Tricia waited for a minute or two for the old woman to continue, but Grace seemed to have lost interest in the conversation.
"Mrs. Harris? Mrs. Harris?"
"How is it you came to buy this pin?" Grace said at last.
"I bought it from a woman named Winnie Wentworth. I believe she got it at a tag sale at your home. She sold it to me last week. She was killed in a car accident the very same day."
"Killed? Oh my. An accident?"
"I'm not sure."
A tear rolled down Grace's cheek, and her gnarled hand still clasped the pin on her chest. "I love this pin. It meant so much to my grandmother. She gave it to me when I was a bride. I have her wedding band hidden with some of my other jewelry. It would break my heart to know it, too, was gone."
Feeling the need to ease the old woman's pain, Tricia found herself patting Grace's back. "Do you remember the last time you saw your son?"
Grace stared straight ahead again, her gaze unfocusing. "At my home. We argued over…" She shook her head. "We argued."
Probably over money, or Mike's pilfering. And shortly afterward, Grace had ended up in St. Godelive's.
"I've asked about leaving here," Grace said, "but they won't give me a straight answer, and I must get to my home to stop Michael from stealing from me. I don't know you, but-" She glanced up at Tricia with worried bloodshot eyes. "Would you help me?"
Despite the need to clear her own name, Tricia had no hesitation in answering. "Of course. What do you want me to do?"
"Please make sure the rest of my jewelry is safe. I had two beautiful jewelry boxes in my bedroom, but I've also hidden some of my most valuable items just to keep them out of Michael's reach. Gifts from my husband, and some that belonged to my mother and grandmother. Then there's Jason's coin collection. It's worth tens of thousands. Michael helped himself to some of it after his father died."
"Where should I look?"
"There's a small trapdoor on the floor at the head of the bed in the master bedroom. I don't think Michael knows about it."
"How will I get into the house?"
"You'll find a spare key inside the garage. It hangs on the back wall on a nail under a little framed picture of flowers…if he hasn't sold that, too," she added bitterly.
"I'll try to get there either tonight or tomorrow, and I'll come back and tell you what I've found."
Grace clasped Tricia's hand. "I'm trusting you-a stranger. Please help me."
Tricia swallowed down a lump in her throat and nodded. "I will."
Seventeen
Tricia stood at St. Godelive's third-floor nurses' station, trying to make sense of what she'd just learned. "And you say Grace's memory just seems to have returned-like magic?"
"More like a miracle," Martha said, and grinned. "I've worked with the elderly for over twenty years, and you don't see it happen often, but when it does, it truly is a gift from God."
Miracle my foot, Tricia thought cynically. Something had to have changed for Grace, but Tricia wasn't about to speculate in front of someone working for St. Godelive. Could she trust any of them? Mike would had to have had help in keeping Grace senseless. But who? A staff member? Maybe her own physician? No one else came to visit Grace, so that seemed most likely.
"I'd like to come visit Grace again. You don't see any problem with that, do you?"
"Not at all. In fact, stimulation is the best thing for her at this point in her recovery."
Tricia gave the nurse a smile. "Thank you."
Dressed in a neon pink Hawaiian shirt, Frannie Mae Armstrong stood on the porch outside the chamber of commerce's offices, watering the fuchsias as Tricia drove past. She slowed and honked the horn. Frannie bent down, squinted, recognized her, and waved.
Tricia parked her car in the village's municipal lot and hiked the half a block to the C of C office. With no sign of Frannie outside, she entered the log cabin to find the secretary-receptionist attending to her indoor plants. "Hi, Frannie," she called.
"Well, how-do, Tricia. What brings you back to the chamber?"
"I've been admiring your flowers on the porch," she lied. "They're beautiful."
"I feed 'em liquid plant food. Works like a charm. But they won't last much longer. First frost and-" She made a slashing motion against her throat. "Then again, the porch roof might protect them for another week or two, unless the remnants of Hurricane Sheila washes them away in the next twenty-four hours. It's always a crapshoot with those babies." She retreated to the counter and set down her watering can. "I saw your window had been broken when I drove by yesterday. Did the sheriff figure out who did it?"
"Not yet."
Frannie clicked her tongue. "It's just terrible what's been going on here in Stoneham this past week. I would've never believed it. Maybe in Honolulu, but not here."
"Honolulu?" Tricia asked. Talk about a non sequitur.
Frannie smiled broadly. "Where I plan to retire. It's a big city compared to Stoneham. Mighty expensive, too. But my heart's set on it." She pulled at the lapel on her shirt and winked. "I've already got my wardrobe."
Tricia could do little more than gape at the woman.
"Now," Frannie said, all business. "What can I do for you today?"
Tricia struggled to change mental gears. "I'm still trying to figure out where Bob Kelly could have been last Tuesday night after he left the Brookview Inn. Any chance you can tell me?" she asked brightly.
Frannie's lips tightened. "He had a business meeting."
"With a representative from a big box company?"
"I can't tell you that," Frannie said. "I can't tell you any more."
"Oh, come on," Tricia chided. "It's no secret. Everyone in the village is talking about it."
"Who?"
Tricia shrugged. "Everybody."
"Now, Miss Tricia, you wouldn't want me to blab my boss's business, risk my job, just to satisfy your curiosity, now would you? Surely you'd expect that kind of loyalty from your own employees."
Tricia blinked. "Well, yes, of course. It's just that-" She realized that no matter what she said, she already looked a fool. "I'm sorry, Frannie. I didn't mean to put you in a compromising position."
"Well, of course you didn't," Frannie said in all sincerity. "I can understand where y'all are coming from. Things don't look good for you right now." She lowered her voice confidentially. "We all read the story in Friday's Stoneham Weekly News. "
Tricia's cheeks burned, but she kept her lips clamped shut.
"It's been said you think Bob might have killed Doris Gleason. Now, I don't know about you, but I prefer to believe in the good in people. My daddy always said hearsay and gossip is just not nice. And I know in your heart of hearts that you don't believe Bob would hurt anybody. He's a good man, and I know you're a good woman. I just know these things."
"Thank you," Tricia managed, feeling even smaller.
An awkward silence fell between them.
The phone rang and Frannie picked it up. "Stoneham Chamber of Commerce. Frannie speaking. How can I help you?"
Tricia inched away from the counter, reaching behind her to find the door handle.
"Hold on just a sec," Frannie told the caller. "Now you have a good afternoon, Miss Tricia."
Tricia forced a smile. "Thank you," she said and hurriedly left the office.
An impatient Ginny stood at the door when Tricia returned to Haven't Got a Clue. "Thank goodness you're here. I've nearly been jumping out of my skin for the last hour waiting for you."
"What's happened?" Tricia asked, concerned. "Why didn't you call me on my cell phone?"