THIRTY SIX
The girls came downstairs and I made pancakes for all of them, chocolate chip for Will, blueberry for the girls. After that round of dishes were done, the girls got their rubber band bracelet kits out and started making miniature jewelery for their dolls. Will disappeared back upstairs, muttering something about an all-day Minecraft marathon. After what I’d asked him to do for me, I didn’t feel like I was in a position to tell him not to.
With the girls comparing doll dresses to available colors of rubber band looms, finding the perfect color combination for each outfit, I thought it was safe to pull out my computer. I settled on the couch with a fresh cup of coffee and, with my body turned toward the girls so they couldn’t look over my shoulder, I entered the username and password Will had found.
I drew a shaky, giddy breath as the account opened and took me right to her page. It looked exactly like the public page I’d viewed before—except that I now had access to the tiny mailbox icon on the right side of the page.
I paused for a moment, the cursor hovering over the icon. I couldn’t recall invading someone’s privacy before. Even with my kids, I was always careful to give them space, to not hover over them like the other helicopter parents I saw and read about. Clicking that mailbox stood for everything I was against.
But I was convinced that Helen Stunderson had killed Olaf.
And the only way I was going to find out if she truly was involved was to gain access to private information. No matter how uncomfortable it made me feel to pry.
I took another deep breath and, closing my eyes, tapped the return button on my keyboard.
The box was filled with messages. I stared at the senders’ names and felt the first twinge of disappointment. Most of the names were the ones I’d seen on her public page, benign approaches via private message. She’d rewarded them with more words about how awful her ex-husband was and how she’d deserved better and blah blah blah. She was doing the same thing in private that she’d done publicly. Most of the conversations ended as soon as she’d responded, the men apparently losing interest when they realized she was no different behind the curtain than she was on stage.
I scrolled through all of them and one thing became immediately clear. Helen had lied about dating multiple people. Or if she had indeed dated a lot of guys, she hadn’t found them through Around The Corner. She’d boasted about all the men that were after her, but if that was true, she wasn’t finding them through the site.
Except for one.
It was the next to last message in her mailbox. And for once, she hadn’t spilled her guts about her marriage and divorce. She’d asked him some questions. She’d answered his. She sounded less insane in the conversations with him. There were multiple messages and they’d had long discussions—about their interests, their pasts, even Helen’s divorce. They’d agreed to meet and had apparently done so, based on what I read. She’d had a good time and so had he. So they’d gone out again.
I stared at the photo and user name.
The photo was of his mid-section only. A ripped, tanned abdomen encircled by a tool belt. I rolled my eyes and stifled a giggle. It instantly brought back memories of all the cheesy photos I’d seen scroll through my recommendations when I’d been on the site.
I bit back another laugh when I saw his name.
Sexy. His name was Sexy. Nothing more. He signed his emails with a simple ‘S.’
I searched for him in the profile section, hoping there might be more info, but I couldn’t find him. That wasn’t out of the norm. You could hide your profile if you wanted to once you started dating someone or if you just wanted to lay low. It wasn’t a total shock that I couldn’t find him but it was disappointing.
I read through their email exchanges again. He seemed nice, non-threatening, and he seemed to genuinely have had a good time on their first date. Helen’s responses indicated that she was excited that he was interested in her. He was sympathetic about her divorce but never said anything negative about Olaf…mostly because, for some reason, Helen had decided not to complain about him. Maybe she’d learned her lesson from her previous exchanges with men on the site. Or maybe she’d stopped caring because she’d finally found someone she liked. I didn’t know.
But one thing was becoming crystal clear. There was nothing in her private emails on the site that indicated she’d had a hand in her ex-husband’s death.
I sighed and closed the laptop and glanced at the clock. It was almost noon. The girls had a pile of miniature bracelets and necklaces on the dining room table, a rainbow of colors. Will was still upstairs, probably immersed in a Minecraft battle. The kids would need lunch soon and both girls needed showers. I needed to wash the sheets we needed to head to the pet store at some point to get a more permanent home for the hamster.
The last thing I needed to be spending time on was trying to play amateur detective. Looking through those messages had done more than raise my guilt level; it had left me feeling decidedly out of my league. And foolish. I’d bribed my son. Participated in hacking into a commercial web site. Reading through private emails. All in some desperate attempt to figure out why a guy I’d known for approximately three hours had ended up in my coal cute.
There was a lot wrong with that. I wondered if maybe it was time to start listening to Jake and to let it go and leave the investigation to the professionals.
I stood up and stretched and glanced down at the laptop. Let it go, I reminded myself. Get on with the day. I nodded in agreement at my inner monologue.
But I couldn’t help looking at the closed laptop one more time.
Because I really, really wanted to know who Sexy was.
THIRTY SEVEN
I was finishing up with the lunch dishes when a knock at the backdoor sent the kids scattering to their hiding places. I toweled off my hands and waved at Rex the inspector through the window.
“Hey Daisy,” he said when I opened the door. “Jake called me this morning about the pipe thing. I told him I could stop by to get some measurements so you can get the HVAC guy out here to install the ducting. Is now an okay time?”
“Sure,” I said, stepping out of the way so he could come in. “No problem.”
He clutched his travel mug of coffee in his hand and stomped his feet on the mat, shaking the snow loose from his boots. “Just figured since I was driving by and Jake and I had just talked, I’d get it done now. Get those pipes warmed up for good.”
It seemed like forever since Jake and I had gone down there to unfreeze the pipe and had found the unpleasant surprise in the coal chute.
“Yeah, of course,” I said. “Let’s go downstairs.”
He followed me down into the basement and I hit the lights for the low-ceilinged room.
“Things starting to calm down?” Rex asked as we reached the bottom of the stairs. “With, you know, the thing and all?”
“Oh, I guess,” I told him. I wrapped my arms around myself. It was as cool as a cave in the below-ground basement. “Still lots of questions and what not.”
He nodded. “Ran into Olga at the grocery store the other day,” he said. He walked over to the heating unit and set his mug down on an old card table we’d set up. “Said you two have been talking.”
“We got off on the wrong foot.” I thought back to our wrestling match in the snow. “But I think we’re friends now.”
“Nothing but nice things to say about you,” he said as he pulled a tape measure from his pocket. “For what that’s worth.” He laid the tape to the side of the unit. “Guess Helen’s been giving her some trouble about all of it.”
I nodded. “Helen seems to have a way of stirring up a little trouble.”
Rex chuckled and punched some measurements into his phone. “I suppose. Think everyone’s on edge, though. Kind of strange having a dead body in Moose River.”
That was an understatement.
“Can’t recall the last time that’s happened.” He held the tape up again to the opening near the crawl space. He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Police give you any clue as to what they think happened?”
I shook my head. “The only thing that detective has said to me is to mind my own business.”
He chuckled again. “Ol’ Priscilla. She’s a tough cookie. Means well, but a little short on the courtesy gene.”
That was one way of putting it.
He punched more measurements into his phone. “Yeah, I’d expect she’d want to clear everyone away from it. But that makes sense. Just trying to do her job without anyone or anything getting in the way.”
“I guess.”
He looked at the pipes, reached up and touched one, then tapped on his phone again. “I’d imagine they’re giving Helen a pretty good grilling about it.”
“You think?” I asked, my hands on my hips.
He eyed me. “You met her before?”
I nodded.
“She’s a tough cookie, too,” he said, still tapping away. “Bit of an odd bird.” He shook his head. “Be a sad thing if she was the one that did it to Olaf.”
I told myself not to engage, to not ask questions. But my radar was on high alert.
“You think she did?” I asked.
He shrugged and held the tape measure up to the wall. “I don’t want to speculate. But I guess if I were Priscilla, that’s where I’d start looking.”
At least I wasn’t the only one on that track of thinking. “I just don’t get how he ended up here.”
His mouth twisted and his bushy mustached bounced a little. “Well, I’d expect she knew about you and Olaf.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
He snapped the tape measure closed and stuck it in his pocket. “I think everyone knew you two went on at least one date. Big mouths in a small town and all that.”
I blushed.
“So I’d expect she knew,” he said. “So if she did do it…well, you might’ve been an easy target for her.”
I shook my head. It all seemed too bizarre for me. But at least I knew I wasn’t alone in my thinking. Rex and I were on the same page. I smiled, grateful that he had come to some of the same conclusions I had.
“Was she dating anyone?” I asked. “Here in Moose River?”
He grabbed his coffee and took a long swallow, then shrugged. “Not really sure. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve just heard some things.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That right?”
“Just that she might’ve been dating someone,” I said. “I know she was on a dating website and she claimed she was involved with someone. But I can’t find who it was.” I smiled sheepishly. “And that’s just me being too nosy and doing things I shouldn’t be doing.”
“Right, right,” he said, running a finger over his mustache. He took another drink of his coffee. “Well, I know she went out with that Cornelius fellow. The taxidermist.”
I nodded. “I heard that, too.”
“But I don’t know if it was anything serious.” He shrugged again. “I don’t think I can help you too much there.”
“Nor should you,” I told him. I offered another smile, this time one of apology. “I’m getting way too into all of the gossip. I just need to step away from all of it. Mind my own business for a change.”
He returned the smile and held up his phone. “Think I got everything I need. I’ll call my guy and we’ll probably be out here again in a day or two. We’ll get the vents cut and hopefully keep those pipes warm for the rest of winter.”
“That’d be great,” I said.
I followed him back upstairs. He reached for his boots and pulled them on, then dug his keys out of his pocket. I walked him to the door and opened it for him.
“I’ll try and call next time,” Rex said as he crossed the threshold. “Not just drop in on you.”
“If we’re here, you’re welcome to come by,” I said. “It’s fine.”
“Okay,” he said. He paused and the cold air rushed in through the open door. “I wish I could help you, Daisy. With figuring all this out.”
I shook my head. “Oh, gosh, don’t worry about it,” I told him. “Like I said. I need to just let it go.”
He nodded. “Yeah, suppose so. Just not meant to be. Sure would be nice to know who did that to poor Olaf, though.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah it would.”
THIRTY EIGHT
Emily dropped her books on the table. “Well, it’s official. I’m poison.”
I’d taken the kids to the library and to the pet store after Rex had left and spent the better portion of the day focusing on them instead of getting distracted by Olaf or Helen. We’d had a nice afternoon and I felt sort of normal after a major run of abnormal days. I was sitting at the table, checking the computer for how to make homemade hamster toys, when Emily stormed in the house and made her dramatic announcement.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m poison,” she said, slumping into the chair next to me. “No one wants to be around me.”
I pushed the laptop aside. “I want to be around you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Great.”
I took a calming breath and tried not to take her comment personally. “What do you mean?”
“Janie McClintock’s birthday party,” she moaned. “I’m not invited.”
A frown crossed my face. “I didn’t think you and Janie were that great of friends.”
“Well, we’re not. But that’s not the point,” she insisted.
“Okay. So what is the point?”
She tucked her chin to her chest and looked at me like I was a Neanderthal. Except I remembered that scientists had recently discovered that Neanderthals were actually probably capable of complex thought and communication so that analogy wouldn’t work anymore.
“That I wasn’t invited,” she informed me.
“Why would she have invited you if you aren’t friends?”
“Because she invited all of my friends,” she explained. She picked up a strand of hair and twirled it around her finger. “And because Carolyn told me she purposely didn’t invite me because we harbor dead bodies in our basement.”
“Coal chute,” I corrected. “We harbor them in our coal chute.”
“Not funny, Mom.”
“Sorry,” I said, thinking it was a little funny. “But if that’s honestly why she didn’t invite you, then you’re better off.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. Everyone knows Janie’s parties are awesome. They’re going roller skating.” Her shoulders rolled forward a little and her voice lowered. “And Nathan’s going.”
“Ah.” Suddenly, it all became crystal clear. “We’re back to Nathan, are we?”
She rested her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands. She reminded me of a sad puppy.
“He apologized,” she said. “To me. And said it was more about his parents than him.”
“Well, that sounds kind of nice.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “But guess who likes him?”
“Janie?”
“Yeah.” She sighed and picked up another strand of hair. “And she will totally wear some low-cut shirt at her party so he can see her boobs bounce all around while she skates.”
It still sort of freaked me out that my kid talked about other kids having boobs. And that she had a pair herself. Where had the time gone?
“If that’s what Nathan is interested in, then maybe we should move on from Nathan.”
She rolled her eyes again. “Mom. All of the boys like boobs. Jake probably likes boobs.”
Jake did, in fact, like boobs.
“Well, they don’t have them,” I reasoned. “I mean, they do, but the breasts on a man serve a different function. It’s normal for boys and men to be fascinated with them. And, if you think about it, they should have an attachment to them. An affinity. If they were breastfed
—”
Emily cut me off. “Got it, Mom.” Her cheeks were beet red. “The point is, she’s going to be there and he’s going to be there and I’m not.”
I remembered dating woes from high school. And, for once, I was glad that I was in my forties and that my teens were a distant, distant memory.
“So, have you considered that maybe you weren’t invited for another reason?” I asked.
She frowned at me. “Like what?”
“Like maybe she knows you like Nathan
—”
I didn’t think her cheeks could turn any redder but they did. “I didn’t say I liked him!”
“—and that she knows Nathan might like you—”
“Mom! He doesn’t! I mean, I don’t know if he does…”
“—and she doesn’t want you there because she likes him and wants to show off her boobs to him and you won’t be able to show off
your
boobs to him because you won’t be there?”
“Oh my God,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I don’t know why I tell you this stuff.”
“I’m just saying that there might be more at work here than you living in the murder pit,” I said. “Teenage girls are devious.”
“Were you?”
Her question caught me off guard. I’d gotten used to her huffing off when things got heated or embarrassing.
“I don’t think I was, but you know what? I probably was to some degree. It’s in our DNA. We can be terrible to one another. But I don’t think I was most of the time.”
She tapped her fingers on the table. “So you don’t think she didn’t invite me because of the dead guy?”
Double negative,” I reminded her. She frowned and I just smiled and continued. “It’s a possibility. But you aren’t friends with her, honey. Why would you expect to be invited in the first place?”
She sighed again. “I don’t know. But this sucks.”
I nodded. “It does. I’m sorry. Boys are frustrating and so are girlfriends. It’s gonna be like that for awhile, I’m afraid.”
“No,” she said, standing up and gathering her books. “I meant living in a murder pit.”