Chapter 19
I pulled up to Mom’s house and killed the engine, listening to the mysterious parts under the hood tick and pop. As I got out of the car, I glanced at the front door and smiled. Even though it wouldn’t be dark for a while, Mom had already turned on the porch light. When Ashlee and I were teenagers, the porch light was always Mom’s sign that she was waiting up for us.
The smell of herbs and onions greeted me in the entryway when I walked in the door, and I inhaled deeply. I really needed to cook more in my new place, maybe even a dish that didn’t require a can opener.
I went into the kitchen. Mom stood before the open door of the oven, studying the contents of a casserole dish. I could see chicken breasts nestled in a bed of brown rice, with bright green broccoli florets peeking out between the grains.
Mom closed the oven door and laid the mitts on the counter. “Dinner will be ready here in a few minutes.”
I set my purse on a chair and shrugged out of my coat. “Need any help?”
“No, dear. You’re a guest tonight. Sit down and relax.” She reached into the cabinet above the counter and pulled down three dinner plates. “I asked Ashlee to join us. She’ll be here as soon as she gets off work.”
Mom set the plates on the table, while I went to the drawer to grab the silverware. She tried to shoo me away, but I ignored her.
“She doesn’t have a date with Chip?” I asked. “Then again, he hasn’t been hanging around the apartment lately, so maybe she’s through with him.”
“Ashlee did mention she was losing interest. But I’m sure she’ll find a new boyfriend soon. She’s so popular.”
Mom said she was “popular”; I said she was “not particularly choosy.” Mom set three glasses on the table, while I retrieved the napkins. I was laying the last one next to a plate when the front door banged open.
Ashlee came into the kitchen, her blond hair up in a ponytail, her makeup freshly applied. “Hey, my peeps. Is dinner ready yet?” She tossed her purse on the chair with mine and dropped down onto an empty one.
“You’re just in time,” Mom cooed as she rushed to the oven and removed the casserole. I took the seat opposite Ashlee at the table. Mom set the dish on a trivet and sat down at the head of the table. For a second, I felt as if I’d traveled back in time a few weeks, to when we’d all been living together. A wave of nostalgia washed over me.
We made short work of eating dinner. When we were finished, I rose from the table and carried my plate to the sink. I placed it in the dishwasher and dropped my fork in the silverware caddy. Mom and I cleared the rest of the table, while Ashlee checked her reflection in her dinner knife.
“How about a quick game of cards?” Mom asked as she wiped down the table with a damp rag.
“I’d feel terrible taking all your money after you made such a tasty dinner,” I said.
“Who says I won’t beat the pants off both of you?” Ashlee asked.
I went into the hall and opened up the game closet, then removed the poker chip case from the shelf. I carried it back to the table and unlatched it. “How about you put your money where your mouth is?”
We all sat down, and I divvied up the chips.
“Let’s play for more than a penny a chip tonight,” Ashlee said. “I’ve got my eye on a new pair of shoes.”
Mom pursed her lips. “The pennies are for fun, not to turn you into a professional gambler.”
“You know what’s fun,” Ashlee said, “is strip poker.”
I rolled my eyes, and Mom sighed. We all placed our ante in the middle of the table, and I pulled out the deck of cards. While I shuffled, Ashlee rattled on about some new guy she’d met at the vet’s office where she worked when he brought in his sick turtle. She paused in her rhapsodizing about how gorgeous the guy was to say, “Dana, we should get a turtle. They’re super easy to take care of.”
“I think a turtle still falls under the no-pet clause in our lease. But you could date this guy and take care of his turtle when you’re over at his place.”
Ashlee rearranged the cards in her hand and then folded. “Not a bad idea. That’ll show him how caring I am.”
“Does this mean you’re no longer seeing that other boy?” Mom asked as she tossed a chip onto the stack.
Ashlee scrunched up her nose. “I might still see him sometimes, but I don’t see any kind of future with him.”
That tended to happen with all of Ashlee’s boyfriends after the first month or two. “Well, good luck with this next one,” I said. Ashlee squinted at me to see if I was being sarcastic, but I simply smiled at her.
“So, Dana,” Mom said, “what else do you know about this new craft store? My bunco buddies and I are very excited about the opening. Esther and I might try making a quilt together.”
I folded my own hand of mismatched cards and watched as Mom swooped in and pulled the pile of chips over to her stack.
“Patricia Porter is opening it,” I said. “She’s the one who threw the Celebration of Life for the spa owner that I told you about. She plans to include workshops, although she didn’t tell me exactly what lessons she’ll offer. Considering how excited she is about opening the store, I’m sure she’ll teach people anything and everything.”
“I can’t wait,” Mom said as she started to shuffle. “Patricia Porter . . . Why does that name sound familiar?” She paused in her dealing and looked at Ashlee. “Didn’t she have a daughter in your grade?”
“Porter’s the last name? Not that I know of.” She looked off into the distance, absentmindedly fiddling with her poker chips. “Wait, now that I think about it, there was a girl named Dawn Porter, but she was in all the advanced classes, so I didn’t hang out with her much. Her mom was always on her case about her grades and getting into the top colleges. She could have relaxed more if she’d gone to some of the parties the other kids were throwing, but she was always such a stress case.”
“What parties?” Mom asked.
Ashlee’s eyes grew wide, and I could see her trying to think up an answer. Even with our childhood long behind us, nobody liked getting caught misbehaving. “Oh, you know, study parties at the library, that kind of thing.”
Yeah, right.
I was pretty sure that Ashlee had never actually stepped inside the Blossom Valley library the entire time she’d been in school, except maybe to use the bathroom.
Mom set the rest of the deck down and picked up her hand of cards. “Nice try. Anyway, now that you mention Dawn, I remember her mom. She used to be a member of the PTA when you were in elementary school. She was the president, in fact. Ran that association like one of those controlling dance moms you see on TV.”
“I’ve spoken to her only a few times, but she definitely comes across as the take-charge type,” I said as I set two cards facedown and Mom dealt me two new ones.
“She told me once that since she never finished college and started her own career, she’d made raising her children to their highest potential her new career. Of course, she ran off almost everyone who belonged to the PTA. Membership was at an all-time low the second year she was president. People got tired of being roped into all her fund-raisers and projects.”
I wondered if Stan had ever attended those meetings. I could see him being her biggest fan. “I take it PTA president isn’t a position that people elect someone to?”
“By the time the next election came around, the only members left were people who liked her or those who were afraid of her.”
“That’s one way to win.” I fanned out my cards and tried to keep the smile off my face as I realized I had a flush. I cleared my throat. “Think I’ll try three chips this time,” I said as I tossed them into the middle.
Ashlee threw down her cards. “I’m out. You always clear your throat when you have a big hand.”
“I do not,” I said. Did I? I guessed I needed to work on my poker face.
We played for another hour, until Mom had amassed a huge pile of chips and Ashlee and I were both down to tiny stacks.
“Looks like you’re the big winner tonight, Mom,” I said.
Ashlee stuck her lip out. “Guess those shoes will have to wait until payday.”
“And until after you’ve paid me your share of the rent money.” I started putting the chips back in the case. “How much do I owe you?” I asked.
“I’ll let you girls off the hook this time,” Mom said. “It’s so nice to have you home again, even if it’s only for one evening.”
Eating dinner and playing games with Mom and Ashlee had felt so much like old times, that for a moment, I considered asking to sack out in my room for the night, under the Hello Kitty comforter that still graced the twin bed. But I shook off the feeling. My apartment was my new home.
I stowed the poker chip case and the cards where they belonged. “Guess I should get going,” I said. I pulled on my jacket. “I’ve got work tomorrow.”
Ashlee said, “Me too.”
I said good night to Mom and walked out with Ashlee. As I started my car, I felt one last wistful pull toward the house before I drove off into the night.
The next morning I stood in the middle of the kitchen and cursed the empty cupboards. I’d have to stop by the store and at least buy milk and cereal if I ever wanted to eat at home again. With no time to shop before work, I picked up a breakfast burrito at a fast-food joint on my way through town and drove out to the farm. The morning was unusually warm, and I decided to take ten minutes and sit at the picnic table on the patio to eat breakfast. The sparrows and robins accompanied my meal with a steady stream of chirps and trills, begging for a nibble. While I ate, I watched a dragonfly flit around the pool surface before zipping away.
As I popped the last bite in my mouth, one of the French doors to the dining room opened, and Miguel walked out. His appearance was so unexpected that I involuntarily gulped. I swallowed twice more to force the lump of burrito down my throat.
He saw the take-out bag and smiled, his perfect white teeth gleaming. I guessed he wasn’t harboring any ill will from yesterday’s encounter. “A fast-food breakfast two mornings in a row. You must like them.”
“Mostly, I don’t like to grocery shop.” I wadded up the greasy wrapper and dropped it in the nearby trash can, saving the paper bag to place in the recycling bin when I got to the kitchen.
“I can relate. If it wasn’t for my trying to eat healthy as much as possible, I’d never shop for groceries again. The gentleman in the lobby said the spa is back here.” He pointed toward the cabins. “Is that it?”
I shook my head. “Those are the guest cabins. The spa is farther down the trail.” I rose from the table. “I’ll show you.”
Miguel put up his hands in protest. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble. I’m sure you’re busy.”
“No trouble at all.” Plus, this would give me the opportunity to talk to him privately about Carla.
We moved past the pool and toward the guest cabins. I was careful to keep my pace slow, but not so slow that he might notice.
“Have you heard anything from the police lately about Carla’s murder?” I asked, wondering if they were focusing on Miguel as a possible suspect. Did they know he was married? Surely the police had easy access to court records.
“They have stopped by more than once to ask questions but haven’t told me anything. I’d like to at least know they’re getting somewhere with their investigation. Carla deserves justice.”
“I’m sure they’re making progress.” I spotted a fuzzy caterpillar inching its way across the path. I used my paper bag to scoop the caterpillar up and move it to a patch of grass off to the side. A bird might eat it for a snack later, but at least no one would step on it. When I straightened up, I found Miguel smiling at me. “How did you two meet, anyway?”
His smile wilted. “At a chamber of commerce meeting. We got to talking and found we both had similar backgrounds in project management and business administration. We hit it off right away.”
“Sounds like a perfect match.” If only one half of that match hadn’t already been married. I tried to sneak a peek at his ring finger, but I was walking on the wrong side. He probably took the ring off the minute he left the house in the morning, anyway.
“Yes, and we both valued our independence. We wanted to keep the relationship casual.”
A casual relationship was about all Carla could expect given the circumstances.
“I only wish I’d had a chance to say good-bye.” Miguel’s regretful tone caught me off guard, and I glanced over. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were moist.
I softened my tone. Even if he was a no-good cheating scoundrel, he could have still cared deeply for Carla. “I think everyone has that thought when a loved one dies unexpectedly. I felt the same way when my father passed away.”
“Things were going so well between us,” he said. “I realize now that I assumed we’d go on like that forever.”
We were nearing the spa, and I felt like I hadn’t learned anything useful on my little walk with Miguel.
“Did you ever visit Carla at the Pampered Life?” I asked, making a last-ditch effort.
“A few times. Of course, her place was open only a couple of weeks before she . . . well, you know.” He cleared his throat and looked away. After a moment, he spoke again. “I’d stop by after work sometimes, and we’d go to dinner or get coffee.”
A piece of the puzzle snapped into place. “Did she leave the back door unlocked for you?”
His head swiveled in my direction. “How did you know?”
“Just a hunch.” I wondered how many other people knew about this habit. Was her murder planned around this easy access, or did the killer catch a lucky break? “Were you supposed to have dinner with her that night?”
“No. I had a meeting.”
I almost groaned aloud in my disappointment. Here I’d pegged him as the most likely suspect, and he had an alibi.
“But I think she left the door unlocked all the time, in case I stopped by.” He jerked to a halt. “My God, do you think the killer knew that Carla normally did that?”