The Purloined Letter Opener Read online

  Turned out that Ellis was a man after Lydia’s heart—he requested black tea instead of coffee, then only wanted eggs, bacon, and a small serving of fruit salad. Lydia made sure to serve him her special tea, made up of a blend of English Breakfast with dried ginger, which gave it a rich, spicy flavor.

  Once the breakfast diners had cleared out, Misty came back into the kitchen to hang out with Lydia while she finished running the dishes through the sanitizer. Misty wore a smug smile which meant she had news. She was dressed that day in an off-white cotton shirt with tiny flowers done in stripes, along with a pair of casual brown slacks.

  “So it turns out Detective Avery is recently single,” Misty started off with. “It’s part of why he was assigned this case—his superiors thought that getting out of Yakima for a while would be good for him.”

  “And which cousin told you this?” Lydia teased.

  “None of them. I just asked the nice detective,” Misty said.

  “Really? He volunteered all that?” Lydia said, surprised. Ellis had seemed more close-mouthed than that when he’d been talking to her.

  “Well, I may have pushed a little, asking whether his wife would be joining him here on the weekend, and why he’d been assigned here,” Misty said. She arched an eyebrow at Lydia, as if to say, “See? That’s how it’s done.”

  Lydia shook her head. Only Misty could have asked those sorts of questions without offense, something she never seemed to appreciate.

  “He’ll only be here a short time,” Lydia said. “Then Lake Hope can get back to normal.”

  “We’ll see,” Misty said. “Things might feel a little different if the killer has been living among us the whole time.”

  “I know, right?” Lydia said. She couldn’t help the shiver she gave. “I want to feel safe in my hometown. Not as though I have to look over my shoulder all the time.”

  “Yes, but nobody was as hated as Schooner Thomas,” Misty pointed out.

  “Then why did someone stab him with one of my letter openers?” Lydia asked. That was the really bizarre part of the case, as someone killing Schooner Thomas was almost understandable.

  “I don’t know,” Misty said. “That’s the real mystery. But don’t you worry. I believe Detective Avery will uncover the truth quickly.”

  “I’m glad that you have such faith in the man,” Lydia said. Generally, Misty did have a good sense of people, and Lydia had grown to trust it. Though she had her own radar as well, well-honed now by dealing with tourists coming through constantly. She knew which people she would trust with her cash register and those who would rob her blind. Not that they had planned it, just a crime of opportunity.

  Misty didn’t reply immediately, but appeared to be thinking. “Although, it might be better if he took his time solving it.”

  “Why?” Lydia said. She knew what Misty was hinting at and wanted all of this conversation over as quickly and painlessly as possible.

  “So that you two have the opportunity to get to know each other,” Misty said. The unspoken duh resounded in the quiet kitchen.

  Lydia rolled her eyes. “Just because a handsome stranger has come into town doesn’t mean that we’re destined to be together.”

  “You think he’s handsome, huh?” Misty said.

  “Leave it be,” Lydia warned. She would not be teased about this. Not given the way her thoughts kept drifting back to the man.

  “Sure thing, boss,” Misty said, raising her hands in the classic “I give up” pose. “Guess I don’t need to point out the obvious, then.”

  Before Lydia could ask what she meant, Misty had ducked out of the kitchen. Lydia shook her head and went back to work, focusing on the job and not on whatever ridiculous future her co-worker had cooked up.

  Nor to her errant heart.

  11

  Just before lunch on Wednesday, Sergeant Gonzales texted Lydia to let her know that the police had found Bernard. He didn’t give her any more information than that, though Lydia suspected that if she asked Misty, she’d probably get a full and accurate account of where Bernard had been and why the police had had such difficulty getting in touch with him. Misty probably knew more than Sergeant Gonzales.

  Less than thirty minutes after Lydia received the text from the sergeant, Misty came bustling into the kitchen to announce that the news had finally been made public, that her sister had heard it on the radio. (Lake Hope wasn’t big enough to have its own radio station. However, there was a station that most people in town listened to. It was located on the eastern side of Yakima and had a signal strong enough to get over the hills that separated Lake Hope from the city.)

  “It’s about time,” Lydia said. Though she’d kept her word and hadn’t mentioned anything other than the detective coming to stay at the B&B, it had irked her more than she’d care to admit. She’d wanted to talk with Patrice about whoever might have stabbed Schooner. And possibly dish a little about the detective.

  More locals came in for lunch that day than usual—in addition to Dennis Solomon and Tracy Stevenson, Lydia saw Rusty Baker who ran the butcher shop, Kim Wang from the nail salon, and Mr. Ohme, who ran the local home and garden supply. Everyone had a theory as to how exactly Schooner Thomas had died, as well as who had killed him.

  Though Rusty and Kim strongly believed that the police should have opened up a hotline so that people could call in if they’d seen anyone suspicious in the area, Lydia privately doubted that would be necessary. Everyone in town would be free with their opinions with the sergeant and his deputy, of that Lydia had no doubt.

  It wasn’t until later that afternoon that Lydia was able to go see Patrice for an extended, therapeutic gossip session. Detective Avery hadn’t come back to the B&B for lunch. He’d probably ended up going to The Cove, with the other police officers. She didn’t take it as a personal slight. Not at all.

  The two friends met in the back of Patrice’s bakery. Grace was out making deliveries. Patrice was just finishing up mixing dough. She’d already taken the most recent batch of ginger-molasses cookies out of the oven. Lydia had to admit those might be her favorites, particularly when still warm. She was drinking iced decaf coffee that afternoon, and it made a lovely complement to the cookie.

  The lights at the back of the bakery were bright, shining off the spotless stainless steel countertops that ran around the edges of the room, as well as the huge island in the center. Lydia always admired how clean Patrice and Grace kept everything. Large industrial mixers sat next to the oversized sink on the far wall, like beasts all set to do their mistress’s bidding. The set of stainless steel refrigerator and freezer hummed to themselves in the corner, quietly radiating contentment. The door that led out to the alley was beside them, the lock and the jam reinforced with metal to prevent break-ins.

  Though the space wasn’t a home kitchen, Lydia had been back here often enough that it felt cozy to her, despite the modern appliances and hard metal edges. Patrice kept a couple of padded folding chairs in the kitchen, just so friends could sit and talk with her while she worked.

  “Tell me all the news about the case!” Patrice said as she slid the first batch of quick-bread cakes into the oven. She wore a tan apron to keep her blouse and shorts clean, along with her usual touches of makeup that made her appear all the more fabulous than she already was.

  Lydia told Patrice about the letter opener (something that hadn’t been mentioned in the news) and about Ellis Avery. By the time Lydia was finished, Patrice had finished cleaning her mixing bowls and was standing with her butt leaning against the center island, arms crossed over her chest, looking at Lydia.

  “Tell me more about this detective,” she said, peering intently at Lydia.

  “There’s not much to tell,” Lydia said hastily. “He’s from Yakima. Recently divorced, according to Misty.”

  “Hmmm,” Patrice said. “There’s something else about him. You like him, don’t you?”

  “He lives in Yakima,” Lydia said stubbornly. “I’m not in
terested in a long-distance relationship.”

  “You won’t actually know that until you try it,” Patrice said, shrugging.

  Patrice’s husband Dan drove a huge semi for a national shipping company. He primarily worked up and down the west coast, rarely making cross-country trips. He was frequently gone for two to five days at a time. Patrice said it worked out great for them, and that he was going to have to build himself a second house if he ever retired, as Patrice was too used to living on her own for days at a time.

  “He’ll be here and gone,” Lydia insisted. “Leave it, okay?”

  “All right,” Patrice said lightly, giving her a quick smile.

  That was one of the reasons why Patrice was such a good friend to Lydia—she wasn’t always insisting that Lydia needed to find someone. It was strange that she’d said anything about Ellis Avery.

  Unless her friend really had seen something in Lydia that Lydia was busy denying.

  “So why don’t you instead tell me about you and Theo?” Lydia asked.

  Patrice grinned at Lydia. “I was wondering when you’d get around to asking about that. A long, long time ago, back in high school, I may have had some sort of thing for your little brother.”

  “Really?” Lydia said. “I never knew!” The surprise made her sit up straighter in her chair, clutching the iced drink tighter in her hand.

  “You weren’t supposed to know,” Patrice said, turning serious. “I never wanted you to doubt our friendship, that I was coming over to your house just to see Theo and not you. I kept the relationships strictly separate.”

  “You were in a relationship with Theo?” Lydia said. She couldn’t have been more shocked. Not unless Patrice suddenly stripped off all her makeup and suddenly appeared homely and common.

  “No, not really,” Patrice said. “I was interested. He was, but he wasn’t.” She sighed. “There was more that happened, but I promised him I would never tell anyone. And I never have.”

  Lydia stared at her friend, stymied. She’d always known that Patrice would keep her word. It was one of the things her friend valued above anything else—being considered trustworthy.

  “I won’t ask you about anything more, then,” Lydia said slowly.

  Patrice gave her a huge smile. “Thank you. What I can tell you is that Theo had reasons for hating Schooner Thomas, more than the rest of us, because of what happened in high school.”

  Lydia sat frozen for a few moments, cup of coffee in her hand halfway to her lips. She thought back furiously to when she’d been a teenager. Did she remember anything happening with Theo and Principal Thomas? She shook her head and sipped her coffee, the chilled drink adding more goosebumps across her shoulders, despite the warmth of the ovens in the kitchen. No, she didn’t remember anything. She’d been too caught up in her own teenaged drama.

  “I can’t tell you anything else,” Patrice said. “You should ask him. He might finally be ready to tell you, now.”

  “It wasn’t anything horrible, was it?” Lydia asked, her brain immediately leaping to the worst-case scenario, as always. “Like, abuse?” She didn’t want to think about her little brother being abused while his big sister did absolutely nothing.

  “No, no, no,” Patrice assured her. “Nothing like that. Principal Thomas may have been a bigoted, misogynistic jerk, but he wasn’t a child abuser.”

  “Good,” Lydia said, taking a deep breath. She knew that small towns always had a lot of secrets, especially someplace that appeared as peaceful as Lake Hope did on the surface.

  “So, who do you think killed Schooner Thomas?” Lydia asked, turning back to the speculation that everyone was chatting about.

  “It could have been anyone, really,” Patrice said. “But I don’t think Theo did it.”

  Lydia blinked, surprised. She hadn’t even considered that her brother might be guilty of such a thing. Then again, he’d changed over the last few years. She remembered how hollow he’d seemed when she’d first seen him. As if nothing was left inside.

  “I’d never even considered him!” Lydia said. Really, Theo? No, that didn’t make any sense.

  “I know the timing’s right,” Patrice said seriously. “He’d just come into town. And your parents aren’t here to account for his whereabouts.”

  “You don’t think he’s a suspect, do you?” Lydia asked. She couldn’t vouch for him either. How could she protect him? Be the big sister she’d never been?

  Patrice shrugged. “The police probably consider everyone a suspect. At least for now. You said they don’t have an exact time of death yet?”

  “I don’t know,” Lydia said. “I bet if I asked Misty, I could find out.”

  “She’s got cousins in the Yakima coroner’s office, doesn’t she?” Patrice said with a grin.

  “Cousin, in-law, something,” Lydia said. It was one of the advantages of working with Misty—Lydia always knew what was going on with everyone in town. Frequently, any three counties if she had a few hours to check.

  The two friends chatted a bit longer before Lydia had to get back to the B&B, to be there for her first guests. She gave Patrice a hug before she left. All this talk of Schooner’s death and her brother had unsettled her. It was so nice to have a solid friend who didn’t hold back, but who hugged her and held her until Lydia felt more grounded.

  That was the one thing that Lydia missed: having a partner who held her.

  While walking back to the B&B, Lydia texted her brother and invited him to the wine tasting she was planning Friday night. It would make her parents happy that she’d thought to invite him.

  Even if she had ulterior motives and was intending to give him the third degree about what had happened between him and Schooner Thomas.

  12

  “I had to go to the police station!” Alice announced when she came into the laundry room of the B&B Thursday afternoon.

  “Really?” Lydia asked, surprised. Surely no one suspected Alice of killing Schooner Thomas? That would require a lot more planning than Alice was capable of. Wouldn’t it? She handed Alice a warm sheet from the dryer as she pulled out another towel for herself to fold. The other dryer was still running its load, a familiar hum in the otherwise quiet room. The smell of fresh, warm cotton reminded Lydia of her mom and her claim that laundry was her artform, making her smile.

  “The police asked me about Schooner,” Alice said, automatically starting to fold up the sheet. “Why I didn’t like him.”

  “Did you tell them the truth? About what he said about you?” Lydia said.

  “I did!” Alice said. “He was mean to me. All the time.”

  “I wish you would have told me,” Lydia said. “I would have told him that he couldn’t come here anymore.”

  “I told Mama,” Alice said. “She said not to tell you. She didn’t want you losing any customers.”

  Lydia pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t reply. She was going to have a talk with Jen McGowen later, when Alice wasn’t there. Lydia could well have afforded to lose a customer like Schooner Thomas.

  She also really wanted to know if there was someone else not being nice to Alice. She would be happy to lose another customer rather than Alice.

  “The nice detective asked about the eggs,” Alice admitted. “Someone saw me go to old Schooner’s house. It was Friday night. I couldn’t remember if it had been Friday or Saturday.”

  A cold shiver of fear ran down Lydia’s back, despite the warmth of the pillowcase in her hands. “So a neighbor saw you go to Schooner Thomas’s house?”

  “They did,” Alice nodded solemnly as she started folding another sheet. “They saw me go there and not leave.”

  “But you didn’t go into the house, right?” Lydia said. The police surely would have dusted for fingerprints or something. That was something cops did. Right?

  “That’s right! I told them that.” Alice finished her sheet and put it on the counter next to Lydia’s stack of towels. “I was telling the truth,” she said in a very quie
t voice. “I’m not sure they believed me.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” Lydia said automatically. No one would think Alice capable. Right?

  “The detective did ask me to show them how strong I am,” Alice said with a sudden grin. “I liked showing them that. I’m very strong!”

  “Yes, yes you are,” Lydia said, now more worried. According to Misty, the coroner believed that there had been an altercation in the house. Schooner had fallen or been pushed over, then smothered with a pillow.

  Whoever held Schooner down would have to have been very strong. Plus, after he’d been smothered, someone had stabbed the letter opener into his chest. Again, it would have taken a lot of strength to do that as the opener was so blunt.

  “Mama said it was good to tell them the truth,” Alice said. “That the truth was the right thing. And Mitch said that I’m a Person of Interest!”

  “Did Mitch hear that on his scanner?” Lydia said. That seemed unlikely. The police wouldn’t just announce that where everyone could hear it, would they?

  “No. He knows all about police stuff. It’s for his book,” Alice told her. “He explained the booking procedure and everything!”

  “Wait. They didn’t arrest you, did they?” Lydia said, suddenly confused.

  “They told Mama we couldn’t go on vacation,” Alice said. “But we could go on picnics.”

  “I’m glad you can still go on picnics with your family,” Lydia said. She cringed at the excited look on Alice’s face, instantly regretting her words.

  “You could come with us! Next Wednesday,” Alice said. “So we don’t work all the time.”

  “Maybe,” Lydia said. She did want to talk with Jen McGowen, and possibly to Mitch as well, about whether or not other customers of hers were being mean to Alice.

  The pair of them finished folding the clean laundry, then walked up the stairs to change over some of the rooms. Lydia kept thinking about the case, though.

  No one would believe that Alice was capable of killing someone like Schooner Thomas. Right?