“Oh, yes. She used to carry a notebook around with her, scribbling down thoughts and ideas for some great saga she said she hoped to write one day.”
“She didn’t say she was actually writing it?”
Grace frowned. “She didn’t talk a lot about herself, poor thing.”
“Poor thing?”
“Her husband was the jealous kind. I can’t say I was surprised when she went missing, although they were never able to pin anything on that brute Phil Stone. More than once she came to our meetings with bruises on her arms or legs.”
“Her husband was the controlling type?”
Grace nodded. “She ultimately stopped coming to the meetings. It wasn’t long afterward that she disappeared.”
“And no one’s ever heard from her?”
“I think her body was probably dumped in the woods somewhere. Perhaps some hunter will find her bones one day.”
“Perhaps,” Tricia said.
Grace put a hand on Tricia’s arm. “You were obviously on your way somewhere, and I’m holding you up.”
“No, I’m just running an errand.”
“Well, I’ll let you go. I’ll see you tomorrow evening at the book club meeting. I’m grateful we won’t have a guest,” she said with a laugh.
“I’m so glad what happened last week hasn’t scared you off,” Tricia said.
“Oh, I think you’ll find that we’ll return. After all, don’t we love a good mystery?” Grace asked.
Tricia laughed. “Yes, but I prefer mine between the covers of a book.”
“Good-bye, dear,” Grace said with a pleased smile, and continued on her way.
Tricia pushed forward, glad to have one more mystery cleared up . . . and another still facing her.
Stella Kraft opened her back door before Tricia could press the bell. “I knew you’d eventually figure it all out,” she said smugly, her pale blue eyes sparkling.
Tricia pursed her lips, annoyed. “Why didn’t you just come right out and tell me about Faith Stone?”
“Come in, come in. I’m not paying Keyspan to heat the great outdoors,” Stella chided.
Once again the smell of boiled potatoes and mothballs filled the immaculate kitchen. Stella had set the table with mugs, spoons, and napkins, and a plate of gingersnaps. “Let me take your coat.”
“I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll just drape it over the back of the chair,” Tricia said, and settled at the table.
Stella moved to the stove, picked up the coffeepot, and poured. “Now, what led you to Faith?”
“A number of things.” Tricia told Stella about her conversations with Kimberly and Artemus Hamilton; Nikki’s tainted cookies and cake; Mr. Everett’s revelation; and Grace’s confirmation. “Nikki sure had me fooled. She always seemed so even-tempered at our book club meetings, always bringing the refreshments and all. Did you have her for a student?”
Stella nodded, taking her seat. “She’s another one who slid through my class without making much of an impact. Such a disappointment after having her mother.”
“And you lied to me when you said you had no idea who really wrote Zoe’s books.”
“I didn’t actually lie,” Stella said. “I kept the truth to myself. That’s not lying. Exactly.”
Tricia wasn’t about to debate her. Instead, she said, “Tell me about Faith Stone.”
Stella sat back in her chair, a smile lighting her face. “Faith was the best student who ever passed through my classroom. She had a real thirst for learning. Even in high school she had a wonderful gift for storytelling.”
“You said you didn’t keep any of your students’ work.”
“That was no lie, but it wasn’t easy to forget her way with words, even at that age. I hoped she’d go far. Obviously, she would have, if the books had been published before her disappearance. They would have set her free.” She shook her head sadly.
“But how did Zoe get hold of Faith’s manuscripts?”
Stella reached for a cookie. “Near as I can figure, it was from the estate sale.”
“Estate sale?”
“After she disappeared, Faith’s former in-laws pushed to have her declared dead.”
“Her in-laws, not her husband?”
Stella nodded. “Five or six years after she disappeared, her good-for-nothing husband, Phillip Stone, died in a work accident. He was a lineman for PSNH.” The local power utility. “Faith’s daughter went to live with her grandmother. I don’t know if the in-laws ever legally had Faith declared dead, but they made a big show of it and had a big sale at the house. I believe Zoe got the manuscripts at that sale. Faith’s in-laws wouldn’t have known what they were—and would have cared even less. They considered her writing a frivolous waste of time. Her ex-mother-in-law was dead by the time the books were published. Her sister-in-law never recognized Faith’s work, or I’m sure she would have tried to get her hands on some of the money Zoe raked in.”
“How long after Faith disappeared was the first book published?”
“Oh, maybe ten years. I’m assuming Zoe had the manuscripts for a couple of years before she figured out what to do with them. Not the sharpest pencil in the box, that one.”
“Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you let people know Zoe didn’t write those books?”
“I told you, I did hint about it to my colleagues, but I had no proof. All I could do was be enraged on Faith’s behalf. Eventually—” She shrugged. “I got over it.”
“But what about Nikki? Didn’t she deserve compensation? Imagine what she must have felt like. It’s certainly motive enough to kill someone.”
Stella frowned. “The only one who deserved to benefit from Faith’s work was Faith herself.”
“Which was impossible. She was dead.”
Stella blinked, then smiled. She picked up her coffee mug and took a sip. “Faith’s not dead. She just lives in Canada.”
Twenty-One
“Not dead?” Angelica murmured in disbelief.
Tricia had left Stella’s home in a fog. The ex- teacher wouldn’t say much more, leaving Tricia with far more questions than she’d had before she’d arrived. Armed with new knowledge, she knew she’d burst if she didn’t tell someone, and her first thought was to call her sister. She had pulled the cell phone from the pocket of her jacket and dialed.
“Well, where is she? Where’s she been?” Angelica asked, when she’d heard the tale.
“In Canada. Somewhere.”
“And no one knows she’s still alive—not even Nikki?”
“As far as I know, only you, me, and Stella know. She wouldn’t tell me more. She said it wasn’t up to her to out her former student.”
“But what about Faith? Why doesn’t she want her daughter to know she’s not dead?”
“Stella wouldn’t say. But if I had to guess, I’d say because it’s been over twenty years. Maybe she doesn’t want to intrude on her daughter’s life. Maybe she’s ashamed she left without taking Nikki with her. I know that would be my reaction.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Look for Faith myself.”
“In Canada?”
“No, on the Internet. The only clue Stella would give me was that Faith is still writing, and has been published.”
“Under her real name?”
“Apparently not.”
“That’s going to make finding her a little difficult, don’t you think?”
“Difficult, but not impossible.”
“Ha! Who died and made you Sherlock Holmes?”
“Hey, I’ve read enough police procedurals and true crime novels to have picked up a few tips.”
“Well, all I can say is ‘go for it.’ And tell me everything as soon as you know, will you? I feel like I’ve just put down a book I can’t wait to get back into.”
“You and me both.”
Tricia arrived back at Haven’t Got a Clue just in time for the afternoon rush, which kept her from her laptop for another hour. By then she was ready to jump out of her skin. But between customers she’d thumbed through the Sisters In Crime and Mystery Writers of America membership directories she kept near the sales register. Not surprisingly, there was no Faith Stone listed. She’d searched for last names that began with S that had first names beginning with F. There were no published authors she recognized.