make, Peter. Whether or not your marriage was perfect, it being over is ... different." I juggled the books and magazines to open the front door, ready to make my exit.
"Thanks, Betsy." He put his bowl down and hugged me again, this time a long, long hug. I was afraid my face would be blue from holding my breath that long. "No problem, Peter," I answered.
As I felt Peter let go of me, a blue Toyota pulled into the driveway. Edith Martin, a.k.a Destiny Wood, climbed out of the driver's side.
"Well, hello, Edith. Have you come to look at Vanessa's books?" I said as Peter and I moved away from each other.
She walked toward us, her sandals making tapping sounds as each foot hit the sidewalk. "Hello, yourself," her reply was crisp. Nothing like the sweltering love scene I'd heard her read at the library. I guess you couldn't be in that mood all the time, even if you do write romance. She stamped up the walk and pushed by me without a word and started up the stairs before even asking where Vanessa's study was. Had she been here before? Maybe this was her second visit to come look at books. For a woman who had so many novels penned, I was surprised she wanted some other writer's books.
"Edith, don't be that way," Peter said.
Suddenly I understood. She had been here before, but not to look through Vanessa's library. She was the other woman. Why hadn't I put it all together before? Could it have been the fact that Edith Martin did not look like anyone who would have an affair with a man who looked like Peter Markham? The two of them were so very different from one another. Peter was a handsome young man in his early thirties and looked like he had come straight out of a Hollywood casting call. Edith was Edith. She was so much older, probably weighed around 115 pounds and just didn't exude anything that seemed too seductive. She was the kind of woman I would invite to my book club, not set up with a young single male friend.
Peter's face flushed, realizing what I had just figured out. "Betsy ... it's complicated."
I backed up, nearly falling off the stoop. "I think I just realized that. It's also none of my business, Peter. Thanks for letting me stop by."
As he closed his front door, I pulled out my phone. Pattie would just die to hear this one. I rang up the bakery, and she finally answered on the fifth ring.
"Pattie, I think I know who Peter Markham's other woman is."
I heard a cash register ring in the background. "Thank you," Pattie said away from the phone, then she spoke directly into the phone. "Who?"
"Try Edith Martin."
"What? You're kidding me, right?"
"I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't just seen the two of them together."
"Where?"
"I was just at Peter's house, digging through Vanessa's study to try and find something to take the heat off of me. And you'll never guess what I found stuffed in the back of her bookcases?"
"What?
"Empty boxes of your cupcakes. There had to be four or five of them. And on top of all that she actually had magazines out about nutrition and the dangers of junk food."
Pattie laughed. "You never know who the closet cupcake eaters are, do you?"
"It was when Peter was giving me a hug at the door that Edith drove up and got really huffy."
"Like she thought ..."
"Like she thought Peter and I had just ... well she's the one with the vivid imagination in that area."
"Oh my gosh, Betsy. You're lucky you got out alive. Did you ever stop to think it might have been Edith who killed Vanessa? Now we know she certainly had a motive."
I heard the cash register jingle again and Pattie's thank-yous.
"I didn't think of that, but I can't believe it. Edith was upset with me today, but generally she's been pretty nice to me. Not like Martha Hoffman."
"Oh, you can never tell about people, Betsy. Even the nice ones."
After we hung up, I thought about Pattie's statement. Had Edith killed Vanessa out of jealousy? If she had, why would she not work a little
"Thanks, Betsy." He put his bowl down and hugged me again, this time a long, long hug. I was afraid my face would be blue from holding my breath that long. "No problem, Peter," I answered.
As I felt Peter let go of me, a blue Toyota pulled into the driveway. Edith Martin, a.k.a Destiny Wood, climbed out of the driver's side.
"Well, hello, Edith. Have you come to look at Vanessa's books?" I said as Peter and I moved away from each other.
She walked toward us, her sandals making tapping sounds as each foot hit the sidewalk. "Hello, yourself," her reply was crisp. Nothing like the sweltering love scene I'd heard her read at the library. I guess you couldn't be in that mood all the time, even if you do write romance. She stamped up the walk and pushed by me without a word and started up the stairs before even asking where Vanessa's study was. Had she been here before? Maybe this was her second visit to come look at books. For a woman who had so many novels penned, I was surprised she wanted some other writer's books.
"Edith, don't be that way," Peter said.
Suddenly I understood. She had been here before, but not to look through Vanessa's library. She was the other woman. Why hadn't I put it all together before? Could it have been the fact that Edith Martin did not look like anyone who would have an affair with a man who looked like Peter Markham? The two of them were so very different from one another. Peter was a handsome young man in his early thirties and looked like he had come straight out of a Hollywood casting call. Edith was Edith. She was so much older, probably weighed around 115 pounds and just didn't exude anything that seemed too seductive. She was the kind of woman I would invite to my book club, not set up with a young single male friend.
Peter's face flushed, realizing what I had just figured out. "Betsy ... it's complicated."
I backed up, nearly falling off the stoop. "I think I just realized that. It's also none of my business, Peter. Thanks for letting me stop by."
As he closed his front door, I pulled out my phone. Pattie would just die to hear this one. I rang up the bakery, and she finally answered on the fifth ring.
"Pattie, I think I know who Peter Markham's other woman is."
I heard a cash register ring in the background. "Thank you," Pattie said away from the phone, then she spoke directly into the phone. "Who?"
"Try Edith Martin."
"What? You're kidding me, right?"
"I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't just seen the two of them together."
"Where?"
"I was just at Peter's house, digging through Vanessa's study to try and find something to take the heat off of me. And you'll never guess what I found stuffed in the back of her bookcases?"
"What?
"Empty boxes of your cupcakes. There had to be four or five of them. And on top of all that she actually had magazines out about nutrition and the dangers of junk food."
Pattie laughed. "You never know who the closet cupcake eaters are, do you?"
"It was when Peter was giving me a hug at the door that Edith drove up and got really huffy."
"Like she thought ..."
"Like she thought Peter and I had just ... well she's the one with the vivid imagination in that area."
"Oh my gosh, Betsy. You're lucky you got out alive. Did you ever stop to think it might have been Edith who killed Vanessa? Now we know she certainly had a motive."
I heard the cash register jingle again and Pattie's thank-yous.
"I didn't think of that, but I can't believe it. Edith was upset with me today, but generally she's been pretty nice to me. Not like Martha Hoffman."
"Oh, you can never tell about people, Betsy. Even the nice ones."
After we hung up, I thought about Pattie's statement. Had Edith killed Vanessa out of jealousy? If she had, why would she not work a little
Similar Books
