Crowned and Moldering

Finally she excused herself and latched onto my arm as we left the sitting room. We walked down the hall to the kitchen, where Jane grabbed a small tray and filled it with a basket of crackers, a plate of cheese, and a bowl of olives. Then she practically dragged me up the stairs and into the sitting room of her private suite.

She opened a bottle of wine from her small stash on the shelf, poured two glasses, and handed me one.

As soon as I sat down on the love seat, she said, “What happened to you? You look terrible.”

“Sadly, you’re not the first person to notice.”

“Really?” She sat in the chair across from me.

“Yeah, Emily said something similar yesterday. I guess I should appreciate your honesty.”

“Don’t be a dolt. You always look ravishing, but I can tell something’s wrong. Spill it.”

I took a serious gulp of wine and grabbed a few crackers. Then I unloaded on my best friend and told her everything, starting with finding Lily’s bones and dealing with Sean’s pain. I went into my long interview with Eric and how I ran into Mr. Jones. I ranted on about Dismal Dain and my hope that he would spend time in jail. And I ended with my feelings of horror at the thought that Whitney and Cliff Hogarth might be in cahoots.

“You’ve been busy,” Jane said mildly, relaxing in the overstuffed chintz chair.

“That’s one way to spin it,” I said with a sheepish smile. “Switching topics, I saw Emily last night. She seems pretty happy in her new house.”

“I ran into her at the market a few days ago. But let’s not change the subject just yet.”

“But I’m so tired of whining about me.”

“Have you talked to Tommy?”

I had to think about it as I took another sip of wine. “Not since I saw him at the mansion on Monday. Why?”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Sha

“No, my pain is just a happy consequence.”

She reached out and squeezed my hand. “Talk to Tommy.”

“I hate to be a snitch.” I grimaced at the memory of Whitney accusing me of being that very thing.

“Oh, please.” Jane brushed my words aside. “Who cares? This is a good-faith contract between Tommy and your dad we’re talking about here. The fact is, Whitney’s pulling something on you, and Tommy needs to fix it right away.” She grabbed her wineglass. “So think about it. There must be all sorts of reasons why you’d be at City Hall and happen to run into Tommy in the parking lot. And when you see him, you can be the snitch you always wanted to be.” She took a sip of her wine. “Besides, if the work is done on his house and you’re not there, don’t you think he’ll notice?”

I laughed, but Jane was right. City Hall shared a parking lot with the police department. It would be easy to track down Tommy and pretend I just happened to be passing by. But what would I tell him? I didn’t want to whine to Tommy about Cliff Hogarth. There had to be a way. . . .

Then a simple yet brilliant idea struck. I jumped up from my chair and did a little happy dance. “I know what I’m going to do. Yay! Thank you.” I leaned down and squeezed her knees. “You’re a genius.”

“I am,” she said, gri

“I will, I promise. I need to think it through first, but it’ll work—I’m sure of it.” I sank down into the chair and sighed contentedly. “I feel so much better now.”

“Good.” She finished her wine. “I’d feel better, too, if we went out for pasta.”

*   *   *

The next morning was Saturday, and I worked for a few hours at Emily’s house, scraping more wallpaper off the living room walls. I think the stuff was alive and reproducing in the night, because I never seemed to make much progress. But I didn’t really care. Basically I just needed more time to think, and lately wallpaper was my go-to drudge work that gave me the opportunity.

At noon, I took a lunch break and drove to the police department, taking a chance that Tommy might be working that day. At the front counter, I asked the desk officer if Tommy was around. “You bet, Sha

A minute later, Tommy walked out and greeted me with a hug.

“How are you?”

“I’m great. I came by to drop off the blueprints.”

He looked around. “What blueprints?”

“The ones for your house,” I said with every strand of i

“Why?”

I batted my eyelashes virtuously. “Because Whitney said Cliff Hogarth would need them to do the work on your powder room.”

“Cliff Hogarth?” His eyes narrowed. “Powder room? Wait. Aren’t you doing the work?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Well, huh.” He scratched his head. “Hmm. Okay, I guess I was supposed to ask you when you’d have time to do it, but . . . shoot. With everything that’s happened since finding the skeleton and all, it must’ve slipped my mind. But you’ll do it, right?”

“You know I’d love to. But Whitney told me she hired Cliff to do the job. That’s why he needs the blueprints.”

Tommy clenched his jaw. He hated conflict, so I knew he was aggravated. “Sha

I patted his arm. “It’s totally understandable that she’d forget, what with all she has to do every day.”

“I know,” he said, relaxing slightly. “She never stops.”

“You’re so lucky.” I pulled my keys out of my purse. “Okay, I’ll be happy to do the work. Just let me check my calendar and I’ll get back to you with some dates when we can meet to discuss exactly what you’d like to have done.”

“Great. Super.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Thanks, Sha

“No problem, Tommy. I’ll talk to you later.” I gave him a big hug and a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek and walked out smiling. With any luck, Whitney would hear all about that kiss.

*   *   *

An hour later, back at Emily’s, I held the steaming iron against the wallpaper and thought about Tommy and his reaction to the news that his wife had tried to hire Cliff Hogarth. Tommy was possibly the mildest-ma

And I didn’t feel a single ounce of remorse for manipulating the situation toward my own ends.

Why should I? Yes, Tommy would try to read Whitney the riot act, but she would make up some excuse and wind up wrapping him around her little finger all over again. But that didn’t mean she would get her way when it came to hiring Cliff as their new contractor. Tommy and my father had shaken hands on the deal all those years ago, and Tommy was too honorable a man—despite Whitney—to ever go back on his word.

Besides, I thought, this isn’t even about Tommy and Whitney. This is about getting back at Cliff Hogarth, who has apparently decided it would be fun to ruin my life.

*   *   *

Sunday morning, our town Festival Committee met at my house to put the finishing touches on the St. Patrick’s Day parade and Spring Festival scheduled for three weeks from now. We had tried to find another day to meet, but the festivities were fast approaching, and this Sunday was the only time we were all available.

I made everyone happy by serving bagels and cream cheese with a pretty platter of fruit.

Lighthouse Cove was becoming famous for its festivals and parades. We had something scheduled every month, and the whole town got involved. Last year Jane and I had volunteered to work on the committee, already comprised of Ellie Stewart, Pat Miles, and Sylvia Davis, all of whom we’d known for years. The five of us had been having so much fun putting the events together, it didn’t feel like work at all.