Gwen pursed her lips for a second and then said in a clipped voice, “I don’t say that I do remember. But my memory isn’t very good.”

  Beatrice injected smoothly, “What about Oscar Holland? Do you remember him?”

  A telling bit of red crept up from Gwen’s purple collar. “Who? Was he also someone who lived here a long time ago?”

  “No. He’s someone who was visiting here recently. Until he was killed. You couldn’t miss him. He looked like an explorer. Tall, thin, had a beard? Wore a khaki jacket and a brimmed hat?” asked Beatrice.

  Gwen shook her head quickly, but she didn’t look at Beatrice.

  “Are you sure?” pushed Beatrice softly. “Are you sure that he didn’t knock on your door and ask you a bunch of questions about Vivian? Someone mentioned he was at your house.”

  Gwen glanced furtively around her as if the entire group of service-oriented quilters were giving her the third degree. Satisfied that no one else was listening, she whispered furiously, “I’ve already talked to Ramsay and his group of policemen. I understood that he was being professional and keeping this quiet.”

  Meadow said quickly, “Oh, Ramsay has nothing to do with this. You see, I do have an excellent memory and I recall that you were friends with Vivian back then. So it’s only natural we should ask you what you remember.”

  Beatrice hoped that Meadow had her fingers crossed as she fibbed.

  “Friends with Vivian?” scoffed Gwen. “Your memory clearly stinks. I said the same thing to that man.” She stopped abruptly, looking irritated with herself for having acknowledged Oscar.

  Meadow said in a chatty voice, “Well, you know, Vivian and I weren’t really friends either. Not that I had anything against Vivian. It’s just that it was a very busy time for me then. I was engaged to Ramsay and planning a wedding is so time-consuming. Do you remember how time-consuming it was?”

  Gwen’s face was grim. “I don’t think back on my wedding planning or marriage with any warm, fuzzy feelings.”

  Meadow looked momentarily startled before quickly moving on. “Still, who knows? Maybe I wouldn’t have even been friends with Vivian if I had had the time to get to know her. What made you upset with her?”

  Gwen took a deep breath as if she were hanging onto her patience by a thread. “What upset me was her complete and utter lack of morality.” Her lips tightened into a stern line.

  Beatrice asked, “Can you be more specific than that?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” snarled Gwen.

  Wyatt was free from chatting with the quilters and was moving in their direction. Beatrice said in a rush, “If you’re not willing to talk about what you’ve got against her, can you speak on who else might not have liked Vivian?”

  Gwen pulled the strap of her purse up onto her shoulder. “Jake had good reason to dislike her,” she said in a catty tone.

  “Jake? Jake who?” asked Beatrice desperately.

  “Jake Hunter,” said Gwen before pushing past them and resolutely heading up the stairs to exit the church.

  Meadow and Beatrice stared at each other for a second. “You’ll have to fill me in on that marriage,” said Beatrice under her breath.

  Wyatt joined them and said brightly to Beatrice, “Ready to go eat?”

  Beatrice was relieved that Wyatt had been in cooking mode when they arrived at her house. She mainly watched as he put together an omelet and flipped pancakes. She filled him in on her conversation with Gwen.

  Wyatt gave her a sympathetic glance as she set the table for them. “Gwen can be a difficult person sometimes,” he said. “Although I believe beneath that gruff exterior is really a loving person with a heart of gold.”

  Beatrice said, “Well, she certainly hides it well. And I do think that you tend to think the best of everyone.”

  Wyatt smiled at her. “Not as much as you think. But I might know more about the behind-the-scenes people in the community, including Gwen. Sometimes their public faces are different from their private ones. Take Gwen, for instance. She was at a service project meeting for the sole purpose of doing good. She doesn’t particularly enjoy being around other people.”

  “I noticed,” said Beatrice dryly.

  “So her only motivation was to do something nice for someone else.”

  Beatrice said, “Have you got any insight on her marriage? She seemed not to want to talk about it.”

  “I can’t talk about anything I know through my pastoral care. But it might be enough for you to know that she and her husband divorced many years ago. He’s passed away now, as a matter of fact. But that’s all public knowledge,” said Wyatt, carefully putting the omelets, bacon, and pancakes on plates for them.

  Beatrice wasn’t sure that she bought this generous portrait of Gwen, but decided to give herself some time to digest the idea. And time to take a few bites of Wyatt’s meal. The omelet and pancakes were perfectly fluffy and the bacon was just the crispiness she preferred.

  “This is delicious,” she said, smiling at him.

  “Thanks. I enjoy cooking, I just don’t get a lot of opportunity to experiment as much as I’d like.” He took a sip of his wine and then said, “I’m trying to remember everything I knew about Vivian Hastings. It’s been a while. Ramsay was asking me to try and come up with small details.”

  Beatrice raised her eyebrows. “Does this mean that he thinks Vivian has met up with foul play? After all, I hear that he’s planning on dredging the lake.”

  “At least he thinks it’s an option, I suppose. Maybe his efforts to locate Vivian weren’t fruitful. All I could remember were personality traits. I can’t recall any specific reasons why she might have been or felt threatened in any way.”

  “What were her personality traits?” asked Beatrice.

  “She was nice. I liked her,” said Wyatt. “But I could also see where her appearance in town could have been jarring to some people. She wasn’t used to the pace of life here. She was brisk and forward. She said what she thought in an open way that was likely off-putting to some residents. I could tell that she was having a hard time fitting in here and so I invited her to come to church.”

  Beatrice polished off her pancakes. “How did that go?”

  “Vivian seemed to me to be fitting in all right,” he said slowly. “I’d encouraged her to not just attend services, but to attend some smaller groups like Bible study and Sunday school. I’d thought that she was starting to make connections with people.”

  “Maybe she was,” said Beatrice. “But maybe they weren’t good ones.”

  Chapter Nine

  Jake is starting to be another problem. He’s not a bad guy, of course. He’s got a fun sense of humor, even if it can border on goofy sometimes. He makes me laugh—a good thing because lately I could use some laughter.

  But what he doesn’t seem to understand is that I need a friend. I’ve tried to hint that I’d love to go out with him ... as a friend. I always see a flash of hurt in his eyes before he resolutely continues on just as flirty as before. I guess I’m just going to have to make it clearer to him.

  Beatrice called Meadow first thing the next morning. Meadow had apparently been sleeping in.

  “Sorry,” said Meadow, yawning. “It was a disruptive night last night.”

  Beatrice frowned. “Were there any more developments last night? Did Ramsay come and go?”

  “Oh, gosh, I forgot to tell you, which is hard to believe. But then, I guess I didn’t find out about it until much later, when Ramsay checked in with me.”

  Beatrice kept her impatience in check with difficulty. “Find out about what?”

  “While we were having our service project meeting, Ramsay’s team discovered a body in the lake. It was weighted down with bricks. So sad,” said Meadow. “I guess that’s why her body never came to light, even when we had a drought. Because the lake got pretty low during the droughts, you know.”

  “The body was Vivian’s?” asked Beatrice, suddenly feeling breathless.

  “We’re guessing. But there will have to be confirmation on that. Her dental records are still at the dentist’s downtown, so it should be easy to check out. That dentist has been here for a million years. Anyway, it was probably after ten o’clock when Ramsay finally got back home and told me. It just stuck in my brain and I couldn’t fall asleep to save my life. Just kept tossing and turning.”

  “What’s he doing now?” asked Beatrice. “Is he contacting Vivian’s relatives?”

  “The whole thing is sort of sad. She really didn’t have any relatives. She had an elderly aunt that she was close to, but the aunt passed away before she moved to Dappled Hills. I guess that’s why the murderer was so lucky. No one reported her missing. No one missed her birthday or Christmas phone call, or insisted on checking in with the police at her last address. We all thought she’d gotten tired of the town and left, and she was here all the while,” said Meadow.

  She sounded like she was getting choked up. Beatrice said quickly, to keep her from breaking down totally, “It was foul play, though? At least, that’s what the police are thinking so far?”

  “That’s right. Her skull was fractured and that appears to be the cause of death. So it wasn’t as if she went for a dip in the lake and accidentally drowned.” A gusty sigh on Meadow’s end.

  Beatrice said, “I’m sorry, Meadow. I know it’s hard to think that someone here in town could do something like that. Let’s stay focused on finding out who might be behind it all. I was reading more of Vivian’s journal entries. The next person on our list to talk to should be Jake Hunter.”

  “Sounds good. Let’s do it after breakfast,” said Meadow. “Although we can’t use our quilting history premise to talk to him. He’s got nothing to do with quilting.”

  “Uh-oh. Then how are we going to be inconspicuous and still have a chance to ask a few questions?” asked Beatrice.

  “He’s the baker downtown. We could go get our breakfast down there and then ask him a few questions during a quiet period. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

  Beatrice said, “I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes.”

  The bakery was right in the heart of downtown Dappled Hills. It was in an old stone building with two tables and café chairs outside. A customer opened the door as Meadow and Beatrice were outside and Beatrice took in a deep, appreciative breath. It smelled of fresh-baked pastries, muffins, and breads.

  Jake Hunter had apparently decided to take the old world approach to being a baker. He had a white, double-breasted chef coat and white pants, over which he wore an apron. You could barely see a few strands of still-blond hair under his white chef toque. He had a dimple and dancing blue eyes. He gave a jaunty greeting as they entered. “Hi, ladies! Know what you want?”

  Meadow said with a smile, “Hi Jake! We’ll browse for a minute, thanks.”

  “You can go ahead and browse,” murmured Beatrice, “I think those blueberry muffins are calling my name.”

  Meadow said, “I’m overwhelmed by all the choices. Somebody pick for me.”

  Jake just smiled politely so Beatrice stepped in. “Why not have the banana nut muffins? Then you and I can mix and match.”

  “Perfect!” said Meadow, looking relieved.

  “Are you taking these home or eating in?” asked Jake as a group of women walked in the door.

  “Eating in. Definitely,” said Beatrice. “And can we also get a carafe of coffee?” Because it was starting to look like it was going to be a while before they would get a chance to talk to him.

  “Isn’t he adorable?” asked Meadow under her breath.

  Meadow and Beatrice decided to sit inside by the front window. Everything in the bakery was spotlessly clean, including the large plate glass window with “Jake Bakes!” on the glass and the pristine white tablecloths. Beatrice was sure she was going to dribble coffee or crumbs on theirs. But then, as neat as everything was, Jake would likely swoop down and fix the problem with a clean tablecloth.

  The group of women didn’t appear to be in any hurry, so Meadow and Beatrice slowly ate.

  “Ash said he loved seeing Piper last night,” said Meadow, looking pleased herself. “It’s too bad that she isn’t doing the service project, but I love that she’s spending more time with Ash.”

  “I’m glad they had the chance to catch up,” said Beatrice. “It’s not easy with both of them teaching.”

  Suddenly both Beatrice’s and Meadow’s cell phones went off. They looked at each other and shook their heads. Beatrice reached out and glanced at it. “Apparently, she’s figured out how to use emojis.” She showed Meadow the screen, which had a long line of smiley faces, frowney faces, and devil faces with horns.

  “Nice,” said Meadow with a sigh. “At least last night she didn’t send a text in the middle of the night like she did a couple of nights ago. That was going to get old.”

  Finally the women left, toting their baked goods. Jake came by Beatrice’s and Meadow’s table to check on them. “How are you ladies doing?”

  “Fine, Jake. Everything is delicious, as usual. Do you know Beatrice Coleman?” asked Meadow, waving a hand in her direction.

  He reached out a hand a flashed a really charming smile at her, showing off his still-excellent teeth. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said.

  It seemed like flirting might come second nature to him—as if he didn’t think a lot about it. But he was definitely one of those people that you didn’t mind having flirt with you. He had a certain charisma that was difficult to resist.

  Meadow was blinking in the force of his smile, so Beatrice took over the conversation from there. It was going to be more of a clumsy interview, but that’s because they might not have enough time to slowly develop the questions in a more natural way. She took a deep breath and plunged right in. “I haven’t met you yet, so this is a pleasure. Although I’ve heard of you. I’ve been doing some work into the history of Dappled Hills on a project that Meadow and I are doing and your name has come up.”

  He raised his eyebrows until they almost shot up into his chef’s hat. “That makes me sad that I’m showing up in ancient historical documents.”

  “Well, you have to delve into nearly everything when you’re working with history. This isn’t that long ago, though, if it makes you feel better. It’s forty years ago, actually,” said Beatrice, leading into the topic cautiously.

  Jake immediately reacted, though. His peaches and cream complexion blanched. “Vivian,” he said softly.

  His reaction was so immediate and so extreme that Beatrice and Meadow glanced at each other in alarm. Meadow reached out a hand to Jake, laying it on his arm. “Why don’t you sit down for a minute,” she murmured.

  It was a good thing she did, because Jake looked weak on his feet. Beatrice said, “I’ve asked several people about Vivian and you’re the first one to even directly admit that you remember her.”

  Jake nodded, looking at the still-pristine tablecloth as if trying to gather up his strength. “Oh, I remember her. Still miss her to this day. I still feel as if she’s my soulmate.” He sat up straight in the café chair and put his hand in this jacket pocket. He pulled out what looked to be a laminated picture of an attractive young woman with luxurious red hair and a grinning younger version of himself.

  This was the first time that Beatrice had seen a picture of Vivian. Seeing her as she was when she was a vibrant young woman made her come to life and made her murder more real. Meadow leaned over Beatrice to look at the picture, too. When she saw it, she gave a small sob. “So sad!” she said, nearly knocking over her cup of coffee to grab her purse for a tissue.

  Jake was looking intently at her. “You remember her, too?” he asked intently.

  Meadow nodded. “At first I couldn’t remember very much. That’s because I was planning my wedding. You know how much goes into planning a wedding? Especially a wedding on a low budget. But seeing her face, it brings it all back to me.” She blew her nose loudly.

  Jake said sadly, “I wanted to be planning our wedding then.”

  This had the unfortunate effect of making Meadow cry even harder than before. Beatrice contributed to her tissue fund by handing over an entire travel pack to her. She said to Jake, “You and Vivian were sweethearts?” It was an old-fashioned word, but seemed to fit the wistfulness she saw on Jake’s face.

  “I wanted to be. More than anything,” he said in a heavy tone. “But apparently, it wasn’t to be. Vivian and I had such a great time together, but she was determined to keep our relationship friendly.”

  Meadow, turning blotchy from the crying, said, “She was just too sweet. So interested in quilting. And she had a little stray kitten that she’d rescued. She loved that little thing so much.”

  “Mittens,” said Jake with a reminiscent smile.

  Meadow boo-hooed in earnest.

  Beatrice wanted to try and plumb Meadow’s memories more later on. At this point, it seemed like it would be more useful to try and learn more from Jake while they had the opportunity. “Was she dating someone else, maybe, then?”

  A flash of hurt crossed Jake’s face, but then he regained his composure quickly. “I don’t think there was anyone special. Of course, plenty of people would have liked to have dated Vivian. As you can tell from her picture, she was absolutely beautiful—both inside and out.”

  Meadow said, “She wasn’t dating Huey then, was she?”

  Jake’s eyes shuttered. “Huey was way too old for her. And engaged.” He looked out the window as if somehow still waiting for Vivian to come through the bakery door. “I’ve never gotten over the loss.”

  “The loss?” asked Beatrice quickly. Meadow sopped up the rest of her tears and listened intently. Did Jake know that Vivian was at the bottom of the lake?

  “That’s right,” he said, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. “She got sick of Dappled Hills. Oh, it’s hard for those of us who’ve lived here and loved the town to believe it, but that’s the way she felt. It can be tough for new residents to get used to living here. And, maybe, for others here to accept them. It’s a close-knit group.”

 

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