Cradling the little moccasins in her hands, Rachel closed her eyes and whispered a silent prayer for the person who’d made them and for the man who’d given them to her. Tears clouded her vision. “No,” she whispered. “No, you didn’t kill Daniel.”
Which led her to what Chuck had said. “It’s rarely a stranger. Look closer to home.”
* * *
Shortly after eleven the following day, Rachel parked her Jeep in the cobblestone drive behind George O’Day’s early-nineteenth-century stone house. When it was built, the O’Day Mansion had been the home of a wealthy merchant. Furnished with period German and Pennsylvania Dutch antiques, the house had always slightly intimidated Rachel. The wide plank floors were cushioned with Turkish and Iranian carpets, and some of the doorknobs were silver. Shelves of first-edition books lined the walls, and a staff had always kept the rooms dusted and the chandeliers polished.
Now, unfortunately, the staff included around-the-clock nurses. Her friend George was fast approaching the final days of his life. Rachel went to the kitchen entrance, crossed the screened porch with its lovely wicker furniture, and knocked at the back door. When there was no answer, she turned the knob and stepped into the dark kitchen. Spacious and equipped with every modern convenience, a stone fireplace, and massive overhead beams, the space was everything that a cook could possibly want without losing the charm and patina of an historical house.
“Ell!” Rachel called. “George! It’s Rachel!”
There was an explosion of high-pitched barking, the squeak of tiny claws on hardwood, and a small white bichon launched herself at Rachel. She bent over and the dog leaped into her arms and began to lick her face. “Yes, hello, Sophie,” Rachel said. She deposited Sophie firmly on the floor and the little dog proceeded to spin in circles and hop on her hind legs.
“Rachel.” Ell appeared in the doorway that led to the dining room.
“I hope you don’t mind. I just let myself in,” she said.
Ell smiled and hugged her. “You know there’s an open-door policy for you here. George will be thrilled. It’s been one of his good days.”
“Is he in a lot of pain?” Rachel asked quietly.
Ell shrugged. “He’s very brave. His nurse gave him his meds about a half an hour ago. She just left to pick up a new prescription.”
Ell was all in black, as usual, but instead of a long black dress, she wore black jeans and a black sweater set. Her long crow-black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she’d limited herself to a single nose and eyebrow ring, both in silver. Each delicate ear boasted an array of tiny silver fishhooks and cobwebs, and her only nod to her customary Goth makeup was black eye shadow and liner.
Ell was George’s niece by blood and his daughter of the heart. She may have said that George was having a good day, but Rachel could read the truth in the anguished expression in the young woman’s gaze.
“I haven’t seen you in the bookstore lately,” Rachel said.
Ell nodded. “I decided to take a few weeks off and be with him. We don’t have much time, and . . .” She swallowed as her large, expressive eyes teared up. “I guess we were in denial. The doctors didn’t think his remission would last as long as it did. We had a lot of good time together we hadn’t expected. But it’s still hard.”
Rachel hugged her friend again. “At least he has you.” As Ell stepped back, Rachel noticed the heavy antique ruby ring on her left hand. “Did I miss something?”
Ell’s cheeks colored. “Yes. Will wouldn’t take no for an answer and I finally said yes. George has given us his full approval and a prearranged honeymoon in Venice and Florence. I know that he was hoping he’d be here a few more years. He wanted to see Will and me settled and . . .”
“With a family of your own?” Rachel said. She knew Will Simpson, the town’s new dentist, and liked him wholeheartedly. She couldn’t have thought of a better match for Ell if she’d planned it herself.
“George has been trying to have us set a date for the wedding, but I . . .”
“You aren’t ready yet.” Rachel nodded. “I understand. Marriage is not anything to rush into.”
“It’s not. I want to be certain before I take my vows.” She shrugged. “I mean, I know that Will is the right man. But is it wrong to just enjoy being engaged for a while?” She met Rachel’s gaze. “You don’t think I’m being selfish?”
“I think you’re being sensible. If Will really loves you, he isn’t going anywhere, and you’re young yet. Marriage should be forever.”
“That’s what I think. You know Will was raised Mennonite.” She smiled shyly. “We’ve been attending the reformed Mennonite church in Belleville. That might be a good fit for us.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “No one has even remarked on my black dresses.”
“The important thing is whether you feel it’s right for you.” Rachel glanced into the dining room with its old Kirman carpet and the massive German furniture. “You set up a hospital bed for George downstairs?”
“Yes, in the big parlor. We made room by moving out the baby grand. You know George can’t be far from his books. He’s been hoping you’d stop by and wondering why you hadn’t.”
“I’m sorry.” Rachel felt a wave of guilt that she hadn’t been to see him in the last three weeks. “All of a sudden the wedding is almost here.”
“A week from today.” Ell clasped her hands.
“I’ve also been asking questions about the Fisher shooting.”
“It’s all anyone is talking about at the bookstore. You go on in to George. You know the way.” Ell
