Skeletons in the Attic (A Marketville Mystery Book 1) (24 page)

I stared at Gloria Grace. “A woman scorned? Are you saying that Maggie Lonergan had an affair with her sister, Melanie’s, husband?” Talk about the Bermuda triangle of sibling rivalry.

“No, but not for lack of trying. Maggie had been in love with Reid for years, though he’d always declined her advances. She probably could have dealt with the rejection as long as Reid stayed faithful to her sister. When he had the affair with Abby, it became a personal rejection.”

It also meant that when Maggie selected the food bank for her community service hours it had been more with the eye towards stalking than a gesture of goodwill. Then again… “But the affair was over by the time they were all volunteering at the food bank together.”

“Your research really is impressive. Yes, it
was
over by then. To Maggie, that made it even more personal. How dare someone like Abby reject someone as wonderful as Reid? I got the distinct impression Maggie had a very vengeful streak in her.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that I’ve always wondered if Maggie Lonergan was behind your mother’s disappearance.”

The statement caught me by surprise. During our run in Muskoka, Melanie had demanded I stop investigating. At the time I believed she was protecting Reid, but it was equally possible she’d been protecting her sister. Another thought occurred to me.

“Who told you that Maggie was in love with Reid?

“Another volunteer at the food bank. A woman by the name of Misty Rivers. Claimed to be a psychic.”

Misty Rivers. Again.

“How would Misty Rivers know?”

“They grew up on the same street in Marketville, back when it was a really small town. Reid and Melanie were high school seniors when they started dating. Maggie and Misty were a year younger, and close friends at the time. By the time I interviewed them, the friendship was over. From what I could gather, neither sister had much time for Misty’s so-called mystic abilities.”

I rubbed my temples, trying to fight off the headache I knew was coming, and trying to make sense of everything Gloria Grace had told me so far.

“You believe Maggie might be behind my mother’s disappearance. Where do you think my mother went that day?”

Gloria Grace shook her head. “I wish I knew. I tracked down every lead, no matter how slim. Nothing. The police also came up empty-handed. It was if she just vanished in thin air.”

“But people don’t just disappear into thin air.”

“No, they don’t.”

“What do you make of Dwayne Shuter leaving on the same day?”

Now it was Gloria Grace’s turn to look surprised. “Dwayne Shuter? I don’t recall any Dwayne Shuter.”

I filled her in. Told her how he’d been a witness at my parents’ wedding. How he’d had an affair with Melanie. How he’d left the same day as my mother. How I’d seen his picture in the Christmas food bank photo, and later on, on LinkedIn, where his occupation was listed at site supervisor at the same company as my dad had worked when he died. How, despite repeated efforts, he was not returning my calls. By the time I was done talking, I realized that Dwayne Shuter looked very guilty indeed.

Gloria Grace reached the same conclusion, although she was none to happy about it. “I don’t know how I missed Dwayne Shuter,” she lamented, buttering the other blueberry scone and offering half to me. I waved it off. The last thing I needed was more starch and sugar.

“Well, to be fair, he had left Marketville,” I said, dabbing on the balm. “In all likelihood he and Melanie kept the affair a deep secret. I don’t even think Maggie knew. And if Misty knew—”

“You’re right. If Misty had known, she’d have told me in a heartbeat.” She sighed and took a bite out of her scone. “We need to find a way to get this Dwayne Shuter to talk to you.”

I had to smile at that. “We, Gloria Grace?”

“Yes, we. I always finish what I start, Callie, and I’ve been waiting to write the ending of this story for thirty years. Now, what else can you tell me, so
we
can get started?”

I thought about the tarot cards. The four seasons of a happy family photographs. The silver locket from Reid. The letter from my father. The photo in the
Sun
of Misty with Leith Hampton. For the first time since I’d started on this journey, I was ready to show my collection of clues to someone. Who better than the reporter who’d been there at the beginning of it all?

“It’s not what I can tell you, so much, Gloria Grace, as what I can show you.”

“These things, did you bring them with you?”

“I did.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

“I found these in the attic,” I said, laying out the four seasons photographs of our family on the kitchen table. I left out the part of finding them inside a coffin in the attic. There were some things just too weird to try and explain. “The next-door neighbor, Ella Cole, took these in 1985. The location is the elementary school where the Canada Day tree planting took place. You interviewed Ella for the
Marketville Post
.”

“I remember her,” Gloria Grace said. “She was a bit of a gossip, as I recall.”

“Still is, though I don’t think there’s anything mean-spirited about her.”

“Why did she take the photos?”

“Ella claims to be an amateur photographer. According to her, my mother asked her if she’d do the series. Ella said she didn’t question why, that she was honored to be asked.”

“She’s a good photographer. Caught the nuances of each face, used the lighting to her best advantage. None of that explains the why of it.”

“It’s possible my mother was trying to create a time capsule. It’s also possible she just wanted to reassure herself everything was back to normal. From what Reid told me, she’d broken up with him in January 1985. From what Ella told me, my mother approached her that February.”

“Hmmm… I suppose that’s one possible explanation. What else do you have in that bag of tricks?”

I put the photographs back in my purse and took out the envelope containing the tarot cards and the locket. “I was stripping out the old carpet in the living room—there’s hardwood under there I want to get refinished. Anyway, I found this envelope.”

“How old was the carpet?”

“Original to the house, if you can believe that. I’m sure whoever hid this envelope either expected to come back or expected someone to find it long before now.”

Gloria Grace nodded. “That’s a valid point. I take it that you think your mother hid the envelope?”

“I do, though I don’t have anything concrete to back that up.”

“Okay. Let’s see what you have in there.”

I started with the five tarot cards, laying them in the order listed on the paper they were wrapped in. “I’ve consulted with a tarot card reader, a woman by the name of Jessica Tamarand, goes by the name of Randi, who coincidentally, was also a tenant at Sixteen Snapdragon Circle about four years ago.”

“You’re sure it’s a coincidence? Did it ever occur to you that she might have been the one to hide the cards?”

I shook my head. “I don’t see it. Randi was just twelve when her family moved to Marketville. She didn’t even realize that the house she was renting was the house my mother had disappeared from, though she remembered the story because it made her parents second-guess their decision to move to Marketville. She said the house had a bad aura, made worse when Ella Cole came around, so she broke her lease agreement early and moved out. She seemed very sincere.”

“I’m sure she did.”

I looked down at my shoes and tried to think of something to say. Gloria Grace took pity on me.

“Let me go through my notes. The Tamarand name doesn’t sound familiar, but I might have something on the family.”

“Thank you.”

Gloria Grace fingered the cards, tapping the images one at a time. “The Empress, The Emperor, The Lovers, The Three of Swords, and the Death card. What did Randi have to say about the cards?”

“She said whoever sent them selected them for their obvious imagery, versus any real knowledge of tarot. I thought perhaps Reid had sent them, because of this.” I handed her the locket. “There’s a picture of Reid inside, with an inscription to Abby. When I confronted Reid about it, he said he’d never seen it before. Furthermore, he claims the note isn’t his handwriting, but an attempt to copy it.”

“Let me guess,” Gloria Grace said with a smile. “He seemed sincere.”

I felt the color rise in my face. “I must seem like a complete fool.”

“No, just someone very trusting, and perhaps a little naïve. But let’s take Reid at his word. If he didn’t give your mother the locket, who did, and why would they go to the trouble of making her believe the locket came from him? What purpose could it serve?”

I shook my head, my frustration mounting. “I don’t know. The cards might have been sent to scare her, but the locket wouldn’t do that. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Exactly. When I was a journalist, if something didn’t make sense, it usually meant I was looking at the situation in the wrong way.”

I mulled over the possibilities. Earlier Gloria Grace had suggested that Randi might have hidden the tarot cards. I still didn’t believe Randi would have done such a thing, but I could think of one person who had the means, motive, and opportunity.

Misty Rivers. The only question was whether Leith was her accomplice.

“I have an idea of who might have hidden the envelope,” I said.

“I thought you might, once you considered the possibility that it wasn’t your mother,” Gloria Grace said. “Care to share?”

I wanted to, I really did. I also knew it wouldn’t be right to make unfounded accusations. I needed to confront Misty Rivers first. How I was going to do that remained to be seen. What Misty told me would also determine how, or if, I approached Leith about his prior relationship with the self-proclaimed psychic. It might even be possible that Misty hid the envelope on Leith’s instruction.

“I’m sorry. I dragged you back into this and now I’m being secretive, but I need to speak to the person first.”

“I respect your position, Callie. Just be careful.”

I was tired of being told to be careful, but I nodded anyway. I’d come here hoping to learn something, anything, that might help me, and I’d learned a lot. I didn’t want Gloria Grace to think I was ungrateful. Besides, there was more that I wanted to show her.

“I have one final printout. It’s from the March second issue of the
Toronto Star
.” I slid the photocopy across the table and waited while she read the article.

“You can almost feel the tension,” Gloria Grace said. “I’m guessing they weren’t too pleased with the coverage, but they probably didn’t want to make a scene.” She flipped the copy back to me. “You take after your grandmother.”

“Did you ever meet them? My grandparents?”

“No. In fact, that was one of the things about this story that bothered me.”

“In what way?”

“It didn’t take me long to find out that your mother’s parents were Corbin and Yvette Osgoode of Moore Gate Manor in Lakeside. I’ll admit I was surprised. Nothing about your parents’ house indicated coming from that sort of affluence.”

“They were estranged. Didn’t approve of my dad, the wedding, or my being born.”

“That would explain the quash.”

“The quash?”

“I told my editor I’d found another angle for the story, and that the Osgoodes were it. At first he seemed enthusiastic. A couple of hours later he came back and told me in no uncertain terms to back off. There was to be no mention of either Corbin or Yvette. Nor was I to approach them.”

“Why would he want to stop an interview? If nothing else, it could have strung the story along.”

“A large media conglomerate owns the
Marketville Post
, along with a number of other regional newspapers and magazines. Osgoode Construction was a big advertiser in
Home and Builder
, one of its major trade and consumer publications—when it comes to print, it’s usually trade or consumer, but
Home and Builder
had a glossy magazine format for each market. I suspect Corbin threatened to stop advertising if the
Post
went down that road. At the time, I figured the Osgoodes just wanted privacy during a difficult time, and since my editor assured me they knew nothing, I let it go. It rankled, but I had to drop it if I wanted to keep my job. Which I did. I’ve never felt right about it.”

“Did your editor make a habit of interfering in your articles?”

Gloria Grace shook her head. “Never. That was the one and only time.”

Now that was interesting.
I filled her in on Yvette’s impromptu visit. “I don’t think she was involved in stopping your investigation or your story,” I finished. “Corbin, on the other hand, it’s entirely plausible.”

“Makes you wonder what he was afraid I’d find out.”

“Do you think you’d be willing to try now, all these years later? I mean, you’re not working for the
Post
any longer.”

Gloria Grace smiled, a glint brightening her pale brown eyes to amber. “I thought you’d never ask.”