A Page Marked for Murder Page 2

  “Pippi, what on earth are you doing here,” Addie cried, scooping her up in her arms. “Where’s your mommy?” Addie glanced up and down the street and over to the park entrance, expecting to see a beaming Gloria. “Or did you come to pay me a visit without her knowing?” Addie half-heartedly scolded and then laughed as she snuggled the small dog into the crook of her arm. With one eye on the trembling dog and another peeled for Gloria, Addie paced back and forth in front of her shop—certain that at any moment, the doting woman would frantically run out of one of the stores along the street in search of her baby.

  “What’s wrong?” Martha called from her bakery door.

  Addie wheeled around. “Pippi seems to be lost.”

  “Impossible.” Martha harrumphed, pulled her jacket tight around the collar, and joined Addie on the sidewalk. “That woman never lets this dog out of her sight.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing, but I don’t see Gloria anywhere, do you?”

  Martha scanned the street in both directions and looked at Addie. Her eyes echoed what Addie felt in the pit of her stomach, and then they both jumped at the sound of shouting coming from the park across the road.

  “Oh no,” Martha cried, clutching her ample chest. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “Me too.” Addie grabbed Martha’s jacket sleeve. “Come on.”

  The two women bolted in the direction of the uproar. With Pippi clutched in her arms, Addie pushed her way through the crowd formed around the side of the gazebo. When she neared the center of the group of event decoration volunteers, her eyes filled with tears. There, lying in a heap on the snow-covered ground, was Gloria. The little basket she carried Pippi in when she worked was crushed beneath her. Beside her was a tipped-over stepladder butted up against her leg, which was severely twisted at an unnatural angle.

  Chapter Two

  “I know you’re worried about your mom,” Addie whispered into the small dog’s ear, and tightened her arms around it as she resumed her pacing on the hospital sidewalk. “But she’s in good hands. Doctor Emerson’s taking care of her. You remember my good friend Simon, don’t you? He’s the one you thought was a vet because of the hospital smell.” Addie chuckled and rumpled the fur on the back of Pippi’s neck. “I know she’s going to be okay. I just know it.” Tears burned behind Addie’s eyes. “Simon will make sure. He’s the best doctor on the whole darn East Coast,” she said, more as reassurance to herself than the small dog.

  “Addie?”

  “Simon,” she cried, dashing toward him as he stepped through the hospital sliding-glass door.

  “Hi there, both of you,” he said with a chuckle as he wrapped his arms around her in a watchful hug so as not to squeeze the warm little body between them. “Martha told me you were out here somewhere with Pippi because of the no-animal policy in the emergency department, and you were gracious enough to let Martha be inside with her friend.”

  “Yeah.” Addie reeled at the thought of being beholden to Martha and waved off his accolades. “How is Gloria?” she said, searching his blue eyes for a sign, any sign, that everything was all right. “She didn’t break her hip, right? She’s going to be okay?”

  “I really don’t know if there are any fractures at this point.” His voice had a hollow ring to it, giving Addie a hint as to how busy his shift had been. When he raked his hand through his black hair, leaving small tufts in its wake, she stood on tiptoes and smoothed it for him.

  “But the X-ray must show something, right?”

  “It was partially dislocated for sure, and that’s been reduced now and set back in place, but she’s pretty groggy from the medication she had to have for the reduction, so I haven’t been able to do a full post-procedural assessment yet.”

  “But she’s okay now. You fixed it, right?”

  “It’s hard to say. There’s always the risk of small fractures or bone chips that an X-ray won’t pick up, especially in that area. So I’m going to run an MRI to check for ligament and cartilage damage, too.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That means given her age and medical history, I’m concerned and want to make sure there’s nothing else going on.”

  “Like what?” Her voice teetered on panic.

  “Like”—he palmed his hand down his drawn face—“we’ll need to monitor the blood flow in the area and make sure the vessels are nourishing the bone properly.”

  Addie pulled her precious cargo closer and kissed the top of the furry little head. “So what does that mean for, well . . . Pippi?”

  Simon scratched behind the dog’s perked ear. “This little girl is going to need a foster mom for a while yet.” He looked at Addie, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  “Me? No, I’ve never owned a dog in my life. I wouldn’t have a clue what to do.”

  A wry smile pinched at the corners of his mouth. “It’s already been decided. She’s to stay with you.”

  “What? Who decided?”

  “Gloria and Martha have it all worked out, or I suppose I should say, Martha does. Since Gloria is a little blitzed on pain medication right now, she will agree to anything Martha suggests, but don’t worry, it’s all worked out.” His eyes sparkled as if he were taking great enjoyment in tormenting Addie with the fact that Martha was making decisions for her.

  She wrinkled up her nose, and he kissed it.

  “I’ve got to get back inside. Martha should be out in a few minutes. They’re just looking for Gloria’s keys, so I’ll let her fill you in on the details of their plan.” He gave her a sly wink and disappeared back inside through the sliding door.

  “So, I’m to be a dog person now, am I?” Pippi wiggled in her arms, her pink tongue lapping at the air as if she were trying to kiss Addie’s face. “I just hope we both survive this.” Addie flashed the dog a feeble smile. “But I’d better text Paige and Kalea and let them know what’s going on.” Addie shifted Pippi in her arm and fished her phone out of her handbag. She’d just finished shooting off the text when Martha’s white head popped up in front of her.

  “I suppose Simon told you that she’s going to be here at least a few days?”

  “Um, yeah, he mentioned he wants to run more tests, but that’s about all he said?”

  “Well, it looks like as long as those turn out clear, she’ll only have to stay a couple of days, but . . . if they show any chipping or damage around the socket, then it means a hip replacement.”

  “Oh dear, he never told me that.” Addie glanced down at Pippi, knowing this meant she could well be a foster mom for a long while yet.

  “I told Gloria I’d go to her place and pack a bag for her. You might as well come with me to get what you’ll need for the princess here.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’ll need dog food, won’t I?”

  Martha’s laugh was sudden and short but enough to engage her dimply cheeks. “Yes, among a few other things.” She patted Pippi’s head. “This little one is spoiled rotten. I know because I’ve looked after her before.”

  “Then here”—Addie held the little dog out—“you’re probably more qualified to look after her than I am.”

  A look of horror filled Martha’s faded-blue eyes as she scrambled backward, almost tripping when she stepped into a snow rut. “No, no, I have Cleo now, and she’s not partial to dogs. Gloria and I got it all figured out. You look after Pippi because she likes you”—as if on cue, Pippi licked Addie’s hand—“see, and I’ll pack an overnight bag for Gloria and bring it back.”

  “Martha, really, I’ve never had a dog in my whole life. Surely she has other friends that could take her? What about Ida from the book club, they’re friends, or Mildred, the owner of the Emporium on Main?”

  “Nope, all her friends are cat people too, and don’t want to have to break up any dog and cat fights any more than I do. Because the problem is Pippi wants to be friends with all furry creatures, but those furry creatures . . . well . . . they’re not always so obliging.”

 
“But there must be someone who’s more qualified?”

  “The only person would be Gloria’s cousin.”

  “Then let’s call her.”

  “She lives in Arizona. If you don’t take her, she’s going to a boarding kennel.”

  Addie’s chest ached at the thought. “We can’t let that happen,” she said, and stroked the small dog’s back.

  “No, we can’t. Like I said, we’ve decided, and you’re the best solution.” Martha waved off Addie’s look of concern. “You’ll be fine.”

  Addie gulped. “If you think it’s for the best.” Addie glanced hesitantly down at her new roommate.

  “I do,” Martha said, whirled around, and headed off in the direction of the bakery. “I’ll go get my car. You wait here,” she called back over her shoulder.

  Addie collapsed on the bench behind her. “I really hope we survive this, girl.” She kneaded her fingers through the dog’s silky soft hairs. Her text alert pinged, and Addie grabbed her phone out of her bag as Pippi made herself at home on her lap. Addie shifted on her hip as not to send her little friend plummeting to the ground and glanced down at Paige’s message.

  I would tell Kalea you’ve been delayed, but she went out to get tea over an hour ago and hasn’t come back!

  What! Addie’s thumbs flew across the keypad. Where did she go for tea, Boston Harbor?

  HarHarHar!!! I just sent a text to Serena and told her to send our wayward employee back this way. She said she hasn’t been in there this morning???

  “Not again,” Addie groaned. Well, she is good at pulling off a disappearing act. Okay, I’ll see if I can track her down.Thanks Love you! ♥

  * * *

  Addie shoved her phone back in her bag and absently patted the warm fur ball asleep on her lap. “Kalea, Kalea, Kalea, what are you pulling this time?”

  Addie jerked at the sound of a car horn and glanced over to see Martha waving frantically at her from behind the wheel of her older-model blue Ford Taurus. She rolled down the window and called, “Hurry up. We have to make a stop at my house first.”

  Addie scooped up Pippi, settled her in the crook of her arm, and hopped into the front seat. “Why? What’s wrong at home?”

  “Nothing, but I have to pick up the key I have from Gloria’s last trip to Europe. She had me take in the mail and keep an eye on the place. I always do it when she’s off on one of her adventures.”

  “Simon said she was giving you her keys when he left to come and talk to me.”

  “She couldn’t find them in her pockets. They must have fallen out when she fell off the ladder.” Martha checked over her shoulder and pulled out onto Main Street. “I told her we would stop by the park and look for them. I’m sure they’re just lying in the snow somewhere, or maybe one of the other decorating committee volunteers picked them up for her.”

  “Yeah, there were a lot of people milling around by the time we got to her. I’m sure someone has them for safekeeping.”

  A few minutes later Martha pulled alongside the curb in front of her two-story Dutch Colonial, reminiscent of something out of a storybook, and power walked her short legs up the sidewalk. Addie cringed when Martha, legs straddled, stepped over a snowdrift across the pathway. All they needed was another hip injury, and she made a mental note to speak to Paige about taking over the chore of clearing the walkway. She needed a subtle way to remind her that in spite of her mother’s seemingly good health, Martha was starting to creep up in years. However, before Addie could unfasten her seat belt and get out to assist Martha on the apparently slippery walkway for her return trip, the woman plopped back in the driver’s seat, and they were off toward Gloria’s house.

  Addie glanced over at the white-haired woman beside her and smiled to herself. Never in a million years would she have imagined that this sense of camaraderie would ever exist between her and her onetime adversary. The change seemed to have come about not long after Paige and her little girl took Martha up on her offer to move into the family home with her. She was a lot less surly now, for the most part, and it felt good to know that her and Martha’s once-turbulent relationship was in the past—like so many of Addie’s darkest memories. Addie wanted to reach over and hug the woman but knew that would be pushing it a bit far, so she settled on smiling to herself and staring out the window.

  * * *

  Addie stomped clumps of snow off her boots on the carpet in the front entryway and smiled. Not only was the exterior of Gloria’s Craftsman-style bungalow inviting with its pillared porch front, but the sense of hominess also continued through the front door and beyond. The house was a perfect reflection of the woman who lived here. A soft, subtle scent of sandalwood teased her nose as Addie hung up her jacket on the coatrack, poked her head around a square, wooden pillar, and scanned the living room. Every built-in nook and cranny was filled with treasures the travel agent had collected on her exotic adventures. It made Addie wonder if Gloria and her late aunt had shared stories of their respective travels in Aunt Anita’s final days.

  “Pippi probably needs to go outside,” Martha called over her shoulder as she headed down the hallway to what Addie assumed was Gloria’s bedroom. “The yard’s fenced, so just let her out the back door while we gather up what we need.”

  “A fenced yard?” Horror surged through Addie, and she peered down at the wiggling bundle of fur in her arms. “Oh no, Martha. My yard isn’t fenced. What am I going to do?”

  The echoes of Martha’s merry hoots traveled down the hallway, but Addie couldn’t see the humor in what she had just confessed. “I mean it, Martha,” she said, heading in the direction of the laughter. “My yard is wide open, and the back garden drops off at the edge of a cliff. I can’t possibly keep Pippi at my house, can I? She wouldn’t be safe. What if she got lost or . . . worse? How could I ever explain that to Gloria?”

  “Relax.” Martha poked her head out of a doorway. “Gloria has a portable dog run. I used to have to use it when I took care of Pippi. It’s in my garage. I’ll have Paige drop it off later.” Her white mop of hair still shaking with her laughter disappeared back into the room. “The dog food’s in the pantry cupboard in the kitchen, and I think I saw her toys and bed in the living room.”

  Addie heaved out a deep breath and glanced down at Pippi, who was wiggling like a worm on a hook by now. “Yup, better get you outside, hey girl.” She made her way through the living room and attached dining room to the rear door and released the squirming little dog. Pippi raced over to a relatively snow-free corner of the large garden, did her business, and then dove headfirst into a bank of fresh snow, coming out the other side looking like an Abominable Snowdog.

  Obviously, it was playtime, and Addie couldn’t blame her. She’d spent the last few hours locked in Addie’s arms and was no doubt feeling confined. Addie closed the door and set about searching through cupboards until she found the bag of dog food and a box of treats. Martha had mentioned a bed and toys, so the hunt was on for those. She really had no idea what a dog toy looked like but assumed since Gloria had no children, it would be anything not displayed on her shelves or tables. Although when Pippi whined to get in, she showed her superb tracking skills and managed to find every doggy toy and stuffed animal she had stashed away in the living area.

  Addie took one more glance around the room to make sure they hadn’t missed anything, and her gaze landed on a photo album lying open on the coffee table. She made her way closer and recognized the three shining schoolgirl faces of Martha, Gloria, and Ida—sitting alongside a striking blond-haired young man. There was something familiar about his eyes, but she couldn’t place him. A smile tugged at Addie’s lips as she gazed down at the three young women, their arms draped over each other’s shoulders, grinning from ear to ear, and the man seemingly enjoying the company of three such beauties.

  “What are you looking at?”

  Addie jumped. She hadn’t heard Martha come up behind her. “I just saw this, and I can’t believe it. What were you guys in? H
igh school?”

  “Yeah, we were best friends even then.” Martha’s eyes glistened in the daylight streaming in through the window, and she dabbed at her nose.

  “I had no idea you and Gloria have been friends all these years.”

  Martha shrugged. “Small towns are like that. I guess unless someone moves away or . . .”

  “Or what?” Addie looked from her back to the picture.

  “Or you marry the guy in that picture, and he breaks your heart and leaves you on your own with five little girls,” she snapped, and turned away.

  Addie stared hard at the photo, and then glanced back at Martha, who had dug a tissue out of her purse and was wiping her cheek. “Is that your ex?”

  “Yeah, that’s the infamous Ken Stringer,” Martha said, dabbing at her eyes.

  “Why does he look familiar to me?”

  “He’s one of the men you saw come out of my shop this morning,” she choked, and blew her nose.

  Ah, the reason for the decapitated gingerbread man. Now Addie understood.

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” Martha swiveled around and bolted down the hallway.

  Oh dear. A knot in Addie’s stomach tightened. She had really stepped in doo-doo this time. The last thing she wanted was to upset Martha by asking about an old photograph. She bounded up the hall behind her and stopped when she found Martha sitting on the bed in Gloria’s room, tears streaming down her apple cheeks. “I’m sorry, Martha. I didn’t mean to say anything to upset—”