Bun for Your Life (19 page)

“I'm back,” Olivia announced.

“Don't handle the note any more than necessary,” I cautioned.

“I won't. Are you ready?”

I took a deep breath. I wished I was at the bakery, instead of on the other end of the phone, sitting in a house all by myself. “Read, please.”

“‘If you don't want to end up like Calista, you'll stick to baking instead of snooping,'” Olivia read. “Oh my God, who left you this?”

“That's it?” I asked.

“What do you mean, ‘that's it'? Isn't that enough? Whoever this is, they're threatening to kill you, for heaven's sake. How can you be so calm?”

“I'm not calm, believe me. Inside I'm a tangled mess of gelatin.”

“That makes sense in a peculiar kind of way.”

“There's something strange about these notes.”

“Really?” Olivia's voice was tinged with sarcasm. “I'd never have guessed. How many people do you know who've received notes like this? What did the other one say?”

I told her.

“Aren't you going to call the sergeant about this one?”

“Of course. It sounds juvenile, though. Like they want to scare me, but don't know how.”

“I cannot believe this is happening to you. I'm going to let you go so you can call the sergeant. Don't worry about coming in. I've got it covered.”

“Thanks, Liv. I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you. You can take a couple of weeks whenever you want.”

She laughed. “I may take you up on that. Don't worry. I've been gone plenty of times myself. I'll call Sara. She'll come in if she's not busy.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I felt bad that I'd been leaving Olivia alone a lot. Luckily, we had her younger sister to call if one of us was out and needed help. But we would have to hire someone part-time soon, even with both of us there. Our little bakery was doing fantastic business, and I was so proud of both of us.

I hadn't had time to approach her, but I wanted to suggest to Olivia that we branch out—build a website and start taking online orders. We needed to find someone who could build us a really fantastic website. But at the moment, I had other things I had to concentrate on.

I let Beau nap uninterrupted on the couch while I went over to my computer. Something bothered me about Jane's outburst outside the church right after Calista's funeral. Was there more to Enid's story that we needed to know? I wasn't inclined to ask Enid if she was really Beatrice Travis. After my last failed effort at trying to engage her, I didn't think she'd be open to me asking her if her legal name was Beatrice Travis. I typed in Enid Middlebrook and got tons of hits, which I expected. After reading a few of the articles on her, I stopped. I really did need to get a life. I was thinking about things way too much. None of the articles mentioned she was previously known as Beatrice Travis, but there'd be no crime in Enid
writing under a pseudonym.

I glanced at Beau. He was still fast asleep, so I put on my jacket, scarf, and boots in preparation for walking ten blocks to the library. I knew I was probably on a wild goose chase, but I needed something to stop me from thinking about the notes. Sergeant Jacoby! I'd almost forgotten. I pulled out my cell phone and called the Rigby Police Department. The woman answering informed me he wasn't available and took a message. I told her to mark it “Urgent” with a red pen and said good-bye.

A sharp, staccato rapping on the door scared me out of my wits. I froze right where I stood. “Who is it?” I called out, adrenaline surging through my body. The noise had awakened Beau, and he joined me, tail wagging. I could see he wouldn't be a big help if someone had arrived to harm me.

“Mailman. I've got a package that won't fit in your mailbox.”

I paused. Anyone could say they were the mailman. “What's the zip code for Billings, Montana?” I yelled out. Ridiculous, I know. Especially, since I don't even know the zip code for Billings myself. I couldn't think of anything else. I was still rattled by the notes.

“I've got no idea, ma'am. You want your package and the rest of your mail, or should I leave it out here for you?”

“Yes, please do that. I've got a big, mean dog in here. I don't want him to bite you.”

“Me, neither. Have a good day.”

“Thank you, you too.”

I waited until his footsteps faded down the stairs and I heard the door at the bottom of the stairs close before I unlocked and cracked open my front door. There was indeed a package and some mail. I grabbed it, then slammed the door closed and locked it. I didn't hear any ticking coming from the package, so that was encouraging. I shed my winter ensemble and sat on the couch.

I glanced at the return address. It was Dottie's. What was she doing sending me a package? I tore it open to find three small packages wrapped in cheery red and green Christmas paper with Santas and trees all over them. I smiled. One had a label with my name on it, the other had a label with Sean's name on it, and the third was for Beau. There was also a note in an envelope addressed to me. I paused, given my experience with notes lately; but it was Dottie, not some crazed lunatic.

Dear Molly,

I hope you are well. The holidays are so busy! Wanted to make sure you got this in time, in case for some reason I don't see you before Christmas. You may be away with family, or what have you. There's nothing worse than a late-arriving present. I love knitting, and it's going to get colder, so I thought it would be perfect for you. I can't remember when Sean is coming back, so if you see him, please deliver his package to him, also. Included a little something for Beau, too! Having a great time!

Love,

Dottie

I was overcome with emotion at her sweetness. I sniffled and grabbed a tissue. I was curious, and wasn't about to wait for Christmas. I needed a little Christmas cheer right now. I opened my package and pulled out a glorious, beautiful red hat with a pom-pom on top. I loved it! I knew nothing about knitting myself, except that it involves two long needles and yarn. I stopped myself from opening Sean's as well for fear he would have me arrested for mail tampering. I left Beau's alone, too.

I went to my room to pack. I didn't think my parents would deny me my childhood bedroom for a little while. Yes, the one I scorned when Brian asked me to move out. That shows you how quickly life can change. I would be glad when Sean and Dottie returned. I put on my coat, new hat, and gloves, took Beau for a quick walk, then took off for the library.

I waved to the clerks behind the counter after arriving, then headed for the research computer. I shed my coat and sat.

“Doing more research?”

I turned and smiled at my mother as I brought up the database of old newspapers. “Pull up a chair.”

She grabbed one from a table nearby and sat next to me.

“Look what Dottie sent me.” I held out my new red knit hat. “She was afraid she wouldn't see me before Christmas to give it to me.”

“Isn't that gorgeous,” said my mother. “I love it.”

“Me too. It's so warm. How would you like company for a few days?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Me.”

She gave me a questioning look. “There isn't something wrong with your lovely apartment, is there?”

“No.” I wasn't about to tell her about the notes; she'd hire an armed guard. Which, on reflection, may not be the worst idea I've ever heard of. I couldn't worry her like that, though, and said nothing. “Dottie and Detective Corsino are both out of town. I'm kind of uneasy being at that big house by myself.”

She smiled at me. “I don't think you have anything to be worried about, but of course you're welcome. I'll put clean sheets on your bed. Your father's dragged all the Christmas decorations down from the attic. You can help us decorate. We'll let him get cold doing the outside while we do the inside.”

“I cannot believe Christmas is around the corner. Where has the time gone? Sounds fun.” It would remind me of growing up; my favorite holiday is Christmas, and I used to love decorating with my parents. “One more thing. I'm watching Detective . . . Sean's dog, Beau, while he's away. Do you mind if I bring him? He's a very sweet basset hound. Pepper will love him.”

“That's fine. Of course bring Beau. Now, what are you looking for? Something more for the detective? He wasn't very
receptive to your other research, from what you told me.”

“No, but that's okay. I'm looking up something Jane said.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “I just saw Jane the other day. Kate brought her to our quilting club. She was doing pretty well. She wasn't her old self, not by a long shot, but she's improved immensely. Anyway, what did she say that has you so interested?”

“Did Jane say anything about Enid at the meeting?”

My mother's brow creased as she thought. “No. She was quiet. What would she say about Enid; does she even know who she is?”

“I'm not sure. It was really kind of odd. I went to the talk Enid had at Emily's bookstore. Jane was there with Kate. After it was over, Jane came over and said that Enid's name is really Beatrice Travis. Have you ever heard that?”

“No, but then, I don't know a lot about Enid. The mystery genre isn't my cup of tea, really.”‘

“I know. Then Jane said something about Enid's father dying in the water sixty-some years ago.”

“Wow, I don't know. It's Jane; you can't take what she says seriously, I'm afraid,” she said. “That's what you want to look up? How come? I didn't know you were such an Enid fan.”

“I'm not. It's exciting to have such a famous person here, but I don't really even like her all that much, if you want to know the truth. I am curious, though, as to why she's so private. I picture authors as being friendly, wanting to mingle and talk to fans. The authors who have done events at Barking Mad Books have been very open and friendly. What's the saying, still waters run deep? I want to see if Jane was right. What do you think Jane meant by dying in the water?”

My mother shrugged. “Maybe drowned? Where are you going to start?”

“I thought old newspapers. It's a long shot, and I'm probably wasting my time, but why did Jane bring it up, and why was she so agitated about it?”

“She could just be rambling, sweetheart. Can I be honest? I think you're wasting your time. Are you sure you aren't making stuff up to think about to take your mind off Brian getting married?”

She thought that, too? “No. This has nothing to do with him. I've moved on, he's moved on. We've all moved on.”

“If you say so,” my mother said, casting a doubtful look at me. “If Enid's name is Beatrice, who cares? I mean, what difference would it make? Why don't you just ask her? She's doing a talk on her last book right here, you know.”

“If nothing else pans out, then maybe. I tried talking to her about Calista's death. I thought, being a mystery writer, she could shed some light on solving her murder, but she refused.”

My mother turned to the computer. “Let's see what we can find on Enid's father maybe drowning. Did Jane mention his first name?”

“No.”

“Oh.” My mother leaned back in chair. “That makes it a little difficult, doesn't it?”

“I'll start with Travis. How many could there be? Middlebrook is Enid's married name, apparently; she mentioned something to me about Mr. Middlebrook not coming back anytime soon.”

I began searching the newspaper database, but was interrupted by “Bad Romance.” Jumping up, I dug my phone out of my purse. “Be right back,” I told my mother, then hurried out to the lobby so I wouldn't disturb the other patrons. I didn't recognize the number. “Hello?”

“Can I speak to Molly Tyler?”

“This is her.”

“Sergeant Jacoby. I talked to Mr. Hamilton, showed him the note. He swears he had nothing to do with it. We didn't pick up any fingerprints from your car.”

“Did Trey seem mad because you asked?”

“Put out, maybe. I wouldn't say angry, exactly. He offered a sample of his handwriting. Looks nothing like the handwriting on the note. I'm no handwriting expert, but the handwriting on the note looks like a woman's. I'll keep the note here, see what else I can come up with. In the meantime, call me if you get more.”

“I did get another one. I called the station this morning and left a message with the woman who answered the phone.”

“I haven't been back to the station yet. When did you get the last note?”

“Last night, or early this morning. My friend found it slid under the door at the bakery we own together.”

“Where's the note now?”

“Still at the bakery. It's called Bread and Batter. It's on Lacey Street in Destiny.”

“I'll swing by and pick it up. You there now?”

“No, but Olivia is. She'll give it to you.”

After that call I texted Sean.

Hi there. I heard from Sergeant Jacoby. Trey denies writing the note, and he volunteered a writing sample. It's not him. Jacoby thinks it's a woman's handwriting. Of course, it could be Trey, maybe he paid a woman to write it. Staying with my parents and bringing Beau along. Oh, I also got another note. Olivia found it slid under the door of the bakery this morning when she arrived.

I waited a few minutes, then put my phone away and headed back through the double doors into the main library. I don't know how I lived without my phone for so long.

Luckily, no one was seated at the computer I needed. My mother had left a note on it saying she would see me tonight. I began scrolling through the database of ancient newspapers again, only this time I didn't have to go all the way back to the eighteen hundreds.

I tried remembering Jane's exact words. Enid's father died in the water over sixty years ago. How many over? One? Five? I really needed to see Jane and see if I could get any more information, but I didn't want Kate to get annoyed at me; even lovely people have their limits. I could always volunteer to bring Jane to Enid's talk at the library. It would be worth sitting through another Enid talk if Jane could offer me any useful information. The question is, what did it have to do with anything?