Chapter 23
The rain had barely cleared the next morning, but at least it was reduced to a fine mist. In a quick call at six fifty, Gin and I had agreed that striding in the fog was better than not walking.
“It’s only water, right?” I’d asked.
“Right. And it’s not cold. Let’s do it.”
Now we strode along on our return trip amid poison-ivy leaves dripping moisture beyond the verge of the paved path. Whoever pruned back or mowed the greenery at the edges of the trail did a good job. They didn’t seem to apply pesticides or a blowtorch, which was good, although I wouldn’t want to come in contact with the water on those poison-ivy leaves or the toxic leaves themselves.
So far we’d hashed through everything we knew about the homicide case and the persons of interest in it. Nothing had changed from last night’s group-text thread.
“I can’t believe we don’t know more by now,” I lamented.
“We are amateurs, you know.”
“I’ll say.” I swiped moisture off my forehead, glad I’d put in my contacts before I’d set out. “I gather you didn’t hear back from your daughter?”
“I did hear from her.” Gin slowed and smacked her forehead. “I forgot to tell you. And Lucy reminded me that her yearbooks are still in her room. She has them from all four years she was at Westham High.”
“So, did she go to school with Uly or Edwin?”
“She sure did. They all graduated the same year.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.” Her brows came together, making her look worried.
I waited for her to say more as we approached a gradual curve in the path. Around the bend, a tandem came toward us on the other side of the yellow line in the middle, with two women pushing hard on the pedals and riding fast. This was not a casual morning ride. I took a second look and raised my hand in a wave. If I wasn’t mistaken, that was Yvonne in the front riding with her partner behind.
Gin grabbed my elbow. “Is that Yvonne?” she whispered.
“Yes.” I kept my voice to a murmur. “Which means they haven’t detained her for anything.”
The extra-long bike slowed and braked. Yvonne put her right foot down. The woman on the back frowned but also set her foot on the pavement. Neither wore a helmet, and the short blond hair of the one in back was windblown.
“Morning, you guys,” Yvonne said to us.
“Have you recovered from your shock of Monday morning, Yvonne?” I asked. “That was pretty bad.”
“It was.” Yvonne said. “What’s worse is the police thinking I was involved with the murder.”
“They do?” Gin asked.
Yvonne gave her a suspicious look. “Who are you?”
“Gin Malloy. I own Salty Taffy’s. I think we’ve met before.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. This business has me all off-kilter.”
“How’s the Rusty Anchor owner taking it?” I asked.
“Carl?” Yvonne gave a snort. “He’s all pumped up, as usual. Says any press is good press, which is ridiculous. Who wants to eat in a restaurant where a dead body was left behind the bar?”
No kidding. “Has business been slow?” I asked.
“I’ll say.”
Her partner tapped Yvonne on the shoulder. Yvonne twisted in her seat. The woman spoke in sign language. Yvonne signed back.
To us, Yvonne said, “Sorry. We have to get a move on.”
Both women put feet on pedals and began to move.
“Take care,” I called after them.
“Looks like her partner is deaf,” Gin said after they were underway.
“It does. I hadn’t known.” I kept gazing down the path the way they’d gone. “I think American Sign Language is fascinating. A friend had a deaf sister, and I’ve always wanted to learn ASL.”
“We could take a class together. It’s probably good for anyone to know, especially in retail.”
“Good point,” I said. “Let’s do it. So, what else did Lucy say about Uly and Edwin?”
“She actually was friends with Uly.”
“Didn’t you know about that at the time?”
“I suppose I did. My girl hung out with a group of boys and girls, and the cast of characters was a little bit fluid. I might not have been aware that Uly had rotated into it.”
“Did she have good memories of him?” I asked. “Or bad?”
“Mostly good, I think. But she did mention that the year they had Mr. Byrne, he and Uly were forever getting into it.”
“Like into fights with each other?”
“Well, disagreements,” Gin said. “Not between the two of them, but with their teacher. Uly’s smart, and he challenged Mr. Byrne constantly. Uly got detention more than once for his lip.”
“I guess it’s ever thus. What about Edwin? Did Lucy know him well?”
“She was about to tell me when something came up, and she had to get off the call. I’ll try to get back to her soon.”
“Maybe you and I could sit down and have a look at the yearbooks before too long,” I suggested.
“Good idea.”
We moved on, both literally and figuratively. I confided Tim’s concerns about Jamie to Gin. She’d always been a good sounding board and a compassionate listener. As my wedding attendant, she’d heard all about Jamie reversing her decision to bring the kids to the ceremony. Their absence had crushed Tim and his big, soft heart.
We didn’t solve anything, but unburdening always felt good. And by the time we were finished, the mist had lifted, and the sun was trying to peek out.