“I never thought you did, Mom, but you might want to check with him about what you can share about the case and what he prefers you keep quiet about at least for now.”
“Oh dear, you’re right about that. I wouldn’t want to say anything that would jeopardize the case,” my mom said with concern. “I will speak with him right away. Toodles.”
My mom could hold her own in an interview. Actually, as good as Gail Fergus was at interviewing people, she was no match for my mom. And I had no doubt she would outshine Mayor Barrett.
“I made myself another cup of tea and wandered into the library. I was glad to see it finished, all the shelves filled, and my aunt’s vintage fashion books stacked neatly on a small table. I drifted over to the scraps of papers Ian and I had found tucked in various books and had dropped in a basket. I had the habit of late of snatching one up to see what wisdom it might impart or give me a glimpse into my aunt’s life.
Foolishness of the young often turns to regrets of the old.
Had Deanna been foolish? Had she become involved with someone she shouldn’t have? What had brought her to that section of the lodge that night? What had happened that caused her death?
My cell rang and I saw it was my dad.
“I need a favor, Pep,” he said after I greeted him with a cheerful hello.
“Of course, Dad,” I said without knowing what it was, anxious at hearing the concern in his voice.
“Stan’s daughter’s flight has been cancelled due to the snow already falling in parts of the south where they’re not used to it. She asked to see her dad and talk with his doctor via FaceTime. I don’t have anyone to spare. I even had to bring the officer watching over Stan in to help out. We’re already setting up road closures in areas that get hit particularly hard and seeing that the elderly remote people are well-stocked for any possible duration. Could you go see to this for me?”
“Sure, Dad, not a problem.”
“At least I don’t have to worry about you being alone in a snowstorm this time. Ian will be with you.”
“That he will,” I said, knowing he was looking for confirmation. Not that he had to worry, I did fine on my own, but like a dad, he worried anyway.
“Great. One less thing to worry about. Let me know how it goes at the hospital and thanks, Pepper. I knew I could count on you.”
No sooner as the call ended than my cell dinged. It was Ian letting me know he and Mo would be busy until close to supper unless the snow returned. Then they would call it quits.
I sent him a quick text letting him know what I was doing and with both of us busy it was clear we wouldn’t be hearing from each other until later today. Hearts and kiss emojis were sent back and forth and I had to laugh since at one time I thought they were corny, now—being in love—I thought differently.
I hurried to dress and naturally, I grabbed the package of winter underwear to try and drats if the material didn’t feel great against my skin and fit perfectly as well as doing what it intended to do… keep me warm.
It took a while once at the hospital to get everything arranged. The doctor had a full schedule so the few minutes I had with him I spent recording him on my phone explaining Stan’s condition since he had last spoken with her.
Stan still hadn’t woken up, but I made sure he looked his best under the circumstances and though his daughter, Barbara, shed some tears upon seeing her dad, she appeared pleased with his care.
“It was generous of Sheriff Madison to arrange this for me, and for you to film talking with the doctor,” Barbara said. “I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. My dad and your dad go back many years.”
“That they do, and my dad continues to speak highly of your dad and what a fair man he is. He enjoyed working cases with him,” Barbara said.
I took the opportunity to ask, “By any chance did your dad ever mention the name Deanna Wilkins?” The silence that followed told me that Barbara was giving it thought.
“No, it doesn’t ring a bell, but Dad never brought his work home with him.”
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with his work. Maybe someone he met or one of his friends knew?” I asked, thinking about his friends who had been with him that weekend of the murder.
“I’m afraid not,” Barbara said. “Does she have anything to do with what happened to my dad?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” I said.