The Deadly Betrayed, page 9
Girl, you have a mini computer in your pocket. She took out her mobile, and snapped pictures of the pages.
Pocketing the flash drive, she shut down the computer, and put it back into the secretary. Pleased with herself not having left any trace of her visit, she returned to the kitchen.
Tori separated two slats of the blind, peeked through to make sure the way was clear, pulled the baseball cap low on her forehead, and let herself out.
Still high on adrenaline, she forced herself to stroll back to her car. It had been worthwhile to explore Fran’s apartment. She hoped her nephew never stumbled on what his auntie had just done. He’d have the cuffs out, ready to throw her in jail. Meantime, she had a dinner to serve to her good friend.
* * * *
BACK AT ANNIE’S HOUSE, Tori slipped into the guest bedroom, removed her jacket, and exchanged her trainers for sandals.
Annie looked up from chopping celery when Tori walked into the kitchen.
“Hi. Find anything inspiring in the village?”
Tori stared at her friend for a moment before she remembered what she’d given as the reason for going into there in the first place.
“Yes, I did. Why are you making salad? I’m treating you to dinner.”
“I like to contribute. It’s in my genes.”
“Okay, you’ve been feeding me since I got here, and you can’t allow me the pleasure of supplying a full meal?”
Annie pursed her lips into a pout. Tori laughed and hugged her friend.
“You’re the kindest, most generous soul I know, yet you can’t accept kindness and generosity from others.”
“Generosity isn’t a weakness.” Annie’s tone hardened.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend. I love you, my friend.”
“Well, as long as you love me while you’re browbeating, that makes it okay.” Annie smothered a grin.
“Do you think dumplings in the stew would be overkill, since we have Irish Soda Bread?”
“I vote for dumplings. The bread will keep. We’ll toast it tomorrow morning for breakfast.”
“Wonderful.” Tori glanced at her wrist watch. “I should check for orders on the website.”
“Come back in time to make dumplings.”
“You bet.”
In her room, Tori plumped up the bed pillows, balanced the laptop on her knees, and pressed the power button. After the machine had booted up, she inserted the flash drive, and opened the file Fran had named Phoenix 2013.
It felt weird, entering someone’s private world, reading their unedited thoughts written straight from their heart. This soul had lived and breathed when she wrote these words. Still, someone hated her enough to extinguish her flame before its time.
She was a tortured being fighting for emotional balance; a victim of her compulsions, desires, hopes for the future, and deep disappointment with her past.
Tori blushed as she read Fran’s play-by-play descriptions of lovemaking with Ned and the blistering hatred of his wife. Tori’s own dalliance with Theo, cut short because of his marital situation, hadn’t incited any murderous thoughts. She’d put aside desires and longings in favor of principle, but that was how she approached life. Fran was different. It was almost as if she needed to take Ned away from his wife and make him choose her. It became an obsession that grew more obvious as Tori read on.
Fran’s decision to up the ante in reaction to the Tarot seance led to her death. Had Ned killed his lover? Had Helene discovered the liaison and put a permanent, non-negotiable end to it?
Tori sighed, closed the file, and murmured–deluded child, emotionally stuck in adolescence. Who killed you and why? You pissed somebody off, for sure, but to the point of murder? Did your need for attention and adulation attract your killer-?
Her lids drooped and she drifted into a fitful doze, before she jerked awake. Tori had already scanned photos of men, women, couples, cats and dogs on Fran’s Facebook page, but didn’t dare sign in to the page as Fran. Dead people didn’t peruse their Facebook pages.
She grinned, pleased with herself when she found some close friends, and two cousins.
Fran’s posts were rare, her relationship status said complicated, her employment history was blank. She had been careful not to share her present location. So, Fran had purposely left her page public. Tori opened the pages of the friends and the cousins, and made notes. The next mission was to figure out how to contact them, and what approach to use.
The mobile timer buzzed. It was dumpling making time. Reluctantly, she closed the laptop. Research had to wait.
Tori joined Annie, who was already working on a glass of red wine, in the kitchen. She raised the bottle, Tori nodded, and Annie poured.
“Santé,” they clicked rims and sipped.
“Good wine,” Tori said.
“Charles is very particular about wine. We’ve got some excellent vintages in the wine fridge downstairs.”
“To Charles,” Tori raised her glass, and Annie followed suit. “I better not drink too much of this before I make the dumplings, or we’ll have mush.”
“Nonsense,” Annie hiccupped playfully. “I’ll make sure you don’t goof it up.”
Tori giggled. “Fine. You play supervisor. Go sit over there and get drunk.” Annie readied the table for their meal, and continued to sip wine.
Tori combined the ingredients for the dumplings, and dropped them into the boiling stew. After fifteen minutes, Tori lifted the lid.
“Wow. These are so fat and fluffy.” Tori scooped up a dumpling to show her friend.
“Gorgeous. Now put it back before it meets the floor.”
“When did you get so bossy?” Tori carefully transferred the stew into a deep tureen, and brought it to the table.
“I sliced some bread, in case there wasn’t enough dumpling for the gravy.”
For the next twenty minutes, the only sounds in the room were smacking noises of approval, and requests to pass the butter or the salt.
“Oooff! I’m so stuffed,” Tori leaned back in the chair, rubbing her belly.
“Me too,” Annie swallowed a last bite of bread and gravy. “I want this recipe. Is it one of your Mom’s?”
“Yup. Her secret recipe. She uses both chicken and beef stock, and thins with strong tea.”
“I wouldn’t have thought to use tea, but it makes sense. Gives color and a touch of bitterness.”
“Speaking of my Mom, I’m thinking of running back home tomorrow.”
“Oh no, not already. I was hoping you’d stay at least another week.”
“I’ll be back Wednesday morning. Some orders came in, and I should send them out as soon as possible. And I’ll pop in to see Mom. I don’t like to make Peg responsible for checking in on Mom, even if she lives next door.”
“You’re welcome back whenever you choose.”
“I’ll bring back some fresh bagels. The Montreal bagels you like.”
“Wonderful. There will be smoked salmon and cream cheese waiting for them.”
“I won’t argue that I could bring those too.”
“You better not,” Annie waggled her finger at her friend, a crooked smile on her lips.
“I thought I’d start out at about nine o’clock. If I don’t answer the cell, it’s because I’m on the road, but I’ll call or text when I get home. That should be about ten-thirty.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. Say hi to your mom. And thank her for the beef stew recipe.”
Tori chuckled. “I don’t think she’ll be happy to have her secret recipe outed.” She sipped her tea, wondering how she could get in touch with Fran’s friends, and what excuse could she offer for wanting to see them. If she was a cop, her interest was legitimate. As a private person, not so much.
Chapter 11
Tori
TORI PULLED INTO THE leaf-strewn driveway beside her house. Dry oak leaves covered her front lawn and the stone path to her front door. While she was home, she should sweep the driveway and entrance. Although, by the time she came back next week, leaves would inundate her property. Mature oaks, maples, and weeping willows lined the narrow street, a visual treat in spring, and giving shade in summer. The downside, when the trees shed leaves in the fall, they needed raking, bagging or shredding.
Kicking aside a pile of leaves at her front door, she let herself in and shivered. Tori tapped the up arrow on the wall thermostat and listened for the whoosh of warm air through the vents.
She slung her jacket over a chair back, set the laptop on the table and plugged in the kettle. Tapping her tummy, she decided on a toasted cheese sandwich.
Munching on the sandwich, Tori returned to Fran’s social media page. Two women, Muriel Corbin and Nancy Girard had exchanged posts with her most often. How to convince them to talk to a stranger about their friend, and not arouse suspicion? Tori didn’t think they knew yet that their friend was dead.
As she nibbled her sandwich, she navigated to her online jewelery store. Several orders had come in. After lunch, she’d fill the orders that had arrived and mail them on her way back to Annie’s.
Here’s my excuse to legitimize my visits to Fran’s friends. I tell them Fran ordered earrings and a necklace to match the garnet and diamond tennis bracelet I found when I searched her apartment.
Tori had recognized the diamonds as cubic zirconia, a clear stone that shot rainbows like real diamonds. Fran had yearned to marry Ned and start a family. Tori didn’t think that would happen, even if someone hadn’t put an end to Fran’s dreams. But Tori could use this desire to help find Fran’s killer.
Pleased with herself, she sent off two private messages with a concoction of white lies and the truth. She told them the package with Fran’s order had come back unclaimed, and Tori hoped these ladies she’d found on Fran’s social media could help deliver the package to the future bride. Once the women responded, Tori would arrange to visit them.
Meanwhile, she telephoned her mom.
“Hi Mom. Is it okay if I come over?”
“Of course, love. I saw your car pull in a good half hour ago.”
“I figured you did,” Tori chuckled.
“Come on over. I’ve got scones about to come out of the oven.”
Tori locked up and crossed the street to her mom’s house. The elderly woman opened the door as her daughter set foot on the first step. Tori bounded up and enveloped her mother in a hug.
“My land, girl. Leave me some breath in my lungs.,” Mrs. Carlin laughed and returned her daughter’s embrace.
“I missed you, mother-mine.”
“It’s only been a few days, love.”
“I know. It’s just that something happened up north that’s making me very grateful for my living relatives. And my friends, of course.”
“What happened?” Mrs. Carlin pushed away from her daughter and scanned her features for signs of distress.
“Nothing to me, Mom. Annie and I found a drowned woman in the lake.”
“Oh heavens,” Mrs. Carlin ushered Tori into the warm kitchen whose fragrance reminded her of Chef Gilbert’s kitchen. “Tell me everything.”
Mother and daughter sat at the kitchen table, buttering and scooping marmalade on their hot scones, as Tori recounted the facts.
“So that’s why I’m glad my family and friends are normal people.” Tori swallowed a bite, “and not involved with killers. Except Sasha, of course, but that’s his job.”
“Peggy didn’t say Sasha was up north.”
“It’s temporary posting because they’re short two officers.”
“What about that nice Theo? Is he there too?” Mrs. Carlin pursed her lips and shot a sly glance at her daughter, who blushed. “I guess you’re eager to get back up there, are you?”
“Really, Mom. It’s not that serious.”
“I’m still not clear on why you split your vacation up to come home.”
“I had to send out jewelery orders. It’s both a blessing and a curse to do business online. When orders come in, I have to send out the physical items as soon as possible.”
Mrs. Carlin nodded, and offered to top up her daughter’s tea.
“Thanks, Mom.” Tori buttered another scone and scooped peach jam on it. She wasn’t about to worry her mother with the other stuff she had planned, and the half-truth reassured her elderly Mom.
“I better get those orders out.” Tori rounded the table to kiss her mother’s cheek. Mrs. Carlin took advantage to lean on Tori as she stood up.
“Damned knees. Wish I could just tap them and they’d rejuvenate.” She steadied herself and drew her arm through Tori’s for support.
At the door, Tori once more kissed her mom’s cheek and hugged her.
“I’ll call you when I get back up north.” She waved and jogged across the street. She was eager to see if the ladies had responded. Checking her messages, she was pleased that they had. She picked up her cell and called Annie.
“Hey, I was getting worried.”
“Sorry, I got in, craved a cup of tea, then visited my Mom. You know how she is. When she saw me arrive, she started a batch of scones. It was a question of who’d call who first.” Tori chuckled.
“Mrs. Carlin makes the best scones.”
“She’s probably making a batch for you as we speak.” Tori chuckled.”
“Yum, I can hardly wait until you get back,” Annie giggled “For your company as well as your mom’s scones, of course. See you tomorrow.” Tori chuckled at Annie’s attempt to cover up preference of scones over friend.
“If I leave at one-thirty, before the traffic picks up for the evening rush, I’ll be there around three o’clock. If I’m delayed, I’ll let you know.”
Tori was already reading the first message from Muriel Corbin as Annie made her friend promise not to forget the scones. She hoped she didn’t sound too distracted as she hung up.
Both Muriel and Nancy were eager to meet with her. They were both worried about Fran’s silence. Tori messaged back a time to meet each one, two hours apart, one at two o’clock, the other at four.
Leaning back in the kitchen chair, Tori crossed her arms and examined the ceiling. What if they asked what Fran had chosen for her supposed wedding? Inspired by the filigree on her ceiling, she remembered a sample in her binder. She scooped up her mobile and strode to the workshop. Sure enough, there they were; delicate dangle earrings and a matching necklace woven with red and clear crystals. It was perfect for Fran’s make-believe wedding.
She arranged the pieces on a black velvet cloth, trained a light on them to bounce back highlights, and snapped a photo. If they asked to see the pieces, she’d show them the photograph. Pleased with herself, Tori freshened up, changed her clothes, input the addresses into her mobile, and headed out.
* * * *
BOTH FRAN’S COUSIN and her friend lived in Montreal East. Although Tori wasn’t fond of the tunnel, it was the easiest way to get across the river to the east end. On the other side, her mobile’s GPS female voice, dubbed the ‘Countess’ directed her toward Muriel Corbin’s residence. Liking to be prepared, Tori had already checked the satellite map for an image of Muriel’s apartment building, a white and aluminum siding duplex.
Surprised to not only have found the place, but arrived ten minutes early. Taking her chances, she rang the doorbell anyway. A woman in her early thirties, blond hair twisted into a high knot on her head, wearing leggings and a baggy orange cotton sweater answered.
“Bonjour, madame,” Tori stuck out her hand. “I’m Tori Carlin.”
“Ah, oui, bonjour. Muriel Corbin.” Muriel’s handshake was decidedly firm. “Come in, please.” Tori resisted the urge to shake the pain out of her hand. The young woman waved Tori into the living room. A tray on the low coffee table held a carafe of coffee and a plate of store-bought cookies.
Tori sat on the couch, as her hostess indicated.
“This is very nice, thank-you. It wasn’t necessary to go to any trouble.”
“My pleasure. I’m glad to get news of my friend.” Muriel poured coffee without asking Tori if she wanted any, raised her eyebrows and pointed at the cream and sugar.
“A little cream, thanks.” Tori accepted the cup, took a cookie from the proffered tray, and balanced it on the edge of the saucer.
Muriel served herself, and sat on the couch next to Tori, tucking a leg underneath her.
“So, have you seen Fran? Where is she? Is she okay?” Tori waited until the spate of questions abated, using the time to take a bite of cookie and a sip of coffee while mentally rehearsing her story again.
“To explain my interest, I must mention that I’m a costume jewelery designer. I guess Fran saw a social media ad I posted, and sent me a picture of a bracelet by private message. She wanted matching earrings and necklace for her wedding.”
“Oh, not the ruby and diamond one? It’s a rumor that Ben gave her that. Fran said it was real diamonds and rubies, but I don’t think he could afford that.”
Tori impressed herself with her ability to lie straight-faced and make stuff that never happened sound real. This was not a positive character trait, to her mind, but circumstances defined behavior. “Who’s Ben? If you don’t mind saying.”
“Oh, it’s a long story, and I’m not sure I should tell you. But you’re a perfect stranger and not from our area... you’re not from around here, are you?”
Tori shook her head.
“Well, we all worked together at a big restaurant. Fran, her cousin Nancy, Delores, and myself. Ben, the boss, and Delores got married. If you saw Fran, you’d recognize a man trap. Tall, red hair, perfect figure. All the guys were after her, but she chose Ben. She’s always had a thing for married men. It’s like she had to make them choose her over their wives. She did everything to make him leave Delores.” Muriel took a swallow of coffee. “But he wouldn’t, of course. Delores is, well, she’s a little delicate. Up here.” Muriel tapped her temple. “So, after Fran gets accepted to the Cartier Hospitality Institute and graduates, she’s better than us. She left for a new job at a big hotel. We don’t get much news, and then none. She disappeared. We got a private message on social media that said goodbye, she wanted to start fresh somewhere else.”
