A Sticky Situation (17 page)

“That doesn't sound like the Frances I knew when I was a child at all.”

“I was surprised, too. It was like she was shouting to my face what everyone else had been saying behind my back. And then, she shoved me. I slipped on the ice and landed splat on my backside on the curb.”

“How awful.” I wouldn't have believed it if Frances hadn't given me the heave-ho out of her apartment.

“The worst thing was that my new wool sweater flew
out of the bag and into a slushy puddle full of salt and sand from the plowing. It was completely ruined. That's when I snapped.”

I could see why. In the Greene family sweaters were prized. Many of the people in the family were accomplished knitters and everyone appreciated their handiwork. Sweaters, hats, and mittens were passed down from one generation to the next. That sort of treatment of a hand-knit sweater would have been too much to take sitting down.

“Did you retaliate?”

“I struggled to my feet and started shouting back. I said some things I am sure were not warranted and were certainly unkind. But I don't think they were bad enough for her to start in with the hair.” Hazel looked like she was considering something carefully. Then she slowly removed her hat from her head. “Take a look at this.” She pointed to a bald patch the size of a half-dollar.

“Did Frances do that to you?” Hearing Myra tell about it was nothing compared to seeing it for myself.

“She did. In a split second I went from scared to white-hot angry. Before I knew it we were both standing in the middle of the street holding clumps of each other's hair.”

“The whole thing must have attracted a lot of attention.”

“There was quite a crowd. I don't think I'll ever forget the look on Theresa Reynolds's face when she saw us. I think maybe that look is what made me come to
my senses. It may have been for the best that things didn't work out for you with Mitch.”

“Did you get arrested?”

“No. The police chief, Preston, was so busy sorting out the three car wrecks caused by the rubbernecking he just shook his head and sent us on our way.”

“So what happened next?”

“Well, next I decided that if people were going to talk about me I was going to give them something worth talking about. And I wasn't going to be the sort of person who got pushed around anymore. Not by my ex-husband or anyone else.”

“So that's when you started wearing fedoras and going on joyrides?” I asked.

“Absolutely. Hazel the Humble gave way to Hazel the Hellion. In some ways Frances did me an enormous favor.” Hazel took another deep drag on her cigar then cackled wheezily. “I even ended up thanking her for it.”

“When did you do that?”

“It took me a few days to work up the nerve. The new Hazel took some getting used to. I guess it must have been Monday before I approached her.”

“How did she react to you?”

“She couldn't have been friendlier. She said she regretted what she said and that she hoped we could forget it had happened. She said there was nothing to keep fighting about anyway because she was never going to see Spooner again.”

No one reported seeing Spooner after Sunday
evening. Was there a reason that on Monday Frances was so eager to bury the hatchet? Had she known for certain Spooner wouldn't be coming back? And even more important as far as honoring my promise to Tansey, how was she paying for her life at Dappled Oaks?

It took some doing but I finally found Grandma in the basement dusting the shelves of canning jars full of her prizewinning pickles. Some of Grandma's best recipes are for things you put up in jars. I did a quick tally and noted with satisfaction that the shelf holding the maple pumpkin butter still held more than a dozen jars.

“How'd you find me?” Grandma asked. Taking a look at her, my heart gave a thud and landed in my fleece-lined boots. Grandma's cheeks were covered with dirty smudges.

“I looked everywhere else. When you weren't in the laundry room I figured this is the only other place you could be.” I reached over and plucked a cobweb from the side of her head.

“Did anyone see you come down here?” Grandma
paused her flicking duster in midair. I was reminded uncomfortably of Frances and her paranoia. Maybe I shouldn't have moved out after all.

“No. I snuck down here as quickly and quietly as I could. Are you hiding from Hazel?” Grandma's shoulders stiffened and she started to shake her head then seemed to think better of it.

“I knew if I had to spend another minute with that woman Lowell was going to be visiting here on a professional call.” I leaned in and gave her appearance a closer look. Her dress was spattered with something red, which I found myself hoping was not Hazel's blood. “Was there something you needed me for?”

“Well, there was but seeing you like this drove my question to the bottom of my to-do list.”

“Don't worry yourself. As soon as Hazel gets herself gone I'll be right as rain. I just need to stay busy until she leaves. What did you need?” Grandma lowered the duster to her side and gave me her full attention.

“It's about an anonymous donation.” Grandma is generally a truthful person but she doesn't feel necessarily required to share everything she knows just because someone asks. Even if that someone is one of her family members. Grandpa and Grandma are responsible for a lot of anonymous donations around town and throughout the state.

“Well, I'm not sure if I can help with something that's anonymous but I can try,” Grandma said.

“I was talking to Theresa Reynolds about the money
going missing from the festival the year Spooner disappeared.”

“What about it?”

“She said the prize money from winning the Miss Maple contest came from the festival proceeds and that with the theft there looked like there wouldn't be any prize money after all.”

“I remember that. It was such a shame. But I thought it all came right in the end.”

“It did. An anonymous donor left the money to make up the difference at Jim Parnell's real estate office.”

“That's right. It's been so long I had forgotten but I remember now.”

“She thought you and Grandpa were the secret donors.”

“No, we weren't. We had decided that if it didn't all straighten out in a couple more days we would have done exactly that but someone else beat us to the punch.”

“Any idea who it could have been instead?” I asked. Grandma never gossips but she does have a good read on the temperature of things in the town. It's a fine line but she managed to keep on the right side of it.

“If it was an individual, I can't imagine who it could have been except maybe Doc MacIntyre. He always had a soft spot for Theresa.”

“I didn't know that.”

“Theresa's mother was Doc's receptionist for years and Theresa's father wasn't usually in the picture. Doc filled in as a sort of big brother/young uncle for Theresa
over the years. He wasn't really old enough to be a father figure then but he did what he could.”

“Did you know that Spooner was chasing after Theresa even though he had a bunch of women already lined up?”

“Everybody knew about that. It was disgraceful. She was engaged to Gary at the time and they had such a bright future ahead of them.”

“Do you think either Doc or Gary could have been angry enough to kill Spooner?”

“You know I hate to think ill of anyone but if push came to shove I think it's possible either one of them could have killed him. I remember your grandfather mentioning at the time that if Theresa were his daughter or fiancée he'd be tempted to hold Spooner's head down in the sap evaporator until he stopped breathing.” Grandma gave me a meaningful look. “And you know how much it takes to rile your grandfather up about anything.”

“Have you mentioned any of this to Lowell?”

“You know I don't like it when anyone carries tales, not even me.” Grandma had a lot of patience for a lot of things but tattletaling was never one of them. But this was different from someone sneaking a cookie from the jar or putting toads in someone's clothes hamper.

“I think you'd better tell him. As much as I hate to think it, Spooner's killer may still be living in Sugar Grove and you wouldn't want that on your conscience.”

“When you put it that way, I guess I'd best get in touch with him right away.” Grandma gave a row of jars
a final flick with her duster and headed for the stairs. “Even if I do run the risk of encountering Hazel.”

*   *   *

Doc was at the Stack, looking over the menu just like he did every day. I figured it would be the perfect place to ask him about the anonymous money Theresa had received for winning the Miss Maple competition. I slid into the bench opposite him at his favorite booth near the front of the restaurant.

“How's the sugaring coming so far this season?” Doc asked as he stirred some calorie-free sweetener into his steaming cup of coffee. The Doc I knew didn't use fake sweeteners. I wondered if he had finally crossed the line into high-blood-sugar territory. No wonder he was curious about the sugaring this year.

“The sap is running pretty well. If this keeps up we might just have a decent year.”

“Have you got enough help?”

“So far we're still managing with the family and a few seasonal employees but I think we're going to have to put a lot more trees into production to have sufficient sap to supply Jade's winery in addition to the sugaring business. That will probably mean hiring on some more people.”

“It's always good to create jobs. There are a lot of folks in town who could use some extra money. You'd be doing the community a kindness if you grew Greener Pastures into a larger enterprise.”

“Speaking of money and kindness I have a question for you.”

“Sounds serious. Should I be worried?” Just then, Piper appeared at the side of the table and plunked a large plate of salad in front of Doc.

“There you go. One grilled chicken salad, fat-free vinaigrette on the side. Can I get you anything, Dani?”

“Anything but something as healthy as that.” I pointed at the salad. I like to eat healthy foods. I happen to love vegetables in general and salads in particular but when I ate at the Stack I wasn't looking for healthy. I wanted crispy, gooey, or lofty and yeasted. The only way I wanted to eat vegetables at the Stack was if they were deep-fried and served with ketchup. Or if they came as a garnish or a pickle on the side of something meaty.

“I'll think of something and surprise you.” Piper swished away, her vintage waitress uniform rustling as she walked. I thought about asking Doc about his salad but decided to hold my tongue. I didn't want to offend him before I even asked about the anonymous gift to Theresa.

“So what was it you wanted to ask me?”

“Did you give Theresa the prize money for the Miss Maple competition on the sly thirty years ago?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because a whole lot of cash went missing and I am trying to figure out where any unusual amounts came from. Your name was mentioned as the possible donor of that money.”

“Not by Theresa, I hope.”

“No. It was someone else.”

“Your grandmother?”

“Yes. She said you were protective of both Theresa and her mother.”

“Your grandmother was right. It was me. I had low expenses and enough set aside for a rainy day that the prize money didn't make a dent in my finances. I hated to see that kid go without because of someone else's crime. Especially since she was planning on getting married. It takes a good bit of cash to set up housekeeping.”

“But you didn't want her to know?”

“It wasn't so much her, as her mother and all the gossips in town. You know how people are.”

“Why don't you tell me anyway?” I knew how I thought people were but Doc might have a completely different take on the local population.

“Theresa's mother was a proud woman with a strict sense of propriety. You know the kind of woman who would never let her daughter accept a gift of jewelry from a boy because she felt it implied a relationship beyond what was appropriate for a young girl?”

My grandmother had said some things like that when Celadon and I were teenagers. Celadon had a boyfriend who gave her a gold necklace with a heart on it for her birthday when they were in high school. Grandma told my parents they ought to make Celadon give it back because of the level of commitment it implied.

Mom just laughed and said not to worry. Dad took the boy to the den for a chat the next time he came
calling. If I remember properly Celadon gave him back the necklace when they broke up a few weeks later.

“I know what you mean. What does that have to do with you?”

“I'm as close in age to Theresa as I am to her mother. Tongues wag too easily, especially if the family is the one to start in with the wagging.”

“I see. You wanted Theresa to have the money because you felt concerned for her but you didn't want people thinking you had an ulterior motive.”

“That's right. I especially didn't want to make things harder on Theresa than they already were. It was a crying shame the way her win at the pageant got entirely overshadowed by the fact that Spooner ran off and Preston kept grilling Theresa about possibly being an accomplice.”

“She said she was pretty scared for a while. She mentioned Preston seemed to think she was the only suspect besides Spooner. I know if I were her I would have been worried.” Just the amount of police scrutiny I'd experienced from Mitch and his campaign of harassment with parking tickets and moving violations had been intimidating enough.

“Preston did seem set on Spooner and Theresa being the main focus of his investigation.”

“Theresa said Frances knew a lot more about the festival and the bank than she did. Why do you think he didn't grill her as much?”

“I don't really know. But if I had to guess I would
say it was a matter of pride. Preston never has been a man who was willing to be wrong or to offer an apology. Once he latched on to the idea Spooner and maybe Theresa were guilty he wasn't going to change course for anything less than rock-solid evidence that someone else was the culprit.”

“Did you ever wonder if Preston didn't look too hard for Spooner because he already knew where he was?”

“Are you suggesting the chief of police had something to do with Spooner's death?” Doc dropped his fork back onto his plate with a clatter.

“I'm just asking. After all, from all accounts, Spooner had no compunction about laying his hands on every woman in sight. Preston told me his marriage broke up because of Spooner. He wouldn't be the first man to kill his wife's lover.”

“Preston is not one of my favorite people. He's a blowhard and he wielded his power with more enthusiasm than I thought showed wisdom, especially in such a small town with so little dangerous crime.”

“So you're saying you think he could have done it?”

“No. I'm saying the reason I didn't like him was he was too much of a stickler for the rules. I doubt very much he would have gone against them, even if by doing so he might have saved his marriage.”

“I hate to say it but I've wondered if Gary could have been involved. After all, Spooner was overtly pursuing Theresa.”

“He could have had something to do with it, I
suppose. He was a young hothead. And, he had recently been given access to the town hall.”

“He did? Why?” That was news to me.

“He worked with the plumbing and heating company that converted the furnace in the town hall from coal to oil burning.”

“Why would you know a thing like that?”

“Because Gary proposed to Theresa just after he got the job. He waited to ask her until he was sure he would be able to provide for a family. She was over the moon about the whole thing and it was all her mother talked about in the office for weeks.”

“I don't want to think Theresa or Gary could be involved. They are both nice people. I really just wish there was some way Spooner could have accidentally buried himself under that pile of coal.”

“And I wish you'd stop talking about unpleasant things while I'm trying to eat my salad.” Piper appeared at the table once more and placed a plate in front of me. It was filled with something that looked like a cinnamon roll and smelled like a pasta dish.