To Thine Own Self Be True Page 17

  I fought down a laugh. “Better than that. He was here.”

  “No way.”

  “Way. He stopped in on his way home from New York.”

  She goggled at me. “Tell me everything. Is he still hunkier than the Olympic swim team?”

  “It was winter. I didn’t see him in a Speedo.”

  “Too bad. So are you…together?”

  I stopped laughing. “You tell me how that can happen, and I’ll consider it.”

  “What do you mean how it can happen. It just happens.”

  “I move to Virginia? He moves up here? It’s impossible.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “You’re impossible. He obviously came here for a reason.”

  “Yeah. To mess me up.”

  She stood. “Give me a break. You have the most gorgeous man since Adonis coming after you and you can’t figure things out? He was pretty darn nice, too, calling to check up on you this summer.”

  “He could’ve called me.”

  “And you would’ve told him what? ‘Leave me alone, you stinking developer’?”

  I stopped before saying anything else. Of course she was right. That’s probably what I would’ve said.

  “So instead of yelling at me for keeping it a secret,” Carla said, “you should be thanking me for making sure you didn’t blow it.”

  I let out a huff of breath and was glaring at her when the office door opened. Queenie lunged to her feet, trotting to Tess.

  “Mom wants to know if you’re ready for lunch, and if Carla wants to join us,” Tess said.

  Carla looked me in the eye. “Am I welcome?”

  I thought about it. “I guess. Sure.”

  “Then one more question.” She turned to Tess. “Did your mom cook something, or is this one of Stella’s shove-whatever-you-can-find-down-your-throat days?”

  Tess made a face. “What?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Never mind.”

  “My mom made hot turkey sandwiches,” Tess said. “With gravy.”

  Carla considered this. “Dessert?”

  Tess lifted a shoulder.

  “I’m sure there will be some,” I said.

  “Well, okay then,” Carla said. “I’ll stay.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The roads were dry as I made my way toward North Wales, and they looked washed out, speckled with a coat of salt. The snow along the road was even dirtier than the day before, and it hadn’t even begun to melt. Lovely.

  It was nice having Carla with us at lunch. She hadn’t been around for a while, other than to check the cows, and I’d forgotten how funny she was about good food. I was even close to forgiving her for the whole phone call with Nick incident. When we were done eating she went off to work while I went out to my truck.

  I pulled up in front of the Spurgeons’ house and fought a wave of depression. Only a day after Christmas, and the decorations spread over their house and lawn felt suffocating and dreary. The exact opposite effect they’d had only days before. The blow-up snowmen drooped with exhaustion, and I had to step to the side to avoid colliding with the sagging Grinch. The reindeer no longer moved, the colored lights no longer blinked, and the life-like cow in the nativity scene lay on its side. I refrained from checking out the sleigh and wreath on the roof.

  Mickey and the rottweilers answered the door, and Mickey peered over my shoulder. “No Rusty today?”

  “Uh, no. I really wanted to speak with Jewel, if I could.”

  He shrugged. “Sure. She’s in here.”

  He led me through the front hallway to the kitchen, the dogs accompanying us, stumbling around Mickey’s feet. Jewel was in the bright room, loading the dishwasher. The air smelled of turkey leftovers, just like my kitchen an hour before.

  Jewel looked up and hesitated for a moment before placing a casserole dish on the dishwasher shelf and sliding it in. Her butterfly stood out brilliantly on her pale cheek, and I knew there was no way Tank had mistaken it.

  “She wants to talk to you,” Mickey said to his wife. “I’ll be outside, if you need me.”

  We watched him head back toward the front door, where he opened the closet and began pulling out a coat and boots.

  “Christmas decorations?” I asked Jewel.

  She nodded. “They need to go.”

  Mickey closed the front door behind him, and Jewel gestured toward the table, where I pulled out a chair and sat diagonally across from her. I looked at her, not sure how to start. How do you ask a woman if she’s been cheating on her husband with his best friend?

  I took off my gloves and put them on the table, playing for time.

  “What is it?” she asked. Her fingers picked at the tablecloth.

  I cleared my throat. “I found Tank. Matthew Snyder. The guy who was at Wolf’s place right before…”

  She nodded. “Before. Did he…do it?”

  I looked away, out the back window, at the snow covered, postage-stamp sized yard. “I don’t think so. He didn’t even seem to know about it. But I guess he could’ve been faking.”

  We were quiet for a bit.

  “So why are you here?” she finally asked. “If you don’t really have news?”

  I shifted back toward her. “He told me something I have a hard time believing.”

  Her eyebrows rose.

  “And before I tell the cops,” I said, “I want to ask you about it.”

  “Me? What could he say that I could help with? I don’t even know him.”

  I swallowed. “He says the cops should be checking out Wolf’s other woman.”

  Color immediately rose in her cheeks. “What? Wolf didn’t…Wolf wouldn’t…”

  “Tank says he saw her.”

  Jewel shut her mouth, her eyes flashing with anger. “Who is she? If it’s true, I’ll…I’ll… Wolf would never do that. Not to Mandy.”

  “But Jewel, Tank says it was you.”

  She stopped talking, her eyes wide. “Me?” She gaped at me. “That’s crazy. I would never… Besides, this Tank guy wouldn’t know who I am.”

  “But he saw that.” I pointed at her face, and she put a hand to her butterfly. “Tank took his girlfriend to the Bay Pony Inn, and Wolf was there. With you.”

  She looked at me blankly for a moment before her face relaxed, and she began to laugh. She laughed so hard tears ran down her face. It wasn’t a fun laugh. I almost slapped her to snap her out of it, but before I could, she jumped up and ran to the front door.

  “Mick,” she hollered. “Mick, come here.”

  He came to the door and she pulled him into the kitchen, his boots tracking snow through the hall. “Someone told her Wolf and I were having an affair because they saw us at the Bay Pony Inn. She came here to ask me about it.”

  A series of emotions flitted across Mickey’s face, until he ended up with amusement.

  “What?” I said.

  “Tell her,” Mickey said.

  “No, hon, you tell her.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “We get together every Friday night with Wolf and Mandy.” He hesitated, probably realizing that tradition had now changed. “That Friday I came down with something. Cough, fever, you know. So of course I couldn’t go. I didn’t want Jewel to miss out, though, so she went without me. She got to the restaurant, and here Wolf was alone. Mandy was home with Billy, who probably had the same thing I had, and she didn’t want Wolf to miss out. So there they were, Jewel and Wolf, at the Bay Pony Inn. Funny, really.”

  Hilarious.

  “It was nice,” Jewel said. “I hardly ever get to talk to Wolf. He usually talks to Mick, and I talk to Mandy, you know, about stuff.” They looked at me, their faces half amused, half destroyed at the thought of their friends.

  I felt like an idiot.

  I stood up. “I’m sorry. I told you I didn’t believe it. That’s why I didn’t tell the cops.”

  Mickey raised his eyebrows. “You were going to?”
r />   “If it was true.”

  They watched as I slid my gloves back onto my hands.

  “But it’s not.”

  And now I could stop feeling so guilty about not telling Shisler.

  “No, it’s certainly not,” Jewel said. She slipped her hand around Mickey’s elbow.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  Mickey smiled. “Don’t be. We’re glad somebody’s looking out for Wolf.” He stopped smiling, and I was sure he was thinking the same thing I was.

  Someone, somewhere, definitely wasn’t looking out for Wolf.

  And we had to find him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I had just hung my coat in my front closet when the doorbell rang. Detective Shisler stood on the front steps, her nose pink.

  I sucked in my breath. “You found Wolf?”

  She shook her head. “Wish I had. Can I come in for a minute?”

  I stepped back. “Sure.”

  I closed the door behind her, and she rubbed her arms for warmth. “Goodness, it’s cold.”

  “We’ve got a fire!” Tess announced from behind me, making me jump.

  Shisler glanced into the living room. “So I see. I’d love to sit in front of it.”

  I took her coat and hat and hung them in the closet, then joined her on the sofa, where Tess was introducing the detective to Smoky.

  After a minute, I leaned in. “Tess, Detective Shisler needs to talk with me about something for a little bit, okay?”

  Tess lifted her shoulder. “Okay.”

  “Here,” Shisler said, handing her Smoky. “I’m sure your cat would rather be with you than with me.”

  Tess’ eyes took on a nurturing glaze, and she scooped up her kitten. “She thinks I’m her mother,” she whispered to Shisler. “I’ll wait till she’s older to tell her I’m not.”

  “Good plan,” Shisler said.

  We watched as Tess squatted to pick up her new Abby Hayes book from the coffee table and disappeared into the front room.

  “Cute,” Shisler said.

  “Yup.”

  She shifted on the sofa, turning toward me, and said, “You know, I’m glad Billy has his grandmother to be with, but it’s just not good enough. The boy needs his father.” She paused, her eyes betraying her frustration. “I’ve been over everything and can’t get any kind of read on what happened. The snowstorm obliterated any evidence from the evening Mr. Moore disappeared and Mrs. Moore was murdered, and there are no signs anywhere that Mr. Moore ever planned on leaving. Nothing that might lend a clue as to where he went, or with whom.”

  “He didn’t—”

  “I know he didn’t leave voluntarily. At least, I believe it. But every lead we get has either no solid footing or goes nowhere at all. I’ve got the DA breathing down my neck, and the lead Montgomery County detective watching my every move. It’s a miracle I escaped him today.”

  “So are you here as a hideout? Or is there something you wanted? I’ve told you everything I know.” As of a half hour ago. “Except that Senator Farley might not be so gung-ho on his tattoo bill as we’d all thought.” I explained what Gloria Frizzoni had told me just that morning.

  Shisler thought about that. “I’ll check into it. See if my political connections can come up with anything. But no.” Her lips twitched. “I didn’t come here for a hideout. I wanted to see if you had anything else. Or had decided to tell me what you’ve been holding back.” She looked at me knowingly, and my cheeks burned.

  I looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded. “Just tell me now, please.”

  “It’s old news.”

  “That’s all right.”

  I told her the story, how Tank had told me about Jewel—backing up Gentleman John’s unlikely story—and how I’d talked to her. And how it had ended up. “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  If I had to apologize one more time that day, I’d probably just go up to my room and not come down till tomorrow.

  She pinched her lips together. “It turned out okay this time. But please, don’t let there be a next time.”

  “Okay.”

  She sagged into the couch cushions. “It’s not like I put a whole lot of faith in things people like Mr. Snyder and Mr. Greene say. Well, Mr. Snyder hadn’t mentioned it, yet, for some reason. But I was hoping the other woman thing might actually be a road to explore.”

  “I wish I had more to tell you,” I said. “Give you more to go on.”

  She waved her hand. “No, no. You’re not responsible for giving me leads.”

  Just for leaving Mandy out in the snow and allowing Wolf to be kidnapped.

  Shisler stood. “And anyway, you did give me one. That woman.” She glanced at her notebook. “Frizzoni. I’ll check out her allegations. I’d better get back to the station, anyway. The head honcho will wonder where I’ve gone off to. Heavens. I might be following up a lead without him.”

  I retrieved her coat from the closet and as she buttoned it up, she said, “I hope I have news for you soon.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Me, too.”

  After she shut the door I made sure Lucy was off the phone, went on-line, and checked my e-mail. Nothing. Not even an advertisement to enlarge my boobs or sell me misspelled drugs. I sent another e-mail to Senator Farley and yet another to Dennis Bergman. Dammit, if neither one was going to write me back, I would hound them till they did.

  We were in the middle of milking when the phone rang. I hesitated to answer long enough that Lucy ran to the office and picked it up. It could be any number of people: Nick, Senator Farley, Detective Shisler, saying they found Wolf…

  “Stella?” Lucy called from the hallway. “Dennis Bergman.”

  I stood up. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  I went to the office and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Crown, this is Dennis Bergman. You sent me an e-mail, asking about Mandy Moore and Senator Farley.”

  “Yes. Thanks for calling.”

  “Could we get together to talk?”

  I sank against the wall. I just wanted to ask the man a few questions. We didn’t need an appointment. “Can’t we just talk right now?”

  “I’d appreciate a face-to-face meeting. We need to discuss some rather sensitive issues.”

  Well, then. “All right. Tonight?”

  “Tomorrow. Breakfast?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Harrisburg.”

  “Then it’ll have to be a late breakfast. I’m done milking around eight, and it’ll take me two or so hours to get there.”

  “Let’s make it ten o’clock. I’ll meet you halfway. There’s a restaurant in Morgantown called the Windmill Family Restaurant. Can you find it?”

  “I’m sure I can. It’s pretty near the turnpike?”

  “Pretty near, but not right off the exit.”

  “I’ll find it. See you then.”

  He hung up, and I stared at the phone, not sure what I’d finally said to gain his attention.

  “What’s up with the tattoo artist-lawyer?” Lucy asked when I returned to the parlor.

  “He wants to meet tomorrow, to talk about the bill.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Right. But why do we have to meet? Why couldn’t he just talk on the phone?” I walked back into the aisle, where I switched the milker from Mulan to Jasmine. Why would Dennis Bergman want to meet me? I hadn’t made myself that much of a pain in the ass, unless you counted e-mails and one phone message at his shop. Maybe he really cared about Mandy. Wanted to help how he could. He was part of the tattoo community, after all.

  “You going?” Lucy asked.

  “Yeah. Meeting him at ten in Morgantown.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

  “The Windmill Family Restaurant.”

  She grinned. “Try not to spend too much on those Amish knick-knacks.”


  “Yeah, right.”

  She turned to walk toward the calf pen. “Should be interesting, at least, seeing what he has to say.”

  “Should be.”

  And perhaps I might even get a little closer to finding Wolf.

  We finished up with the milking and headed inside, where Lucy had cooked up some turkey soup with the leftovers we hadn’t yet eaten. Bread, fresh from the oven, had the house smelling like heaven, and I couldn’t help but wonder what Mandy’s heaven smelled like. Would it be the aroma of bread? Roses? Or perhaps something else, like the cleaning solutions in her beloved Wolf Ink?

  Lucy and I were cleaning up the supper dishes, almost ready to eat the apple pie she had made that afternoon in-between her phone calls, when Tess cocked her head, perched her chin on her hands, and looked at me.

  “Stella, how come you’re so sad?”

  I paused halfway between table and sink, my hands full of soup bowls. Lucy stilled, too, her knife poised above the pie.

  “What makes you think I’m sad?” I asked.

  She shrugged one small shoulder. “You’re just… different.”

  I carefully rinsed the dishes, placed them in the dishwasher, and turned around to lean against the counter. I’d been sad the entire time I’d known Tess. Ever since Howie died. Obviously she realized something more was happening now, even though we’d tried to shelter her. So how did I explain the past week to Tess? Should I tell an eight-year-old that someone died? That someone else is missing?

  “Is it because of us?” Tess asked, before I could speak. “Because Mom’s marrying Lenny?”

  Oh.

  Tess’ eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and I felt Lucy’s gaze on the side of my face. I walked to the table and sat in the chair beside Tess.

  “I’m happy for you,” I said. “I’m happy for your mom, and for Lenny, too. It’s the right thing for you. You’re going to be a family.”

  That I’m not going to be a part of.

  “So yes, I’m sad you won’t be living with me anymore. But I’m not sad that your mom—and you—made this choice.”

  She sniffled and wiped her nose with her hand. Lucy leaned over and handed her a napkin, which Tess took, but didn’t use. “So you’re not mad at us?”