Chapter Twenty-Two

“Thanks for meeting me, Sis. I do realize this is one of your busiest weeks of the year.” Monday morning Crystal and I are ensconced in a back booth at Latte Love, our coffee cooling on the polished walnut table. We both grabbed a drip—Honduran for me and a proprietary holiday blend for Crystal—as we don’t have time to wait on specialty coffee today.

“I figured it had to be important to you. So shoot.” Crystal leans in.

“I’ve narrowed my suspect list down to two with the most potential.”

“Go on.”

“I went and saw Mel, you know, Historical Society Mel, yesterday.”

“Okay.”

“Mom gave me the idea. And Mel gave me lots of ideas.” I rehash all I learned yesterday afternoon, watching Crystal’s reaction for any sense of disbelief or bewilderment. I’ve never worked on a murder case before and I know the possibility of my snooping going off the rails is not only real, but probable.

Before I’m through, Crystal holds up her hand, palm-out. I notice there’s not one finger without a bandage and guilt over taking her from her workbench yanks on my focus. “Let me think a minute, Angel. Your main idea is that someone working on the weir issue, someone like Mom, killed Frannie?”

“Hang on. Let me finish.” I take a sip of coffee and give myself a few seconds to appreciate the rich, dark blend. “Yes, at first I thought that it would be that straightforward. Figure out who’s most upset about Frannie pushing the Stonebridge Museum and building complex forward regardless of historical authenticity. But that would eliminate no one, and leave all fifty-five members of the historical society.”

“Maybe they all went in on a contract?”

“Very funny. This is Pennsylvania, not New Jersey.” I remind Crystal that it’s not her favorite binge-watch, The Sopranos.

“We don’t know that, Angel.” Her face remains frozen in her deadpan way that tells me she’s kidding.

“Accepting that the entire group can’t be to blame, and there are no singular standouts—you know, folks who had public or known altercations with Frannie—that takes me back to ground zero.”

“Except?” Crystal knows me well.

“Except, there’s a problem with Frannie’s plan. Stonebridge owns the property surrounding Jacob’s Run, on either side. Allowing for seasonal flooding—which is getting worse each year—there’s zero room left for parking lots, a café or two, a gift shop. You get my drift, right?”

“I do. What or who backs up to that land?” She stares off to the left, and I can all but see her mental cogs grinding. Crystal slaps the table and grins. “The Applebaum farm!”

“Exactly!”

We laugh and high-five, our private way of sharing excitement. Okay, not so private as we’re in Latte Love and as I look around, several pairs of eyes are on us.

“Sorry, folks.” I offer an apologetic smile and look at Crystal, who’s giggling behind her hand.

“You don’t have to apologize. How many phones have rung since we sat down?”

“Hey, you’re a long-time member of the Stonebridge citizens’ network. The jury’s still out on me, and some probably still think I had something to do with the murder.”

“Can you blame them, Angel? You didn’t but you’ve made it your project. Please tell me you understand that the minute you finish interrogating anyone in town, they spread it all over.”

“I’m not interrogating anyone. It’s called investigating.”

“Except you’re not in an official role. Are you sure Trinity’s okay with all of this?”

“She’s not thrilled but understands I’m going to do what I’m going to do. And I promised to tell her everything and anything I find out, of course.”

“Make sure you do. So is Cornelia Applebaum your next subject?”

“Cornelia, and of course Liza Wiegela. I haven’t found out where Liza lives, though.”

“That won’t be hard.”

“What do you mean?”

Crystal freezes, stares at me. “You’re kidding. You, Stonebridge’s Reluctant Agatha Christie, don’t know something?”

“Knock it off, Sis. If I knew half as much as you do about the local population, I’d have already solved this.”

“Touchy, touchy.” Crystal eyes me before patting my hand. “I’m sorry. You are super stressed and I’m teasing you.” I’m not fooled by my sister’s compassionate turn, not with the way the side of her mouth is twitching. She’s dying to tell me something and can’t wait to see my reaction.

“Spit it out, Crystal.”

“The thing is, you only have one more trip to make if you think either of these women are your killer, or know of the murderer.”

“Because?” If I thought I wanted to make Mel speak faster, I was mistaken. My fingers are itching to pry Crystal’s mouth open and get her words out.

“Liza Wiegela is Cornelia’s granddaughter.”

“Wait—what? Liza is an Applebaum?”

“Yes, but she wasn’t raised here—her father settled in Pittsburgh. She grew up in there, moved here for college, and worked on the farm and at the Applebaum Market through college. She studied real estate and interned at Frannie and Ken’s. That’s how she got hired. But once she worked there, she never pursued getting her license. She got distracted, I’d say.”

“That’s a nice way to say involved with Ken. How old is she, by the way?”

“I don’t know, maybe fifteen, twenty years younger than you?”

“No wonder Frannie was furious.” Betrayal is ugly no matter what, but to be traded in for someone young enough to be your daughter, ouch.

“Oh, yeah. Like I’ve said before, it was an awful time for Frannie and Ken.”

“I’d wondered if Liza had left town.” I’d made a note to ask Jenna, or better, Trinity, the next time I spoke to her.

“I think she did leave for a bit. And I have no idea if she’s working for the farm again. But you can ask Cornelia all of that. She’ll definitely know where Liza is, I’m guessing.”

“I’ll be you’re right.” Finally, the pieces weren’t completely all over the place. I have two people to focus on, and either one could lead to the break I’ve been hoping for.

“Hey, Angel.” Nate’s standing in front of our table and I can’t help but smile back at his warm greeting.

“Hi! Working on the books?” I didn’t see him at the counter when I came in, and it would have been too weird to ask for him. Not until we have this first date and see where it will go. Not that I’m expecting it to go anywhere, of course. But if it did…

“Always.” His gaze never leaves mine.

“Morning, Nate. I’m enjoying the holiday blend. Is nutmeg your secret?” Crystal’s way of clearing her throat to interrupt the mutual admiration society.

“That’s part of it. There’s some elf dust in there, too.” He slowly turns to my sister as if he’d rather keep looking at me. I’m not certain what to do with my observation.

Why not just enjoy it?

I can’t relax and lean into anything, even the prep for opening Shop ’Round the World. Not while Frannie’s murder is unsolved. I owe it to her. To anyone who’d have been murdered in my building, frankly.

“Whatever it is, it’s delicious.”

“Thank you. I’m glad.” He flashes another smile at us both. “I’m off, just wanted to say hi. See you later.” He taps the table in front of my mug before walking away.

Once he’s definitely out of earshot, Crystal nudges me with her shoulder.

“Dish. What’s later all about?”

I could prevaricate, keep her guessing. But I’m thinking that in that Stonebridge’s grapevine-is-faster-than-the-speed-of-sound way, Crystal might already know.

“It’s a date. Nothing more, nothing less.”