a hard day yesterday!” said Lois. “How are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m hanging in there,” said Beatrice. “Although it was pretty awful.”
Lois said in a hushed voice, “Someone told me that you discovered both Pearl and Ophelia.”
“Well, Wyatt and I arrived at Pearl’s house right after Barton had discovered ... her.” Beatrice grimaced.
Lois said, “I feel just terrible about it all. To think that I was having such a quiet day while these horribly violent things were going on.” She shuddered.
“You were at home?” asked Beatrice delicately. Lois was a good friend of Piper’s, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t somehow involved. And Violet had mentioned that Ophelia had compared her to Lois.
“That’s right. I was still being lazy after Piper’s big day. Actually, I was fighting off a bit of a headache,” said Lois ruefully. “I celebrated Piper’s wedding pretty hard. I’ve had sort of a rough time lately—my boyfriend and I broke up recently. A friend gave me a ride back home after the reception. Then I spent the day coming up with lesson plans for this upcoming year. I’m teaching fourth grade for the first time and having to come up with all new material.”
Beatrice said, “I’m so sorry that you’ve had a tough time recently. I hate to have to ask this, but I was speaking with someone yesterday that said that Ophelia might have had some sort of disagreement with you?”
Miss Sissy made grouchy grumbling sound effects from the sofa.
Lois frowned. “Disagreement? Over what? I hardly knew Ophelia, although I was sorry to hear about her death.”
“That’s just the thing—there wasn’t really any clarification. Simply that Ophelia had mentioned you in some sort of negative manner,” said Beatrice.
“Wickedness!” hissed Miss Sissy softly.
Lois flushed. “This person must be mistaken. I didn’t know Ophelia well enough to have any kind of problem with her, or her with me.”
Beatrice said in a soothing voice, “They must have been mistaken then. Do you know of anyone who might have been upset with Ophelia? Wanted to do her harm?”
Lois settled down a little and thought. “Well, there’s Violet, I suppose.” She shifted on her feet.
“Violet?” It had been Violet who’d mentioned Lois and Ophelia.
“That’s right. I don’t know anything specifically about Violet and Ophelia. I only saw Ophelia fussing at Violet downtown recently. And Violet, unfortunately, hasn’t been acting like herself lately,” said Lois.
“In what way?” asked Beatrice.
“Evillll,” commented Miss Sissy from the sofa.
“She just seems rather unstable, that’s all. Emotional. I saw her over at the church in tears,” said Lois.
“What was Violet crying about?” asked Beatrice, startled. There weren’t too many tears at the church. Wyatt always had very upbeat sermons.
“I have no idea. But no one was around her, so I figured that she was simply upset about something. It wasn’t as if she was engaged in an argument. I walked over and asked if everything was okay, and she just nodded and then hurried away,” said Lois. “And there’s more. Violet has some sort of feud going on with Mona.”
Beatrice knew that Mona was another quilter in the Cut-Ups quilting guild along with Violet. “Any ideas what that is about?”
“Something to do with quilting I think,” said Lois with a shrug.
Miss Sissy exploded. “Poppycock!”
Beatrice had to admit that it was tough to think of how two grown women could be quarreling over quilting.
“How about Pearl?” asked Beatrice, ignoring the old woman. “Have you heard of anyone who might have wanted to do her harm?”
Lois shook her head. “This is what’s so baffling to me. Pearl was always so kind to everyone. She helped out at the church. She even volunteered at the school, even though she and Barton didn’t have any children. You know that I used to work for Barton, don’t you?”
“No, I somehow missed that,” said Beatrice. “I thought you’d always been a teacher.”
“I worked for him while I was getting my teaching degree.” Lois lowered her voice again, giving a hesitant look toward Miss Sissy as though the old woman might gossip later on. “No one is saying that Barton had anything to do with Pearl’s death, are they?”
“I’m sure he must be considered a suspect. Spouses always are,” said Beatrice.
“Yes. And Pearl could probably be a handful in some ways. She was always very protective of Barton ... always the attentive wife. She’d fuss around him a lot.” Lois hesitated. “I don’t feel very good about gossiping about the dead.”
Miss Sissy snorted from the sofa.
Beatrice quickly interjected, “I know, but you’re helping me to form a picture of Pearl and Barton and their marriage. I knew Pearl, of course, but not very well and I haven’t lived in Dappled Hills very long.”
Lois nodded and slowly continued, “Anyway, I think that Pearl was a little suffocating as a wife. Barton would sit down and she’d bring him an afghan because she was worried he’d catch a cold. She totally monitored his diet and would remind him at parties that he needed to avoid sugar or carbs or whatever.”
Beatrice made a face. “That wouldn’t be fun to live with—not all the time. If you’re on a diet, that’s one thing. But twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week?” She shook her head.
“That’s exactly what it was like all the time. I even heard her at Piper’s reception, trying to direct Barton to the vegetable platter.” Lois shrugged.
“Do you think that Barton could have murdered his wife simply to get her off of his back?” asked Beatrice.
Lois winced. “No, I really don’t. I’m just worried that’s what other people are going to think. And I’m worried that they’re going to talk and spread gossip and that it’s going to hurt Barton’s run for state office. I can’t picture him doing anything like that.”
Beatrice said, “If Pearl was really protective, I’m surprised that she went along with Barton even running for state office. That would expose him to a lot of stress and general partisan ill-will.”
“I think she was proud of him,” said Lois with a shrug. “And it was something that he really wanted to do. I think he wanted to be in politics at that level since he was a child—it was something that he mentioned to me once.”
Beatrice asked, “Did you notice that Pearl and Ophelia had an argument at the reception?”
“I sure did. That makes me wonder, come to think of it. We know how nosy Ophelia could be, and how she knew everybody’s business. How she made it her business to know everyone else’s business, said Lois slowly.
“What if Pearl was trying to protect Barton again?” asked Beatrice. “Maybe Ophelia found out something that could damage his political run. Perhaps that’s why Pearl was trying to offer her money. Maybe she was trying to pay Ophelia off.”
Lois said, “That does make sense. Ophelia was very upset about Pearl’s offer, too. She didn’t want anyone to think that she was the kind of person who could blackmail someone else. Ophelia seemed to take pride in taking the moral highroad. I think Pearl would most definitely want to prevent any negative information about Barton from leaking out. It’s something to think about. But it doesn’t explain what happened to Pearl.”
Beatrice sighed. “It all seems very complex. Well, at least maybe you can shed some light on something for me. Since you used to work with Barton, what did you think of him as a person? Again, I don’t really know him really well.”
“You mean as a candidate?” asked Lois. “I’m planning on voting for him. I think he’d do a great job; he’s always so organized.”
“Hmph!” said Miss Sissy.
“I’m sure he is. But I meant who he is as a person, not so much as a candidate. You spent some time with him, obviously. What were your impressions of him?” asked Beatrice.
Lois considered this. “He’s a good man. That was my impression. I thought he was very capable. Of course, that doesn’t mean that he was a great husband, but he could have been. Oh, I don’t know. The only reason I brought up Barton is because of the way that Pearl acting around him and because the spouse is always the prime suspect. I don’t want anyone to think that Barton is responsible because I’m sure he isn’t.” She gave a rueful laugh. “I don’t think I would make much of a detective. Good luck trying to make heads or tails of these murders.” She glanced at her watch. “And now I really must be heading out and back to that lesson planning. Any news from Piper, though?”
“Not a word,” said Beatrice with a laugh. “Not that I expected any.”
“At least she’s missing all this mess with Pearl and Ophelia. That would be sort of a downer for a newlywed, especially since they were both at her wedding!” said Lois, walking toward the door. “Bye, Miss Sissy!”
Miss Sissy glowered at her in response.
Lois waved at Beatrice, “See you later.”
“Bye.”
Beatrice walked over to Miss Sissy. The old woman had made terrific strides with the tree skirt, as Beatrice had known she would, despite taking the time to listen in on Lois and Beatrice’s conversation and making sound effects.
“This is looking beautiful, Miss Sissy,” said Beatrice.
“Poppycock,” muttered the old woman.
“Poppycock as in your quilting is beautiful? Or poppycock as in what Lois Lee was telling me?” asked Beatrice.
Miss Sissy buttoned her mouth closed. Beatrice sighed. Miss Sissy was never quiet when Beatrice wanted her to be, and when she finally was silent, it was when she most wanted her to talk.
“All right, well, I’m going to go get ready for my day finally,” said Beatrice. “I’d be horrified if someone else pops over and I’m still in my nightclothes and robe.”
Miss Sissy grunted as she leaned over the tree skirt, as if it was all the same to her what Beatrice wore.
Once Beatrice had showered and dressed and made-up her face, she walked back out into the living room. Miss Sissy was gone and Noo-noo sat by the door as if a testament to the fact that the old woman had left.
Beatrice picked up her phone. It was fine that she’d left, but considering Miss Sissy’s anxiety lately, she decided it would be best to check on her.
Miss Sissy’s phone rang once and then twice. On the third ring, Miss Sissy finally picked up.
“Just making sure everything is all right. You must have found your phone. I didn’t realize that you were leaving,” said Beatrice pointedly.
“Shop is open. Phone was in the sofa cushions,” said Miss Sissy in a careless voice before abruptly hanging up the phone.
Beatrice sighed and then started putting away the tree skirt and the stockings for later.
The rest of the morning was spent on housework and yardwork. With all the people from the congregation dropping by, Beatrice felt that the cottage should be tidier than ever, both inside and out. She was just finishing taking the dishes out of the dishwasher when Wyatt walked into the house for lunch.
He gave her a hug. “How did things go with Miss Sissy?”
“She was back to her annoying self after a while,” said Beatrice with a smile. “She decided at one point to ditch me and head off to the Patchwork Cottage, instead. I must not have provided enough entertainment value.”
“Usually she has so much fun at our house that she doesn’t want to leave. So I guess being boring can be your future strategy,” said Wyatt, grinning back at her. He reached down and patted Noo-noo, who had trotted over to see him. “What do you think about taking a walk?”
The little dog alertly tilted her head to one side and then gave an excited jump.
“Are you asking me or Noo-noo?” teased Beatrice.
“Both of you, if you’re interested.”
“Are you talking about a walk in the neighborhood, or a going-somewhere type of a walk?” asked Beatrice.
“Let’s take a walk down that trail we went on a few weeks ago,” said Wyatt. “The one with the nice view. I’ll make a couple of sandwiches and throw in some drinks and chips.”
“If you take your painting and paints, it might be even better,” said Beatrice. She’d been trying to encourage Wyatt to continue a painting hobby that he’d had for much of his life. She hadn’t known about it for a long time, but now that she did, she tried to get him to paint as much as possible.
“How about if I just bring my sketchpad and pencils this time?” asked Wyatt. “That would be easier than lugging everything with me down the trail. Plus, I don’t have much time before I need to head back to the church office.”
And so they set out. Noo-noo was grinning in the backseat the whole way to the trail.
“It’s funny that more people don’t come here. Not that I want a crowd on the trail,” said Beatrice.
“I think it’s because it doesn’t have quite the spectacular view of some of the other ones,” said Wyatt with a shrug.
The day was a little cooler than the day before, and there was none of the mugginess in the air. Wyatt parked the car and they set out under a canopy of green leaves down a trail that wound off into the thick woods.
“I hope you weren’t planning on getting a ton of exercise. Noo-noo has been in a sniffing-around sort of mood with our walks,” said Beatrice.
“I was more just in the mood to get outside after spending the day in my office,” said Wyatt.
Their walk was quiet enough and slow-paced enough that they saw deer gazing curiously at them before bounding off, their white tails wagging. A wild turkey startled them and set Noo-noo to barking before it took off. They were nearly to the clearing which had a mountain view and a small waterfall when Noo-noo found something particularly interesting to smell off the trail.
Beatrice was watching her when she spotted something farther out. “What’s that out there?”
“Where?” Wyatt squinted into the woods. “Looks like litter of some kind. I’ll pick it up. There are some trash receptacles up ahead, I think.”
But when he reached the litter, he stopped and turned around. “Beatrice,” he said grimly, “I think these are the things stolen from Ophelia’s house.”