“Actually, I’d really rather have Wally do it. I know the kind of work he does, and that way it helps you out too. But Mary Beth sounds like she doesn’t want to wait much longer to get her basement organized. I’m sure she’d like the referral.”
“I appreciate your wanting to hire Wally. I would like to see us get a little ahead for once.”
“It’s pure selfishness on my part. He did such a nice job on my kitchen, I don’t want to use anyone else.” Smiling, Annie handed the menu back to Peggy. “I hope you still have that shrimp chowder you had as your special today. I need something to warm me up.”
“Coming right up.”
5
The chowder was delicious, a hearty cream base packed with shrimp, bacon, and potatoes, and things looked a little bit brighter by the time Annie pulled up in front of Grey Gables.
Alice waved from the front porch of the carriage house and then scurried over to the car. “Find out anything?”
“You’re just as bad as Peggy. Come in out of the cold, and I’ll tell you about it.” Annie unlocked her front door and picked up the stack of mail lying just inside. “I have some chicken and veggies in the slow cooker if you want to eat later on.”
“That sounds a lot better than the leftover pasta I was going to have. Don’t mind if I do.”
There was a patter of paws on the stairs, and then Boots hurried into the room, rubbing against Annie’s legs, demanding attention.
“All right. All right. You first.” Annie handed Alice the obituary about Susan’s aunt. “That’s all I found out. Pretty much the end of the story as far as tracking Susan through her. Be right back.”
When she returned from feeding the cat, Alice returned the article to her.
“End of story all right. I’m sorry.”
“Now I just have to figure out how to track Susan down through her marriage in 49 other states.”
“Don’t forget the territories, the District of Columbia, and all the foreign countries in the world.”
“Great. Thanks.” Annie sat on the couch beside Alice and started shuffling through the mail. “Bills, bills, and bills, it looks like. What did you decide about the harvest banquet?”
“It’s the pumpkin bread again.” Alice sighed dramatically. “My public demands it.”
“You know you could always …” Annie frowned at the envelope she held. “I wonder what this is. It couldn’t have come in the mail. There isn’t an address.”
Alice shrugged. “Maybe somebody brought it by. What’s in it?”
“Let’s see.”
Annie slit open the envelope and took out the single sheet of paper, half smiling as she looked at it. The letters were cut from the newspaper the way they did in old gangster movies. It had to be a joke, right?
Alice’s eyes showed her concern. “What is it?”
Annie let her read the message for herself.
FORGET ABOUT SUSAN AND MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS
.
****
“Mayor Butler’s office. May I help you?” Silver-haired Mrs. Nash waved at Annie and then spoke into the telephone receiver attached to her ear. “Yes, Mr. Price. Can you hold, please?”
She touched a button on the telephone on the desk and then smiled.
“Good morning, Mrs. Dawson. What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping to see the mayor.” Annie cringed inwardly. This whole thing seemed so silly now. “I—I don’t know whether it’s important, but I’d sure like to talk to him about something.”
“Hold on a minute.” Mrs. Nash touched another button on the telephone. “Mr. Butler, Mr. Price is on line 1, and Mrs. Dawson is here to see you.” She paused a moment. “Yes, sir, I’ll tell her.”
“I can come back if this is a bad time,” Annie offered. “It looks like he’s pretty busy.”
“He wants you to go right in.” Mrs. Nash gestured toward the door to the mayor’s office and then returned to the call she had placed on hold. “Mr. Price? The mayor would like to know if he can return your call in a few minutes.”
Ian opened the door before Annie could reach it, enveloping her hand in both of his.
“Come in, come in. Have a seat.” He closed the door after her and then rolled a padded leather chair up to the desk and offered it to her, his dark eyes warm. “Nothing like starting the morning with a visit from a pretty lady.”
She sat down, managing a little bit of a smile. “I’m really sorry to bother you with something so silly, but I just wasn’t sure if this was something the police should see.”
She handed him the anonymous note and waited for him to look it over.
He narrowed his eyes. “When did you get this?”
“It must have been pushed through my mail slot sometime yesterday. I don’t know when. I was in town most of the day.”
“Looking for information on this Susan, right?”
“You’ve been at The Cup & Saucer.”
“Word does get around.” Ian put the note down on his desk. “Who touched this after you opened it?”
“Just Alice. And you, of course. That’s all. I suppose I should have put it in a plastic bag or something to protect any fingerprints that were on it. It … well, it’s kind of hokey looking, don’t you think? I’m not sure if it isn’t somebody’s idea of a joke. As you said, word does get around. I have to admit, though, it creeped me out a bit to be all alone in the middle of the night.”
“That’s understandable. Where was it in the mail you picked up? On the top or the bottom?”
Annie shrugged. “I don’t remember. I was shuffling through all the letters and telling Alice about the stuff I got on Susan from the library and didn’t pay attention. Does it matter?”
“Maybe not. I just thought that it might give us an idea about whether it came before or after the regular mail delivery. What exactly did you find out about this woman, anyway?”
“Not much, really. Her parents and her aunt are the only relatives I know of, and they all died back in the late ’80s. I’m still trying to find out who Susan married back then, but so far that’s it.”
“Nothing strange about the deaths?”
“Not at all. Her parents were in a car accident, and her aunt died of pneumonia. It’s tragic, especially for a young girl suddenly left alone, but not mysterious. Now, though, I’m wondering why someone would take the trouble to leave me that message, and whether there’s more to the story.”
Ian looked at her for a long moment. “I don’t like it.”
“Do you think there’s really anything to worry about? The note doesn’t include any actual threat.”
“No, I suppose not, but it just doesn’t seem like something one of our people would do as a joke.” He reached across the desk for her hand. “I want you to let me talk to the police chief about this.”
She hoped he didn’t feel the little shiver that ran through her. “You—you don’t think it’s that serious, do you?”
Laughing, he patted her hand and then released it. “Not serious enough for you to get worried about, OK? I just want to see what he says. Doesn’t have to be anything official. If it’s somebody we know who suddenly thinks he’s a comedian or something, we can quietly put a stop to it. How’s that?”
“Yeah, I suppose that would be the best way to handle it. Do you know someone who could look into it without making it a federal case?”
“Do I know someone? I’m a politician, remember?”
Annie beamed at him. “You’re a good friend too. Thank you.”
“Chief Edwards is just down the hall. I’ll ask him about it and let you know.” He raised one eyebrow. “You and Alice might have to have your fingerprints taken.”
“That really
would
give folks something to talk about.”
She stood up, and he followed suit.
“I’ll let you know what I find out. You, um … I was thinking of going over to the Fish House for lunch in a little while. You want to come?”
That guileless charm was hard to resist, especially when combined with those rugged good looks. No wonder the voters loved him.
She squeezed his hand. “Give me a rain check, will you? I have a million things to do today. I have to go over to Malone’s to pick out some paint colors first of all.”
“More remodeling?”
“I want Wally Carson to work on my upstairs bathroom when he gets a chance. Though I guess I could get that other guy, Tom Maxwell, but I don’t know anything about him.”
“I’ve met Tom a time or two. Seems all right to me. He and his wife Sandy keep to themselves pretty much though, and I think most of the work he gets is outside town. Come to think of it, the Maxwells live in the old Morris house. Just for the past few years, though, so I’m afraid they couldn’t help you out about Susan.”
“I may just go out there and have a look around, anyway. For old times’ sake.”
“If you have to, but keep your eyes open when you’re out and about. If you think anybody’s acting strange around you, let me know or go straight to the police. OK?”
Annie glanced at the unevenly pasted letters on the note that lay open on Ian’s desk. It was just a piece of paper. She wasn’t going to let it become more than that.
“I’ll be fine, Ian. Thanks.”
****
The old Morris house was mostly the way Annie remembered it, even down to the fan-shaped window above the front door, but it was much smaller than she recalled from her girlhood. Still, it was a lovely old place set back in the trees, crisp and white against the brilliant reds and yellows of the maples. Susan had told her once that the house was nearly 200 years old. It had seen a lot of living. No wonder Susan had loved it.
Annie stopped at the end of the long gravel driveway and got out of the car, content to just look. She noticed that the door, like the shutters, was painted a very dark green, not the black she remembered from Susan’s days, but the paint was fresh and neat, and the yard, apart from the wilder part that stretched back into the forest, was well kept. Maybe the Maxwells loved the house too.
She walked a little farther down the drive, lost in the memories of girlhood, remembering where she and Susan had played and giggled and whispered. She wandered up to the big oak at the corner of the house that had once held a tire swing. The swing itself was gone now, but the hooks that had supported the chains were still buried in place. And there were still some weathered strips of wood fastened to the tree trunk with long-rusted nails. She was sure they were the remains of the ladder Susan’s dad had made to help them get up into the lower branches of the tree.
She and Susan had always pretended they were far above the earth, playing in the clouds like …
“Did you want something?”
Annie sucked in a startled breath and turned. The man standing there in jeans and a rumpled flannel shirt open over a V-neck undershirt was perhaps in his late forties. His tangled mop of dark hair and serious stubble of beard told Annie that he had just wakened.
“I—I’m sorry. I was just—” She smiled weakly. “There used to be a swing in this tree.”
He glanced up at the empty branches and then looked back at her, his eyes skeptical, suspicious. “Was there something you wanted?”
“Are you Tom Maxwell?”
“Yeah. Is that a problem?”
She blinked at his bluntness. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
He raked one hand through his hair. “It’s no big deal. Did you want something?”
She tried the smile again. “My name is Annie Dawson. It sounds a little bit silly now that I’m here, but a friend of mine and her family used to live in this house about twenty years ago. I’ve been trying to find some information about her for a while now. Susan Morris.”
“I don’t know anything about twenty years ago. I bought the place from some people called Blanchard in 2000.”
“Yes, I realize that, but—”
His dark eyes narrowed. “How would you know who I bought my house from?”
“Well, I didn’t really know who you got it from, but I did find out that my friend sold it to the Blanchards back in 1989, so I just assumed …”
Annie let the words trail off. Clearly Mr. Maxwell was not impressed by her sleuthing abilities. She tried again.
“Don’t you do handyman work in the area?”
“Yeah. Do you have something you need done?”
“I might. I’m thinking of redoing my bathroom, but I just can’t decide exactly how. This is a great old house. Have you done any remodeling since you’ve been here?”
His suspicious expression did not change. “Some.”
“I hope you didn’t do very much. It’s such a lovely old place.”
“Not much.”
“I guess Mrs. Maxwell likes having her own live-in handyman.”
He shrugged. “When she doesn’t have to wait for one of my other jobs to get done. How do you know about my wife?”
“I was just talking with Ian Butler. He said he’d met you before, and that you and your wife live out here.”
His eyes narrowed again. “Why?”
“It was just small talk. We were discussing my friend and this house. It wasn’t really about you and Mrs. Maxwell.”
“I didn’t think the mayor knew that much about us.”
“Oh, Ian knows everybody in and around town. You’d like him if you got to know him. I think you’d like most everybody in Stony Point. Pastor Wallace always says—Have you met Pastor Wallace?”
“A time or two. Nice guy.”
“Anyway, he always says that our neighbors are like—”
“Look, Mrs. Dawson, we pretty much think that a good neighbor is one who stays out of everybody else’s way. Your friend sold this house years before I ever moved here, and I don’t know all that much about the place anyway. It’s a good solid house, and that’s all that matters to me. I just can’t help you with anything else.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and looked pointedly in the direction of her car.
“Do you think your wife—?”
“I think my wife can’t help you either. We’re both pretty busy. I’m sure you can understand that.”
Obviously, the conversation was over. Shoulders sagging, Annie thanked the man and got back into her car. She backed up a little bit so she could turn around in the drive. As she did so, she took one more look at the house.
A woman peered out of the window and then disappeared, perhaps when she realized Annie had seen her. Despite Mr. Maxwell’s flinty expression, Annie waited a moment more, but didn’t see anyone else. Finally, she pulled away from the house and headed for home.
Obviously the woman was Mrs. Maxwell, but why hadn’t she come outside?
And why didn’t she ever come into town?