The Girard House loomed in front of us as we approached the front door of the former mayor and first lady’s grand home. The same size as any of the others in Victorian Row, it stood out because of its bright pomegranate red exterior and jade green painted trim and shutters. For years, people had whispered behind Mrs. Girard’s back about it, calling the house the Christmas Mess.
Alex looked up at the home and shook his head. “The Girards obviously don’t know the meaning of the word subtle.”
“And they have no sense of what looks good either. I’d guess they spent ten thousand dollars on getting the house painted these awful colors, you know that?” I said in return.
“I guess it shouldn’t surprise anyone. It’s not like that red hair Mrs. Girard wears is in any way natural or appealing. Every time I see it, all I can think of is she looks like a clown. You’d think one of those women she spends so much time with would tell her how bad it looks.”
We stepped up onto the wrap-around porch painted jade green, and Alex rang the doorbell. “You know they talk about her behind her back and make fun of that hair,” I said, feeling a twinge of pity for the former first lady.
“That wouldn’t surprise me since they talk about everyone else in town. What would make any one of them exempt from their gossip?”
I knew how much he disliked meeting with these women, but every so often on a case, they could be helpful because even though neither of us approved of their backbiting and petty gossiping, we couldn’t deny that they seemed to know things others in town didn’t. That probably came from sitting around all day and watching their fellow citizens instead of accomplishing anything on their own.
Clearly, my opinion on the gossip coffee klatch hadn’t sweetened any, despite their overwhelming approval of my life choices with Alex. That they liked my selection of a husband didn’t change the fact that I thought much of what they did in Sunset Ridge hurt people needlessly.
Eileen Matthews answered the door and smiled from behind the screen door that separated us from her. Flipping her mousy brown hair off her shoulder, she said, “This is a surprise. What are you two doing here at the First Lady’s home this morning? Poppy, are you here to get details on the Founders’ Day plans for your article this year?”
I shook my head but didn’t tell Eileen that I didn’t need any more details about the event since it never really changed from year to year and Howard didn’t want anything more than the piece I’d always written. Instead, I gave her question a shrug and said, “Maybe next week. Today, Alex and I would like to speak to you ladies and hopefully benefit from your extensive knowledge of Sunset Ridge.”
In the past three years, Eileen had slowly grown to be as obnoxious as the rest of the biddies in the Founders’ Day Committee, so by now I didn’t see her as any different than them. As disappointing as that was, it did make it easier dealing with them en masse since all I had to do was be ingratiating to the point of being sickening. My pride suffered a little, but whatever I needed to do with them invariably became easier.
Her ego stroked, she eagerly opened the door and welcomed us into the Girard house. In all my time in Sunset Ridge, I’d never been inside their home. Although I had expected the décor to match the outside of the home, even that hadn’t prepared me for how garishly they had decorated the interior.
Everywhere my gaze fell I saw knickknacks. The place looked like a museum for useless junk. A set of tiny figurines of frogs with guitars on lily pads lined the top of a fireplace, as if they were items to be shown off to visitors as they entered the home. Decorative tea cups from the size of a thimble to one that looked like it could be used as an aquarium in a pinch sat around on end tables and shelves, none of them looking like they matched anything else in the room.
And those were just the small things about the room we stood in. The furniture looked to be straight out of the actual Victorian period, but none of the pieces would be truly considered antiques anyone would want. A couch upholstered in a multicolor tapestry depicting what looked like some medieval battle made me cringe at the thought that some misguided soul at some point in time had actually wanted to sit on something that mimicked the Bayeux Tapestry.
Even worse was the reality that the Girards had paid for that piece, probably handsomely, and thought the couch should be displayed so anyone visiting their home would see it.
Nearby, a high backed chair that looked to be in deep blue velvet and came up over the head of the person sitting in it resembled a partial Iron Maiden more than anything else. I had to look away, but everywhere around me existed another decorating tragedy.
Some things went out of style for a reason.
Alex leaned in as we followed Eileen to another room and whispered, “Damn, this place is like a house of horrors.”
A shiver of disgust overtook me, and I simply nodded, not able to say anything in response. House of horrors indeed.
We walked through a doorway to a smaller sitting room decorated just slightly less grotesquely. This room had been painted the exact shade of green used in the felt on pool tables. This gave it the effect of the ten foot high walls closing in on you as soon as you stepped into it.
Definitely not the kind of place I’d want to spend any considerable time. Silently, I prayed the ladies gave us what we needed quickly so we could escape this place in a hurry.
“Ladies, look who came to visit us today,” Eileen announced before taking her seat in an old style burgundy velvet chair with gilded trim that matched the other three her friends sat in around a large wood table with nail heads around the top edge.
Mrs. Scanlon’s grey eyes lit up at the sight of the two of us standing there. “Poppy and Officer Montero! What a wonderful surprise! And so close to your big day. Is everything ready? You know you don’t want to wait until the last minute.”
I felt Alex tense up next to me at hearing yet another person he barely knew interjecting themselves into our wedding plans with their opinion. Happy to take the lead in this part of our visit, I put on my cutest smile for her and said, “Oh, I know it, but everything’s ready. All we need to do is get the two of us to the church.”
Eileen smiled and pointed us to a tan couch that seemed to match nothing in the room and certainly didn’t feel like it fit with anything Victorian. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem then. It’s going to be a lovely wedding, I’m sure.”
We sat down as I heard her say for the second time how sure she was about our wedding plans. Dangerously close to having the old maid moniker tacked onto her, she seemed a little too happy when she spoke about our big day.
I took Alex’s hand in mine and gave it a squeeze. “As long as this guy is there with me, it’s going to be the happiest day of my life,” I cooed.
My almost sickeningly sweet tone made him look at me strangely, but I knew what worked with these women. Eleanor Girard tilted her chin up and gazed down her nose to study the two of us for a moment before adding her own comment about our big day.
“You’ve found a very nice one in him, Poppy,” she said with that pompous air she liked to affect, referring to one of the town’s police officers in a way that made it sound like I’d chosen a good horse.
His fingers squeezed mine in a signal that told me he wanted to get on with our business there and end this discussion of us as a couple and our wedding plans, so I thanked her politely.
“Thank you. I agree, Mrs. Girard.”
The pleasantries finished, Alex jumped right in with his questions. “Ladies, we’re here because we’re investigating the death of Samuel Morrow. I’m sure you’ve heard by now that he was found murdered in his store yesterday morning. We’re hoping you might know something that could help the police find his killer.”
The Widow Dunn made a sound of disapproval and shook her head. “Tsk, tsk. I did hear that, and it’s quite a shame. Samuel Morrow was a proper jeweler and not like those flim flam artists at the malls. He knew the value of a fine piece of jewelry just by looking at it. I can tell you that.”
I couldn’t decide which bothered her—Samuel’s death or the fact that he wouldn’t be around to appraise her jewelry anymore.
“I was so sorry to hear of his death,” Mrs. Scanlon said, shaking her head slowly so her chin length grey hairdo swung in slow motion. “He was the kind of man this town needs.”
Feeling like they needed some egging on, I quickly asked, “Even though he rarely participated in town events?”
The four women nodded in unison, and the former first lady came to his defense. “He worked day and night in that store of his. It wasn’t his responsibility to participate. He did what was expected of him in this town. His wife, on the other hand, the same can’t be said for her.”
And there it was. Our in to get the gossips talking about Eliza Morrow.
The nodding intensified at the mention of Eliza’s lack of real participation in the town’s events. I’d suspected the gossips disapproved of her not giving her all for things like Founders’ Day or the Christmas decorating festival. Now we just had to listen to what they had to say.
“Do you know I saw her last month as she was leaving her house and she didn’t even acknowledge my hello?” the Widow Dunn huffed. “She intentionally avoided me, and I bet I know why. She knows Founders’ Day is right around the corner, and once again, she won’t lift a single finger to help. Oh, we’ll get a check all right, but you won’t see her on Main Street for not one moment of the most important event of the year for Sunset Ridge.”
“She thinks money is enough,” Mrs. Scanlon said in a tone full of disgust and disapproval. “That’s how you know she’s new money.”
Alex glanced over at me at the mention of new money. We both knew once the town gossips trotted out the new money insult that things would soon get vicious.
But I wanted to help them along so we didn’t get stuck listening to them bash Eliza Morrow for the rest of the day, so I said, “She and Samuel had been married for twenty-five years, though. Can that still be considered new money?”
I knew the answer before I even asked the question. Yes, it could be. New money wasn’t determined by time so much as attitude and behavior.
“Oh yes!” the former First Lady said with all the attitude she could muster. “That money was always Samuel’s. She never made one red cent of it. All she ever did was ride around in that silver Mercedes of hers, not even waving hello when she saw any of her fellow citizens.”
Before Alex or I could say a word, Eileen Matthews jumped in and began piling on. “And speaking of her riding around in that car, what is going on with that driver of hers? What is he, like twenty-five? Why would a married woman in her late forties have a man like that driving her everywhere? Doesn’t she know how bad that looks?”
“She doesn’t care,” the Widow Dunn said in her nastiest voice. “I heard there were problems in that marriage, and if that was the case, it’s no wonder. No man who spends hours upon hours slaving away to make a successful business like Morrow’s Jewelers to provide his wife with a house like she has wants to see his wife being driven around with some beef hunk.”
Beef hunk? I didn’t even want to ask her to clarify what she meant by that.
“Beefcake,” Eileen corrected her. “I think he’d be called beefcake.”
The Widow Dunn looked at her and grimaced in disgust before snapping, “I don’t care what he’d be called. It’s not right. Everyone in town knows it too. She looks ridiculous having him drive her around, and it made Samuel look like a fool.”
Alex nudged my knee with his, so I jumped at the chance to get the ladies to talk about more salacious topics related to Eliza Morrow. “Do you really think there’s something between her and her driver?”
One after another, the women nodded and said, “Yes.”
Mrs. Scanlon then added, “I heard that Samuel hired a private detective because he thought something untoward was going on too.”
For the first time since they started bashing Eliza, Alex spoke up. “When, Mrs. Scanlon? Do you know when Samuel was supposed to have hired this person?”
She didn’t answer for a moment and looked surprised to hear him join the conversation, but then she said, “I heard that right around Easter this year.”
“Do you remember who told you that?” he asked, unknowingly breaking the gossips’ code.
Who said it didn’t matter as much as what they said. Well, unless the person gossiping said something that reflected on them personally. Then who was doing the talking meant a great deal. But even then, they didn’t share their sources.
Not even with a policeman they liked.
I quickly worked to repair the damage of Alex’s unfortunate faux pas. “So Samuel actually suspected something was going on with his wife and the driver? Do you think he ever found any evidence to prove it?” I asked eagerly, as if I felt the same way as the four women did about the situation.
Mrs. Scanlon sighed but I thankfully saw my questions distracted her from what Alex had interjected into the conversation. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he did. I mean, look at the way she acts as if that whole Driving Miss Daisy thing she’s doing with that young man isn’t going to make people talk.”
“If I were her husband, I would have been doing some checking up on her. Samuel spent every day working to make that store a success, and what did he get for it? A wife who didn’t understand her responsibilities to him or this town. It just burns me up as someone who’s devoted her life to our beautiful town,” Mrs. Girard preached, surprisingly not going into chapter and verse about all that she’d done as the first lady of Sunset Ridge.
Mrs. Scanlon and Eileen Matthews both patted her arms in solidarity for her tireless efforts to make our town the best it could be. Alex nudged my knee again, and I looked to my right to see his eyes glazing over. Males never understood how these kinds of conversations could go on for so long. I knew he had gotten something he thought he could use and wanted to flee from that room and those women, but I had a sense they might be able to give us something even more.
“It’s such a shame about Samuel. Can you imagine anyone wanting to hurt such a sweet man?” I asked as I frowned and shook my head, mimicking the four women in front of me.
They all agreed that it was terribly shocking, and Eileen Matthews asked, “Did Samuel have any enemies? I have such a hard time imagining anyone wanting to hurt that dear man.”
Her question was met with silence for a few moments, giving Alex the cue that it was time for us to leave, but as he moved to leave, Mrs. Scanlon quietly said, “Not to speak ill of the dead, but I can only imagine how upset Ralph Martin was when Samuel put up that new sign of his that juts out so far that it hides the Martin’s Pharmacy sign. You can’t even see Ralph’s sign when you’re driving up Main Street coming from the south. I’m sure it’s hurt his business.”
Alex sat down again as she spoke, and when she finished, he and I looked at each other wide-eyed. I would have never given a single thought to the idea of hard feelings between Samuel and Ralph Martin over a sign. I had feeling by the look of surprise on Alex’s face that he wouldn’t have either.
“That’s incredible, Mrs. Scanlon,” I said, honestly complimenting her. “I never thought of that, but you’re right. You can’t even see the Martin’s Pharmacy sign when you’re driving up from the police station. I never realized that until right now.”
She beamed at my words but gave credit where it was truly due. “Mr. Scanlon noticed it, actually, and as soon as he pointed it out to me, I said to him, ‘That’s going to cause a problem for poor Ralph Martin’ and he agreed.”
Alex gave me a look that told me he’d heard enough and needed to get out of there before he began to speak his mind. The last thing we needed was the town gossips working against him and his official efforts, so I nodded and stood from the couch when he did.
“We have to go, but thank you so much for all your help, ladies. We appreciate you taking the time to help us today,” Alex said in his best respectful tone.
“Oh, it’s our pleasure,” Mrs. Scanlon cooed, still happy that I’d said such nice things about her ability to see things neither Alex nor I had.
“We all look forward to your reception, you two,” Eileen said as she stood up to escort us out. “I just know it’s going to be a beautiful day.”
“Thank you, Eileen,” I said, suddenly feeling bad for what I thought about her earlier.
She walked us to the front door, and after Alex thanked her again and said goodbye, she took me into her arms in a hug I hadn’t expected. I returned the embrace, surprised at her sudden show of affection. She had always said I was one of her favorite students, though.
Then just before I walked out, she whispered in a low voice, “I was meaning to ask you something, Poppy. I know you probably sat me with the ladies in there, but would it be possible to seat me at another table with other people at the reception? It’s hard, I know, because I’m attending alone, but I’d really appreciate it if you could. I’m okay even if you put me with cousins you don’t even like.”
I nodded and smiled. “I can handle that for you. Are you sure it won’t be a problem with the ladies in there?”
She shrugged at my question. “I’m not worried.”
Maybe Eileen hadn’t changed as much as I thought. Maybe there was hope for her after all. I had a nice middle-aged cousin who had RSVP’d that he was coming to the wedding alone. Perhaps seating her next to him at the reception would be a good thing for both of them.
At the very least, it would be getting her away from the town gossips for a few hours.
The romantic in me liked that idea a lot. It would mean rearranging the tables a little, something I didn’t relish doing just a few weeks out, but for romance, it would be worth it.