* * *
I slept in on Sunday morning. When I finally made my way downstairs, I found Wolf, Nina, and Bernie in my kitchen with Mars. The kettle was whistling, and Bernie was turning pancakes on the griddle. The scent of bacon hung in the air.
“Looks like a party,” I said.
“Wolf came by to confirm that it was Abby whom you found.” Mars delivered a plate of pancakes to Wolf.
“Benton Bergeron came in to identify her.” Wolf poured maple syrup over his pancakes.
I plucked a slice of bacon from a platter and munched on it. “At least we found her. Any leads on her killer yet?” I asked.
Everyone turned to look at Wolf. He shook his head and ate a forkful of pancakes.
“I heard about it on the news this morning,” said Nina.
“What I don’t understand is why no one smelled anything.”
Wolf took a sip of coffee. “Lime. The killer poured lime on her. It’s for agricultural use but well known for absorbing strong odors.”
I nearly dropped the teakettle. “Fred!”
Wolf stopped eating. “What’s this?”
“Natasha and I went to visit Fred Conway. When we left, Alma Riddenhauer was out in her yard, and we stopped to chat. She told us that two bags of lime had been stolen from their yard.”
“Alma, cute little old lady? Always wears sunhats. Her husband is too old to be out in the yard with a chain saw but that doesn’t stop him?”
I smiled at Wolf’s description. “That’s the Riddenhauers. But you’ll have to be careful so Fred doesn’t see you. He lives on the other side of the street. I have a feeling the Riddenhauers spy on him all the time.”
Wolf continued eating. I snagged the next plate of pancakes and gave Bernie a big smooch on the cheek. “Thanks for fixing breakfast!” I sat down on the banquette with my friends.
“Do you think Fred could be the killer?” asked Mars. “I’ve never met the guy.”
“Don’t go jumping to conclusions. Just because bags of lime are missing doesn’t mean the killer stole them,” said Wolf. “And frankly, the Riddenhauers might well have misplaced them. I’ll look into it, though.”
When everyone except Mars left, I threw on a comfy sweater and soft jeans and hustled to my office to finish up the details on Tilly’s cookbook. I hoped to bring it over to her the next morning.
But while I should have been working, I looked up Peyton Poulon. There were hundreds of articles. Most of them had a lot of comments. There were multiple theories about who had taken her. Apparently, the parents themselves had been suspects. Pictures showed Kurt and Hannah Poulon as a traumatized young couple. Hannah was crying in most of the photos. Hannah’s brother and a neighbor had also been suspects. I found myself almost hoping that Briley or Schuyler was their missing baby. I couldn’t imagine their pain. How could a person cope with that kind of loss? Did they still get up in the morning and think of Peyton first thing, wondering if she was dead or alive? Were they numb? Or had they somehow come to terms with her absence just so they could move on and live their lives?
I read through article after article. Abby had been babysitting while Kurt and Hannah were at work. She had put Peyton down for her nap and left the bedroom. When she returned to the room, Peyton was gone. Abby had searched the house and the backyard. When she couldn’t find Peyton, she called the police, Hannah, and Kurt, in that order.
Peyton had been wearing a pink-and-white-striped shirt and pink shorts with bows on the sides. And then I read the one sentence that told me which girl she was.
Chapter 33
Dear Sophie,
My sister says the word spice means hot. I think it means something that isn’t an herb. One of us is buying lunch depending on your answer. Hope it’s not me!
Smarter Sister in the Nutmeg State, Connecticut!
Dear Smarter Sister,
You are correct. Herbs are from the leaves of plants. Spices come from the other parts of plants, like berries, bark, and roots. The word does not imply anything about the heat a spice imparts. Enjoy your lunch!
Sophie
Peyton has a distinctive port-wine stain birthmark on the back of her neck in the shape of a heart.
Schuyler was Peyton. I had mistakenly thought the heart on her neck was a tattoo. I would have felt sorry for either of them, but somehow it seemed wrenchingly sad that Schuyler had lost Mia, the only mother she had known, and now was likely to lose the man who had been a father to her. It boggled my mind to imagine what she would go through. How could a person cope with the discovery that she wasn’t who she thought she was? Traumatic didn’t begin to cover that kind of experience.
The shock and suffering to Schuyler aside, it also meant Mia had stolen her. Another fact that would come as a blow to Schuyler.
There was no other possibility. If her father, Pierce, didn’t meet Schuyler and Mia until Schuyler was five, something Wolf could undoubtedly confirm rather easily, then it could only have been Mia who abducted her.
But Mia had been murdered.
I thought back to Tilly’s description of Friday at her house. She said the girls were around and were trying out messy buns. That must have been when Abby saw Peyton’s birthmark on Schuyler’s neck. If she babysat for Peyton regularly, she would have known exactly what it looked like. Abby would have been in shock when she realized that the baby stolen from her thirteen years ago was miraculously standing before her.
Mia must have been there and seen Abby’s reaction. She knew she had finally been caught.
And Abby had been sufficiently fearful to have written Peyton’s name in code on the recipes. Then she went to dinner with Mars. I understood better why she might have done that. She probably found some degree of safety in his company and might have needed time to process what she should do next.
But how had both Mia and Abby ended up dead? If Mia went to Abby’s house intending to murder or confront her, then Abby would be dead, unless she fought back and overcame Mia’s attack on her. One of them should still be alive. And how did Charlene fit into the equation?
I tried to focus on the recipes, but my mind always wandered back to Mia. Tilly had called her a helicopter mom. It all made so much sense. Mia wasn’t an overprotective mother. She was making sure that no one recognized her daughter as the missing girl from Milwaukee. All those years of homeschooling had a purpose, and it wasn’t education.
Had Mia managed to enter Abby’s home? Was she hiding there waiting for Abby’s return?
I walked through the sunroom to the den. “Did Abby have a key to unlock her door when she came home after your dinner together?”
He looked up at me and his forehead crinkled. “Um, no. She fumbled in her purse and finally used a key that she keeps under a rock in case she locks herself out.”
Mia could have used that key to gain entry to the house, or she could have stolen the key from Abby’s purse while Abby was working at Tilly’s. “Thanks.”
“What’s going on?”
I explained the birthmark on Peyton’s neck. “Mia kidnapped Peyton. I’m sure of it.”
“Then why is she dead?”
“There’s the rub. I don’t know.”