A Broth of Betrayal (22 page)

Chapter 33

I
T WAS CLOSE
to three o’clock by the time Lucky and Sophie climbed the stairs to the office of
the
Gazette
. The
Gazette
wasn’t quite a newspaper, more of a local gossip sheet that occasionally carried
news of wider interest. It consisted of an editor, a typist and a reporter, namely
Rowena Nash. Lucky doubted Rowena made much money, if any. Her position was probably
more freelance, if not volunteer, in hopes of building a résumé so she could move
on to greener pastures.

Lucky knocked on the glass window of the door at the top of the stairs. A voice called
out, “Come in.”

Lucky stepped inside with Sophie following. Rowena was seated in front of a computer
monitor. “Lucky! What are you doing here?” She completely ignored Sophie.

“I stopped by to see you. I wanted to ask you something.”

“Well, you’ll have to make it quick. I have to finish this piece.”

“Remember when we met at the dress rehearsal? You mentioned your editor wanted to
run some old town photos with your interview of Richard Rowland,” Lucky prompted.

“Oh, him,” she sneered. “A very unpleasant man. No wonder someone did him in.”

Sophie jabbed her elbow in Lucky’s side. She knew what Sophie was thinking. No matter
how obnoxious Richard Rowland had been, dying in a flaming construction trailer was
extreme punishment for a man who was merely unpleasant.

Sophie cut to the chase. “We’d like to see those pictures.”

“Why?”

“We’re curious.” Sophie smiled insincerely.

Rowena studied Sophie for a long moment. “Well, I don’t have them anymore.”

“What happened to them?”

Rowena heaved a sigh, indicating how valuable her time was. “I returned all that old
junk to the library. I’m sure they’ve filed them away somewhere.”

“Thanks, Rowena,” Lucky said. “We’ll try there.” She pulled Sophie out the door and
headed down the stairs before Sophie could deliver a parting shot. When they reached
the outer door at the foot of the stairs, they heard Rowena’s heels clattering across
the office floor above them.

“Lucky!” Rowena called from the top of the stairs. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. I was just curious and thought they might still be here.”

Rowena’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do you know something I don’t know?”

“Of course not,” Lucky replied innocently. “If I did, I’d tell you. You know that.”
Sophie snickered quietly.

Rowena hesitated. “Okay then.” She turned and stomped back to the office.

Sophie whispered, “Right. Like anything you tell her wouldn’t be in the next edition
of the
Gazette
.”

“Exactly. I’m just satisfying my curiosity about Rowland and why he had such a violent
reaction to those pictures Rowena’s editor wanted to run.”

“Sure you’re not grasping at straws?”

“Nope. Not sure at all. I probably am grasping at straws. But what else can I do?
I want to find Elizabeth, and if I can figure anything out at all, it might help.
Harry’s gone. There’s nothing we can learn from him. Even Pastor Wilson didn’t know
what he had on his mind. Rowland’s been murdered. If there’s a reason Rowland got
so worked up about those pictures, I want to know why. And you cannot tell me that
Elizabeth’s disappearance just happens to be a coincidence. I just pray that wherever
she is, she’s still alive.”

“I wish you luck. Listen . . .” Sophie rummaged in her purse. “Take my car. I promised
Sage I’d help him get some stuff ready for tomorrow. I’ll walk back to the Spoonful
and cover for you.”

“Thanks,” Lucky said, pocketing the keys. “This won’t take long. I’ll be back in a
half hour. Can you let Jack know where I went? Oh,” she said, reaching into her pocket.
“Give Janie her watch.”

“I will. And try not to worry too much in the meantime.” Sophie reached over and enveloped
her in a hug.

“Easier said than done.”

* * * 

L
UCKY CLIMBED THE
stairs to the small cottage that housed the Snowflake Library and town archives.
It sat among tall pine trees at the end of Elm Street, and one could easily imagine
it was exactly as it appeared, a charming family home. The house had been donated
to the town on the condition it be used as a library. Emily Rathbone, a retired teacher
like Elizabeth, was one of several volunteers who served as a librarian. One of Sophie’s
missing flyers was prominently displayed in a window on the front porch, and another
on the glass window of the door. Inside, a small stack stood on a hallway table.

Lucky knocked on the door and entered. The temperature inside was as warm and humid
as the outdoors. Several windows stood open to catch any possible breezes. The house
was old and had never had central air-conditioning installed. Every wall was lined
with bookshelves and filled with books, all organized and catalogued. The center of
each room held a large table with displays of the most current offerings. The living
room of the cottage was devoid of furniture except for a massive oak desk and a cabinet
with many small drawers in which index cards were filed. The librarians also used
an electronic database but were unwilling to eliminate the paper card catalog.

“Hello.” Emily looked up and smiled. “You’re Lucky Jamieson, aren’t you!” she exclaimed.
Emily was tall and thin and wore wire frame glasses similar to Hank Northcross. In
fact, if they stood together they could have been mistaken for brother and sister.
Emily’s hair was long and gray, worn in a loose braid that hung halfway down her back.
She wore several home-crafted beaded necklaces and a brightly colored long skirt paired
with a peasant blouse.

“Yes, I am. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Not formally. I remember you at your parents’ restaurant—before you went off to college.
Can I help you with anything?”

“Actually, you can. I understand from Rowena Nash you had loaned her some old photos
for an interview.”

“Yes. That’s right. She wanted to interview that dreadful man who was building the
car wash. Whatever for, I can’t imagine.” Emily grimaced. “Of course, I wouldn’t have
wished that fate on him, but I’m awfully glad the construction’s halted now—hopefully
permanently. And that terrible business with Harry Hodges. I could hardly believe
it!” She shook her head. “But you’re in luck; I was just getting ready to put them
away. Follow me.”

Emily led Lucky down a hallway that stretched to the rear of the house. She pushed
back a sliding door to reveal a large compartment of shelves, full of storage boxes
all neatly labeled. “The school photos are on this side. Years and years of Snowflake
students. We have all the ‘official’ ones. You know the kind. The entire class and
teacher by grade. No one ever made a determined practice of taking candid shots, but
we do have quite a few.” Emily picked up a batch of photos that sat on a shelf next
to one of the boxes of elementary school photos.

“Let’s bring them out to the light so you can see better.” Emily carried them to a
table by the open front window. A short gust of cool wind blew the curtains back.
Lucky looked out to see dark clouds scudding across the mountaintop.

Emily peered out. “Looks like a thunderstorm on the way. I always close and lock the
cottage at night, but I sometimes forget to shut the windows. I better remember to
do that tonight.”

Lucky picked up the batch of photos and leafed through them. There were shots of young
children playing in the schoolyard and ice-skating on the pond, several photos of
children posing next to classroom art and the last one, three boys on a schoolyard
bench.

“These are the ones I loaned Rowena. Or at least the ones she wanted to take. There
are a lot more in that box if you’d like to see them. What exactly are you looking
for?” Emily asked.

“I don’t really know. Rowena told me Richard Rowland cut his interview short. Apparently,
he changed his mind when Rowena mentioned that the editor planned to run old photos
with his interview. I have nothing to back this up, but I’m suspicious that Elizabeth
Dove’s disappearance might somehow be connected.”

“Oh yes,” Emily gasped. “I was stunned when I heard about it. Poor Elizabeth. Is there
any news?”

Lucky shook her head negatively. Emily’s face fell. “For a moment, I thought . . .
well, never mind. I’ve volunteered time to the searches almost every day since I heard.
This is my first day back to the library. You know, I knew Elizabeth very well years
ago. When we were both teaching. She was my mentor, more or less, when I first came
to Snowflake. She had already been teaching several years when I first arrived. She
was wonderful to me. She took me under her wing. I can’t imagine why anyone would
ever want to hurt her. She’s never harmed a soul.”

“Someone has taken her, Emily. Elizabeth would never voluntarily disappear.” Lucky
leafed through the photos a second time. “I was just hoping that these had something
to do with the developer canceling his interview. At least it sounded that way. For
whatever reason, he didn’t want any pictures appearing in the
Gazette
.”

The last snapshot of the three boys huddled on a school bench caught her eye again.
They sat close together smiling at the camera. One of them had an arm around another
boy’s neck in jest. The boys appeared to be about eleven or twelve years old.

Emily followed Lucky’s gaze. “Boys. Horsing around.”

“Who are these three?” Lucky asked.

Emily plucked the photo from her hand. “I don’t know. It should be on the back. Yes,
here it is. That’s Danny Harkins on the left; he has his arm around the center boy—Harry
Hodges. Richard Rowland is at the end. Well, what do you know? There’s Harry with
Richard Rowland. Elizabeth knew all of them very well. They were in her class.”

A chill ran up Lucky’s spine. She remembered the gravestone with Danny Harkins’s name
at the cemetery. And the other two boys—middle-aged men—were now dead within days
of each other.

“Did you know the three of them then?”

“Oh no,” Emily shook her head. “That was several years before my time. But I remember
hearing about them.”

“Danny Harkins. He was Maggie Harkins’s son?”

“That’s right. He died in a car accident. It was about oh . . . twenty-five years
ago now? No, more . . . twenty-seven, maybe. Amazing, isn’t it? How decades can go
by in the blink of an eye? Danny was around twenty when he died. He had a bit of a . . .”—Emily
leaned closer, whispering—“. . . drinking problem, or so I’ve been told.”

Lucky nodded encouragingly. She couldn’t imagine why Emily felt it necessary to whisper.
Danny was long gone and they were alone. Maybe she was superstitious about speaking
ill of the dead.

“He crashed his car late one night. They found him the next day. Terrible. So sad
for his mother. But the three of them as young boys were the best of friends, and
then I think Rowland’s family moved away.”

“What happened? Why did they leave town?”

“Now this is thirdhand, so I might not have the facts straight. Elizabeth would remember
much better than I. There was some trouble about a younger boy who used to follow
the older ones around—trying to keep up with the older kids, I guess, even though
they didn’t want him around. They used to bully and try to scare the younger kid to
get rid of him. Then the little boy died in a terrible accident. He was trapped in
an abandoned house just outside of town and they think he was playing with matches.
Anyway . . .” Emily trailed off. “He couldn’t find a way out and he died in the fire.”

“That’s awful. But I’m confused. What did this have to do with these three?” Lucky
held up the photo of Harkins, Hodges and Rowland.

Emily heaved a sigh. “There was a lot of talk at the time—that the older boys might
have caused the fire, or had something to do with that younger boy being trapped in
that old, run-down building. They denied it. They admitted they sometimes played there
but said they hadn’t been there the day the boy died and didn’t know anything about
it.”

“Who was the boy who died?”

Emily shook her head. “I have no idea. I only heard the story much later and no one
really wanted to dredge that terrible thing up again. It was so long ago now. So that’s
why I’m not absolutely sure I have the facts straight.”

“So people did suspect the older boys had something to do with it?”

“I don’t really know. They wondered if the boys were sneaking cigarettes or playing
with matches. Kids do dumb things like that sometimes. But nothing was ever proven.”

Lucky flashed on a memory of walking across the Village Green with Elizabeth. She
had turned and seen Maggie Harkins in the distance. Elizabeth had followed her gaze
and remarked
“How strange . . . to see them all here again.”

“Are you all right?” Emily peered over her glasses.

“Oh yes. Sorry. I was just recalling something Elizabeth said. Thank you.” Lucky passed
the photos back to the librarian.