By mid-afternoon, Hope had done as much baking as she could do. She sipped a cup of coffee behind the counter with Edsel, as traffic had slowed.
“Know anything about Clive Thomas’s siblings?” Hope asked.
“Sug,” Edsel answered, “everyone knows a little about them, on account of the Culpepper House. His sister, Hortense, not a name I would give to a child, ran away when she was sixteen. She went to California till she was thirty and then came back. There are rumors about her getting into trouble out there, but no one knows the real truth. And Clive’s brother, Montgomery, has been in and out of jail several times. Mostly for drinking and driving, but he was in there once for doing something with a young girl. The girl’s parents didn’t want a trial or anything, especially since Clive paid them some money. That’s the story on that. I believe it was Carol who kept Tense and Monty away from the Culpepper House. Clive might have been a rogue, but he was a soft touch for his family.”
“Are the brother and sister still around?”
“As far as I know. You can bet your bottom dollar that they’ll pop up now that Clive is dead. They’re bloodhounds when it comes to money.”
“I guess a lot of people are like that. It’s the same up north.”
Edsel laughed. “People are people the world around.”
“And that’s a fact.” Hope nodded.
Twenty minutes later, she walked into the police station, hoping that she hadn’t missed too many messages from Cori. She wanted Cori to have a great, fun vacation. Of course, Hope was pretty sure that Cori wasn’t going to worry too much if her mother didn’t answer a text right away.
“It’s you!” A woman’s voice accosted her.
Hope turned to the voice, which belonged to a woman she didn’t recognize.
“Excuse me?” Hope asked.
“You’re her. You’re the woman who killed my brother.”
Hortense Thomas was wasted. That was the term that came to Hope’s mind. Thin to the point of being sick, lank, with lackluster hair and bloodshot brown eyes, the woman had a rather ugly scar running down her cheek. Hortense looked much older than she was. There was no healthy glow about her, just the aura of failure. Her leather jacket was stained, and her boots were in need of care. Her blue jeans were at least one size too large.
“I’m sorry,” Hope said. “Who are you?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know me,” the woman said.
“We’ve never met,” Hope said.
“I saw you at the Pepper. I know who you are.”
“I was there once. I don’t recall seeing you there.”
“Why did you kill my brother?”
“I didn’t kill your brother.” Hope defended herself.
“Was it because he was dumping you? You couldn’t take being tossed out?”
Hope was pretty sure she was not going to be able to reason with the woman, and she was not in the mood to try.
“Look,” Hope said. “I don’t have time for this. I was not involved with your brother, and I did not harm him. So, if you don’t mind…” She moved past the woman.
“You won’t get away with it,” the woman shrieked. “I know you did it, and I’m going to see you go to prison!”
“That’s enough.” Detective Robinson came into the lobby and turned to the desk sergeant. “Please take Ms. Thomas to interview room one.”
Hope watched as the uniformed police officer escorted the woman from the lobby.
“Sorry about that,” Detective Robinson said. “She isn’t known for her tact.”
“Not a problem,” Hope said. “You have my phone?”
He pulled the phone from his pocket. “I had the guys clean it up after looking for prints. I don’t have their full report yet. When I do, I think we might want to talk.”
“I’m available,” Hope said. “Just call me.”
“By the way, why did you delete it?”
“It?” Hope waited for him to be more specific, and she had the feeling he was waiting for her to guess.
“Clive’s last text. Why did you delete it?”
“Because I had no intention of talking to him … ever … and especially not on Christmas Eve.”
“Any idea why he needed to talk to you?”
“None at all. As far as I was concerned, we were never going to meet again.”
Derrick nodded.
Hope knew her answer was far from satisfactory, but that couldn’t be helped. She had told him the truth.
“I’ll call you,” the detective said.
On the way to her SUV, Hope checked for texts from Cori. There were two, both from Raleigh, before they boarded the plane. Hope answered the text, knowing that Cori would not pick it up until she landed in San Francisco, which would be soon. A short layover there, and then Cori would leave for Hawaii.
At home, Hope felt the full weight of being alone. She told herself that she wasn’t really alone, as Max was somewhere about. But she didn’t have Cori … and she didn’t have Doug.
Alone.
Hope poured herself a glass of wine and headed for the attic. She figured she would have enough time to open up another file, or maybe read through Max’s list again. She might even take a crack at the journals, although she trusted Max to give them a thorough read.
She had hardly settled into her chair when the doorbell rang. She considered not answering. She had no desire to talk to anyone.
Yet, she would talk to Detective Robinson, as he might have information. When Hope opened the door, she found a stranger on her porch.
“Can I help you?” Hope asked with some hesitation.
“Yes,” the man said. “I need to know what Clive said to you.”
“Excuse me.” Hope’s eyes widened with surprise and more than a little annoyance.
The man was younger than Clive, but there was a resemblance, if Hope took the time to look. But unlike Clive, this man was heavy and slovenly looking, wearing clothes that were too tight and disheveled.
“I’m Monty,” the man said. “Clive’s brother. I want to know what was going on between you and my brother.”
“There was nothing between me and your brother,” Hope said, tired of being falsely accused. “So, we have nothing to talk about.”
“He died right here, didn’t he?” Monty gestured to the porch.
Hope was happy that the police had taken down the crime tape. “I have nothing to say to you. But I would like to ask you a question. Where were you on Christmas eve?”
“At home.”
“With someone?”
“No, I was getting myself ready for Christmas day with friends.”
“So, you have no alibi.” Hope stared at the man.
“Why would I harm my brother?”
“Perhaps, because he was getting ready to sell Culpepper House?”
Monty’s face paled. “That’s a lie. Clive was not going to sell. The restaurant has been in our family for decades.”
“I’m afraid, we both know the truth,” Hope said. “If I were you, I’d work on an alibi. It might come in handy.”
Monty backed up, his face twisted in anger, his lips wet with spittle. “I don’t need an alibi, but you do. I’ve heard about you, a Northerner invading our town. Well, you won’t get away with murder, not here. We know how to handle people like you.”