“Never? Are you sure? He lived in Nags Head in the mid-nineties.”
“I’m sure.”
“It’s rather uncomfortable standing here on the porch. It’s so hot today. Do you mind if I come in?” I gave her what I hoped was my biggest, friendliest smile.
She didn’t smile in return. But she did open the door a crack and take a step out of my way.
I slipped past her into the house. The foyer was small and dark, and the first thing I noticed was that it was crowded with large cardboard boxes. I took a discreet peek into one of them: empty. “Are you moving?”
“Is that any of your business?”
“Uh, I guess not. Just asking.”
“If you must know … yes, I’m moving. I’m leaving this dump at last and going to Mount Dora. That’s in Florida.”
“I know.” Someone had mentioned Mount Dora recently. I struggled to remember.
“Do you know when the police will be releasing Helena’s body?” she asked. “I’d like to get the funeral over and done with.”
“No, sorry, I don’t know.” I didn’t mention that I am not with the police, and I wouldn’t be someone they’d tell about something like that. I’d first met Tina in the company of Detective Watson, and if she wanted to believe the police involved me in their investigations, maybe I wouldn’t look quite so much like a nosy librarian.
“It’ll be up to me to make the arrangements, I suppose,” she said. “We didn’t get on, but Helena was my sister. My twin sister. I feel as though part of my soul has been ripped out of me. It’s not a nice feeling.”
That was where I’d heard mention of Mount Dora. Helena had lived there. “You’re going to Helena’s place?”
Tina nodded. “She left it to me in her will. She owns her house free and clear. One thing I’ll say for Helena, once she settled down and got rid of ridiculous notions about finding her Prince Charming, she became careful with her money. She didn’t make a lot as a librarian, but she carefully invested what she did make and had a nice sum to take her into her retirement.”
I was about to offer my condolences once again, when Tina let out a burst of laughter and punched the air with her fist. “And now it’s all mine! She nagged me constantly, criticizing me as a wastrel. I guess she thought I’d go first so she could make the gesture and mention me in her will.” Tina held out her arms, indicating the small house, the empty foyer. “I did the same for her, but that didn’t mean much. The mortgage on this dump is pretty large. Helena’s house and savings, plus what our mother left her, will set me up nicely. I’ve never been to Florida, but I’ve been reading up on it. The paranormal history of Mount Dora is nothing like here in Nags Head, but it does have some interesting points. I’m sure I can get up to speed quickly, with the proper influences.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Unlike that Louise Jane McKaughnan and her flake of a grandmother. Bunch of frauds in that family, every last one of them, but they think they’re so high and mighty with their airs about being a longtime Outer Banks family. She’s a friend of yours, isn’t she?”
“A friend? I wouldn’t say we’re friends exactly. We know her at the library.”
“Which is why I’ve never been there. Look, I’m sorry if I don’t have time to offer you a glass of tea, but I’m busy here. What do you want?”
For a moment I couldn’t remember what I wanted. All I could think was that Tina had clearly benefited from the death of her twin sister. What do they say in the classic mystery novels? Cue bono. Who benefits.
Tina Ledbetter benefited.
“Oh, right. I was wondering about Jeff. Jeff Applewhite. Did Helena know him?”
“Considering I told you I’ve never heard of the guy, it’s unlikely I’d know if Helena did.”
Rachel told me Tina moved in the same circles that she had in her wild days. Even if Tina had never met Jeff, she had to have heard of him. His name was linked to the disappearance of the necklace, and that had been a big story at the time. “Jeff Applewhite was in the news in May of 1995, in connection with a theft from Rachel Blackstone’s home.”
Tina shrugged. She tried to look nonchalant, but something moved in her eyes. “Oh yeah. That. I’d forgotten about that. It happened a long time ago. Nothing to do with me.”
“Did you know Rachel?”
“Everyone in Nags Head knows Rachel Blackstone.”
“Back then, I mean. Were you friends?”
She gestured toward the open door. “Like I said, I’m busy.”
“Were you at a party at Rachel’s house on the night of April 30, 1995?”
“You expect me to remember what I was doing on one day twenty-five years ago?”
“Not in normal circumstances, no, but a valuable necklace was stolen that night, and the police would have been asking everyone who’d been there about it. It got a lot of press. Things like that make events stand out in people’s minds.”
“Whether I was at this party or not, I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”
“Just curious. Was Helena there? Did you and Helena go together? Was Helena friends with Jeff?”
She stepped toward me and loomed over me, invading my private space. I don’t like these questions, and I don’t think I like you. If you don’t leave, right now, I’m calling the cops.”
“No need to get aggressive,” I said.
“Isn’t there?”
I took a step backward. Then another. “Thanks for your time.” The door slammed shut, barely missing the tip of my nose.
Chapter Fourteen
Monday evening, The Bodie Island Lighthouse Library Classic Novel Reading Club met to discuss The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins, written in 1868. As I’d told Aunt Ellen, The Moonstone is considered to be an important novel in the evolution of crime and mystery fiction, and I was looking forward to discussing that with
