money, credit cards or ID?”
“So did Belle give her a job?”
“You know what a big heart Belle has. With a social services number or credentials, she couldn’t hire her as a stylist. But she’s giving her a few casual hours, shampooing and sweeping, that sort of thing.”
“Interesting.”
“Is it?”
“I’ve never met anyone suffering from amnesia before.” After a brief pause he continued. “Weren’t you just saying my hair is getting a little long?”
Charlotte shook head, amused, but not surprised.
Dougal could claim he wanted to try his hand at fiction.
But it was the real life mysteries that got him, every time.
chapter thirteen
day 4 after the accident
m uriel Quinpool lived in an upscale condo complex overlooking east Sacramento. Mature oak trees guarded the perimeter, while the inner courtyard was colorful and lush with summer flowers. Wade’s mother had been a gardener. He felt sure she would have approved.
“Posh place,” Duane commented as they waited to be admitted by the doorman.
The portly man seemed annoyed to lift his head from his newspapers. He told them to take the elevator up to the fourth floor, then bowed over the sports page again.
Of course Duane had to take the stairs. Wade followed, albeit at a slower pace. He supposed the exercise wouldn’t hurt.
Muriel took a long time to answer the door, after their knock. Despite the fact that Duane had warned her they’d be coming, she had a puzzled frown as she looked from one of them to the other.
“Hello, Mrs. Quinpool,” Wad said. “Sorry to disturb you, but we have a few questions.”
“Oh. Yes. Wade. Please come in.”
She looked gaunt and tired, much as Wade remembered her from Kyle and Jamie’s wedding in May. She was dressed nicely, though, and wore a pearl necklace Wade recalled from when he was a kid. To his memory, he’d never seen her without it.
She inclined her head when he introduced his Deputy Duane Carter, but said nothing else, just indicated they should follow her to the sitting room off the entrance. On the coffee table next to the sofa were two glasses of water, with ice and a slice of lemon. She waved her hand at the sofa and Wade and Carter each took a side.
As for Muriel, she settled in the high back chair facing them, as primly as the Queen of England, with her hands in her lap and her ankles crossed.
“How are you, Mrs. Quinpool?” Wade asked.
“Not in the best health, I’m afraid.”
“Oh?” When Child Services was looking to find the appropriate guardian for Chester and Cory, Muriel had demurred because of her health. “Nothing too serious, I hope?”
“Oh, aches and pains, mostly. Trouble sleeping. The normal complaints that come with aging.”
During his school years, Wade had spent a fair amount of time at Kyle’s house. But Muriel had always been in the background, not the sort of mother to offer a plate of home baked cookies, or try to chat with her son’s friends to get to know them.
Back then, her reticence had been appreciated. Wade and his pals had loved having free rein in the Quinpool’s basement, and there were always lots of chips and sodas to snack on in the kitchen.
Besides, if they wanted home baked cookies all they had to do was go to Wade’s house. Wade felt sad, thinking of those old days now.
“You’ve heard, no doubt,” Duane began taking the lead when Wade was slow to do so, “that Daisy Hammond’s body was found buried in the garden at the Hammond’s cottage off Old Forestry Road.”
She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Yes. I heard.”
Wade glanced at Duane, giving him silent approval to continue.
“Daisy died from a blow to her head, Mrs. Quinpool. Your son, Kyle, told everyone—including Daisy’s children, her parents and her sister—that she’d run out on them. But she hadn’t. All these years Daisy has been dead. Buried illegally, without benefit of a service or even a coffin.”
Partway through Duane’s
“So did Belle give her a job?”
“You know what a big heart Belle has. With a social services number or credentials, she couldn’t hire her as a stylist. But she’s giving her a few casual hours, shampooing and sweeping, that sort of thing.”
“Interesting.”
“Is it?”
“I’ve never met anyone suffering from amnesia before.” After a brief pause he continued. “Weren’t you just saying my hair is getting a little long?”
Charlotte shook head, amused, but not surprised.
Dougal could claim he wanted to try his hand at fiction.
But it was the real life mysteries that got him, every time.
chapter thirteen
day 4 after the accident
m uriel Quinpool lived in an upscale condo complex overlooking east Sacramento. Mature oak trees guarded the perimeter, while the inner courtyard was colorful and lush with summer flowers. Wade’s mother had been a gardener. He felt sure she would have approved.
“Posh place,” Duane commented as they waited to be admitted by the doorman.
The portly man seemed annoyed to lift his head from his newspapers. He told them to take the elevator up to the fourth floor, then bowed over the sports page again.
Of course Duane had to take the stairs. Wade followed, albeit at a slower pace. He supposed the exercise wouldn’t hurt.
Muriel took a long time to answer the door, after their knock. Despite the fact that Duane had warned her they’d be coming, she had a puzzled frown as she looked from one of them to the other.
“Hello, Mrs. Quinpool,” Wad said. “Sorry to disturb you, but we have a few questions.”
“Oh. Yes. Wade. Please come in.”
She looked gaunt and tired, much as Wade remembered her from Kyle and Jamie’s wedding in May. She was dressed nicely, though, and wore a pearl necklace Wade recalled from when he was a kid. To his memory, he’d never seen her without it.
She inclined her head when he introduced his Deputy Duane Carter, but said nothing else, just indicated they should follow her to the sitting room off the entrance. On the coffee table next to the sofa were two glasses of water, with ice and a slice of lemon. She waved her hand at the sofa and Wade and Carter each took a side.
As for Muriel, she settled in the high back chair facing them, as primly as the Queen of England, with her hands in her lap and her ankles crossed.
“How are you, Mrs. Quinpool?” Wade asked.
“Not in the best health, I’m afraid.”
“Oh?” When Child Services was looking to find the appropriate guardian for Chester and Cory, Muriel had demurred because of her health. “Nothing too serious, I hope?”
“Oh, aches and pains, mostly. Trouble sleeping. The normal complaints that come with aging.”
During his school years, Wade had spent a fair amount of time at Kyle’s house. But Muriel had always been in the background, not the sort of mother to offer a plate of home baked cookies, or try to chat with her son’s friends to get to know them.
Back then, her reticence had been appreciated. Wade and his pals had loved having free rein in the Quinpool’s basement, and there were always lots of chips and sodas to snack on in the kitchen.
Besides, if they wanted home baked cookies all they had to do was go to Wade’s house. Wade felt sad, thinking of those old days now.
“You’ve heard, no doubt,” Duane began taking the lead when Wade was slow to do so, “that Daisy Hammond’s body was found buried in the garden at the Hammond’s cottage off Old Forestry Road.”
She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Yes. I heard.”
Wade glanced at Duane, giving him silent approval to continue.
“Daisy died from a blow to her head, Mrs. Quinpool. Your son, Kyle, told everyone—including Daisy’s children, her parents and her sister—that she’d run out on them. But she hadn’t. All these years Daisy has been dead. Buried illegally, without benefit of a service or even a coffin.”
Partway through Duane’s
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