“No way!” I say with a laugh. “I’ve told you, Thanksgiving deserves its day of glory. Besides, we have a lot of locals booked at Jameson’s for Thanksgiving dinner. If we spoil it for them, they won’t come back the following week for our big lighting ceremony.”
Katherine considers this. “You’re right. I didn’t think of that.” She gives a little shrug. “Just as well. I’ve ordered the most amazing autumn flowers, and I have some interesting concepts for the Thanksgiving arrangements.”
“I’m sure they’ll be beautiful.”
Katherine opens the door to her truck. “I guess my work here is done for the day.”
“Enjoy the rest of your weekend. I’ll see you tomorrow at the Friendsgiving. I hope you’re bringing Dean with you.”
She snickers. “Dean is thrilled. He could eat Thanksgiving food every day of the year.”
After Katherine leaves, I consider going back to the inn but decide to walk through the spa building instead. Having no workmen or architects around gives me a chance to scrutinize the progress, and I make long lists on the Notes app on my cell phone. Although I’ve managed to kill the better part of the afternoon, I’ve yet to receive word from Diana. At almost five o’clock, I’m walking back up the hill toward the inn when she finally calls.
“I’m sorry, Stella. I don’t know how I missed it. The discrepancies are there, plain as day. Naomi was crafty about her thievery. She stole small amounts that add up to a whopping sum. Over the past six weeks she’s pillaged over ten thousand dollars from the reservations department. This is all on me. I totally understand if you fire me.”
Diana is not the one I aim to fire. I sit down on a nearby park bench. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Diana. This is a lesson learned for both of us. Going forward, we need to be more careful. Is there a way to get documentation of the theft?”
“The pages are coming off the printer now. It will take some time, though. I can have the file ready for you by tomorrow morning.”
“That would be great,” I say. “I wouldn’t ask you to put in such long hours on the weekend if it wasn’t important.”
“I’m happy to help in anyway.”
After ending the call, instead of continuing up to the main building, I go to the cottage, get in my Jeep, and speed down the front driveway. My phone rings with a local number I don’t recognize, and I ignore it. Naomi’s car isn’t in her driveway, but I pound on her front door anyway. No one answers. Walking around to the garage door, I’m surprised to find it unlocked. I tiptoe into the house, passing through the kitchen to the living room where I find the television on, tuned into Nickelodeon, and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn and empty juice box on the coffee table. Strange. Even Naomi is responsible enough to turn the TV off.
I leave the door unlocked and get back in the Jeep. I want to talk to Jack before I make my next move, and I’m almost at his house when my phone rings again from the same unknown number. I answer with a tentative hello, and a female voice asks to speak with Stella Boor. In the background, I hear what sounds like a wild animal howling.
“Speaking. Who’s calling, please?”
“Detective Kathy Sinclair with the Hope Springs Police Department. I have your sister with me at the station.”
My heart skips a beat. My sister is only six. She can’t be in trouble. Is that Jazz I hear crying in the background? “What’s wrong, Detective? Is Jazz okay?”
“She’s fine, although quite upset as you can probably hear. I was on my way home from the station a while ago when I found her wandering around on a street about five blocks from her house. She claims she got lost on her way to find you at Hope Springs Farm. She’s adamant we call you instead of her mother. I got your cell number from the operator at the inn. Can you come to the station?”
“I’m on Main Street now. I’ll be there in five minutes.” When we hang up, I place another call to Brian, explaining what little I know about the situation. He promises to meet me at the station. Before we hang up, I ask him to call Jack for me.
At the police station, a rookie officer shows me to a small room with a table and chairs and no windows. When Jazz sees me, she stands abruptly, kicking her chair out of the way, and rushes into my outstretched arms. “Mommy found my phone and took it from me. I wasn’t running away, Stella. I promise. You told me not to. I was trying to get to you. But I got lost.”
“Shh! It’s okay, Jazzy. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.” Over the top of Jazz’s head, I study the woman more closely. She’s gorgeous with golden brown skin and high cheekbones, and her warm smile speaks to how much she cares about her job. “Do we know where her mother is, Detective?”
“Jazz claims her mother went out with her new boyfriend. As best I can tell, she’s been gone for some time.”
“Are you saying Naomi left Jazz home alone?”
The detective gives me a solemn nod. “It appears so.”
“I’ve just come from their house. That explains why the door was unlocked and the television left on.” My blood reaches the boiling point, and I pace in circles around the room as I jiggle Jazz to calm her. “This is the final straw, Detective. Naomi is not a fit mother. I’m ready to take whatever measures necessary to have this child removed from that home. I assume that means getting social services involved. Will you make that call?”
“I’m one step ahead of you. The agent is already on the way. She should be here momentarily.”
The
