Twenty

“Do you mind parking by Harold’s Hotdogs? I’ve been cooped up since last Monday. I’m having a good day today and would love to stretch my legs some.”

“Are you sure? It’s raining.” I was surprised she was having a good day. Helen had arthritis in her hips and the dampness in the air usually set it off, coupled with a wet sidewalk, it would be harder for her to walk.

“I know the weather, and I know my body. I need to stretch out my muscles and joints or I’ll never be able to use them.” There was a tenseness in her voice I never heard from her.

She was an adult and could make health decisions for herself, plus I was sure she didn’t want to be reminded about her precarious health situation. She had been diagnosed with breast cancer a year ago and had been in remission though the last mammogram had a hot spot. As Samuel and I divorced soon after her last appointment, I hadn’t heard if it was nothing or if the cancer had returned. If she wanted me to know about her health, she’d tell me.

“I’m sorry.” I pulled into a space right in front of Harold’s. “I was out of line.”

“Don’t you fret. The last few days have been trying for both of us. I’ll just head over to the bank then the post office. I’ll meet you back here.” She grinned at me. “After I stop at Harold’s for a corn dog. I have a hankering for something fried even if it’s not good for me. Want one?”

“Sure.” I had meant to decline as Christmas cookie season was about to start, but the impish look in her pale blue eyes had me wanting to throw food caution to the side. “I’m going to head over to the bookstore. Rachel usually places an order for a Christmas sign depending upon her theme.”

“While you’re there, you can ask if Cassie is scheduled to work this week. If the girl doesn’t come see me, Grandma will come to her.” Helen centered a knowing look on me and exited the car, the bright red envelopes of her Christmas cards sticking out from her purse. She knew I hadn’t planned just to go see about business. I was also checking on Cassie.

I headed toward One More Page, the bookstore owned by my friend Rachel Abbott. The store was in the middle of Main Avenue, making it the perfect location viewing of the annual Christmas Parade. It was why her window decoration sign was important to her. She knew a lot of people would see it and she wanted to draw them in. Rachel had a standing order for every Christmas, and I always made it right after the Morgantown Holiday Bazaar as she knew I was swamped making products for the show.

The doorbell buzzed as I entered the store.

“Welcome to One More Page,” a voice echoed from the back.

For the most part, Rachel was a one-woman show. She made enough to stay afloat but not to hire more than one part-time worker, two times a week. Cassie’s love of reading and frequent visiting of the bookstore got her the job.

“It’s Merry. Stopping by for ideas for your window sign.”

“Great! I’ll be out in a few, placing an order for a new book that the internet is buzzing about. Want to get it in before the parade. I hope it makes it here in two weeks.”

“Wishing you tons of customers.” I walked over to the window and studied it. So far, it was a blank canvas, nothing to indicate the theme Rachel wanted. She usually had a few items on the large sill…books, stuffed animal, trinkets.

“Santa.” Rachel’s voice carried over to me. “It’s all I got right now.”

Not as elaborate as her usual themes. It was easier to work with, which was good since my current life focus was figuring out a better murder suspect than me. I turned slowly, mapping out each area of the store in my head. Santa. North Pole was done at the craft show. We could narrow it down to one part of the North Pole.

“Santa’s workshop,” I said as Rachel entered the store area.

She grinned. “I was thinking more along the lines of Santa’s office. For the front window, I’d like a naughty and nice list, the nice side I’d have names of residents, and the naughty will be well-known book villains.”

Brilliant and easy. “I can have that done by the beginning of next week.”

“Great. I’ll send you the names.” Rachel trailed off, her smile hinting there was something she wanted me to know but was above gossip.

I considered Rachel a good friend and enjoyed her company. The one aspect of her personality that annoyed me was her insistence she wasn’t a gossip yet told everyone what she knew…once you inquired about it. She felt she wasn’t gossiping if she didn’t bring up the topic. I guessed she wanted to tell me something related to Samuel. It was currently the most gossip worthy topic in Season’s Greetings. I’d venture into the subject by asking about Cassie.

“How has Cassie been? She’s a little angry with me so I haven’t wanted to call her since her father died.”

Rachel heaved out a sigh. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about Cassie.”

What had Cassie been saying about me to Rachel? “Has she done something that worries you?”

“I haven’t seen her since Samuel died. I left a message that I’d hold her job until she felt up to coming in.”

“That’s nice—”

Rachel held up a hand, silencing me. “On Thursday, a woman was talking to Cassie. It seemed like an intense conversation. Cassie seemed really upset. I walked over, and the woman left. I caught a bit of their conversation. The woman mentioned something about selling a vehicle.”

Maybe I hadn’t been the first one Cassie asked to buy the RV. “Who was she?”

“I hadn’t seen her around town before. Cassie seems to know her. I saw them in front of Milton’s office this morning.”

My divorce attorney. Why?

  

After returning home from dropping off Helen, I called Milton. The message went straight to voicemail. The man was still hunting. Maybe the woman with Cassie needed an attorney, or Cassie was so distraught over something that the woman walked with her to Milton’s office, doing a kindness for the girl. Milton and Samuel had been good friends for a while until they had a falling out awhile back, one Samuel refused to talk about. Cassie had talked about the fishing trips her and her dad had gone on with Milton when she was little. The teen was probably still fond of him, and it wasn’t a surprise she’d want to see Milton after her dad died. It was likely Samuel had Milton draw up a will, or Cassie was checking to see if Milton knew about a will.

But who was the woman? And old friend of Samuel’s? Could she be the person no longer in the photo album? Or Lynne?

I spread the photo albums on my workspace and booted up my computer. The pictures seemed to be from when Samuel was in college at WVU in Morgantown. It was a large school. I flipped through the album again, trying to find another familiar face among the pages. Since Season’s Greetings was within two hours of WVU, a lot of graduating seniors attended the large university. Was the missing photo a picture of a local resident?

I couldn’t remember Samuel mentioning who he hung out with at college. He had so many friends on Facebook, it would take a long time to narrow down which ones were from his college days, and the detective might be monitoring the page.

Cassie would know. Did I want to drag a teenager into this mess? If Samuel wasn’t the one who ripped out the pictures, then it was tied to his murder. I couldn’t bring her into this. I wanted her safe.

There was a number one in a blue circle on the corner of the icon for my messenger app. It was a message from Gary Meadows.

I don’t usually friend strangers, but a pretty woman in Christmas attire catches my interest. Not to mention the seasonal name. Merry Winters. Decided you were worth a risk.

I wasn’t quite sure he was, but I had no choice. Or so, I told myself. I saw your message to Samuel Waters and was wondering how you knew him.

How is that your concern?

He was my ex-husband.

I watched the messages. No response. My heart thudded. Was this a spy for Detective Grayson? Brett had warned me about the possibility. Would they come beating down my door any minute? Nothing I typed sounded sinister or like a confession. I read what I wrote. Nope. All sounded innocent.

You are that Merry Winters.

What did Samuel say about me?

You were a stickler for rules. He should’ve given you what you wanted when you asked for it. Wondered if it was too late.

Yes, I responded back quickly.

I guess he got what he deserved.

My fingers flew over the keys; tap, tap, tap, the clicks coming fast and furious. That’s a horrible thing to say about a person. He didn’t deserve to be killed.

I wasn’t talking about that. Though the man shouldn’t have been bragging. Not all one thinks or owns should be discussed in public.

He won the lottery. Didn’t he?

There was another long pause before Gary responded back. You didn’t know.

You did. You had warned Samuel about his social media vague bragging.

Yes, Gary wrote. I told him he was setting himself up for a big fall.

How do you know Samuel? He confided a lot to you. Was Gary the person in the photographs? Why did he pop back into Samuel’s life now? Did he live around or in Season’s Greetings?

I waited for an answer, heart racing. I drew in deep breaths to steady my nerves. The longer there was no response, the more I suspected Gary was a ruse—Detective Grayson in disguise. How did I know who Gary Meadows was? Or that he was who he really was? A person could be anyone on the internet.

After an hour of staring at my phone, I accepted the fact that Gary Meadows had nothing further to say.

I ventured onto his Facebook page and it was filled with movie quotes and lyrics. Shares of places to travel, investing, and fishing. Nothing personal at all on his page. Foreboding weighed me down. Gary Meadows was a pretender.

But why?

The troubling thought followed me as I turned off the light and headed to bed. My life was filled with a list of unanswered questions. All of them centered around Samuel’s murder and being accused of it.

Maybe tomorrow, I’d find an answer. Tonight, I was too tired. And truth be told, I was losing hope.