Death of the Family Recipe (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 3) (42 page)

Even from across the street, I could see Jennifer was rattled. She stood on the porch for a moment, as though waiting for Kathy’s return, then went back inside. I sat there for a few seconds debating whether to follow Kathy or go to Jennifer’s door. Then I switched on the engine and hit the gas. Jennifer would have to wait.

When I reached Glenoaks and didn’t spot Kathy’s car in either direction, I scolded myself for hesitating. Out of instinct and nothing else, I turned left. A few blocks later, I spotted Kathy a just ahead of me. I eased off the gas and hung back. At Grandview, Kathy turned right, and I had to cut over quickly to avoid missing the turn. Still hanging back, I followed her to a cemetery off Grandview.

Waiting for Kathy to put more distance between us, I idled in the entrance. There was no traffic to blend into, and I didn’t want to risk being spotted by her — or worse, force a confrontation. After a couple of minutes, I proceeded into the park, slowly. As I neared the center of the park, I spotted Kathy's Lexus parked, about twenty yards away. I pulled over and parked beneath the shade of an old pepper tree and slouched down. Then I grabbed my binoculars out of the glove box and aimed them at Kathy.

She sat in her car for several minutes, and I wondered if she was going to turn around and leave again. Then she got out, carrying a bouquet of flowers. Quickly disappearing into an area thick with scrub oaks. I got out of my car to follow her.

Moving slowly, I sheltered behind trees as I scanned the grounds with my binoculars for Kathy — hoping not to bump into suspicious mourners. The trees thinned then opened to a clearing, and I spotted her kneeling in front of a small headstone. Ducking back into the cover of the trees, I used the binoculars to get a better look. She was talking to whoever lay in the grave beneath the cool, green grass and sadly so. After a few minutes, Kathy stood, leaving the bouquet of flowers at the base of the stone.

As she approached, I ducked behind another tree — but I didn’t miss her obvious grief and the hand covering her face as she passed. It was strange to think of Kathy Morrissey as vulnerable, and I felt a little sorry for her. Maybe it was her mother’s grave or some other close family member. I hesitated, wondering if I had a right to intrude on Kathy’s private life.

I remained where I was and watched as she got into her car, then drove away. She didn’t seem to notice my SUV as she passed it, and I fought the urge to hurry to my car and follow her again. I leaned against the ancient scrub oak I sheltered under. The rough bark dug into my back, birds twittered among its branches and a soft breeze rustled its leaves as though all was right with the world.

But all wasn’t right with the world, and I pushed off the tree and headed straight for the grave Kathy had so lovingly attended. I got turned around a few times, but eventually spotted the bouquet of brightly colored flowers laying beneath a small headstone. When I was a few feet away, I snapped a couple of pictures of the area so I could have a reference point if I returned. My irritation and suspicion of Kathy returned and I said, "Okay Kathy, let’s see what all the blubbering was about." But when I reached the gravesite I dropped to my knees and cried. "Daddy?"

I stared at the small gray headstone, adorned with angels and cursive letters. Rory David McClellan — 1962 – 1985.
Your love will light my way, your memory will ever be with me.
Had those been Rose’s last words to my father? I hoped so. Tears fell as I took pictures of his grave. I’d found him. Thanks to Kathy Morrissey. But why hadn’t she told me when we talked? She didn’t want to be reminded of Rose, she’d said, but what could remind her more of Rose than Rory? I sat with my father for a long while. Hoping he knew it was me — his daughter. Finally, I put my fingers to my lips then to the headstone. "I’ll be back, Dad. I’ll bring Ted and the babies. Okay?"

I walked slowly to my car, turning back constantly, feeling a pull I couldn’t deny. For a while, I sat in my car and wept. For Rose. For me. Maybe even a little for Kathy. I knew that Rose was dead, but in my mind Rory hovered in the ether in a way that made him alive to me. But no more. My pained doubled as I mourned them both.

Then I nosed the car toward Jennifer’s — it was time to talk.

She led me into her smartly done, modern living room. The walls were deep blue, the furniture ecru, with punches of yellow in pillows, throws and drapes. The fireplace was made of slate blue river rock and an oak mantle was home to many framed family photos. In the corner of the room, near the window was a reading nook with a couple of big easy chairs, bookshelves and a brass and glass reading lamp. Vases of fresh yellow and white lilies adorned table tops. "Your home is lovely."

"Thank you." Jennifer indicated the sofa. "Please, sit down."

I took a seat, and Jennifer excused herself to the kitchen to put on a pot of tea. While she was gone I studied the photos on the mantle more closely. Most of them were of Jennifer, Jason and a tall good-looking man with dark hair and eyes — her deceased husband, I assumed. The photos chronicled her family life, which seemed idyllic. But the photo I was most interested in was of Rose and Jennifer as young women. They smiled into the camera, heads bent together, arms around shoulders, and both dressed in red velvet.

"That was our last Christmas together."

Jennifer entered the room carrying a tray with a pot of tea and a plate of the sweet rolls.

I nodded and put the photo back in its place. "It’s a nice picture."

Jennifer set the tray on the coffee table. "I can have a copy made for you, if you like."

I went back to the sofa and sat. "I would like that, very much."

Jennifer served the tea. "I’m glad you came by."

I nodded. "I was out of line the other day. I’m sorry. The topic of my mother rattles me."

Jennifer patted my hand. "It’s all right. I understand."

I set my teacup on the coffee table and turned to Jennifer. "I’m sure you miss her too. She was your twin sister after all. You must’ve been close."

Jennifer nodded, staring into her teacup. "I miss her every day."

I took a deep breath, determined not to let things get out of control. "I went to see Kathy Morrissey a couple of weeks ago." I looked into Jennifer’s deep brown eyes. "Do you stay in touch with her?"

Jennifer set her teacup on the coffee table and smoothed her trousers. "Yes, in a manner of speaking." She shrugged. "She was Rose’s friend more than mine. But we see each other from time to time." She fluttered her hand toward the door. "Actually, you just missed her. She dropped by earlier."

"Really? Just in the neighborhood?"

Jennifer smiled. "No, she came by to tell me she’d met you." She bent and reached for something on the bottom shelf of the coffee table. Handing me a photo album, she said, "Kathy asked me to give you this."

I glanced at the album and held it on my lap. "Be sure to tell her I said thank you. But I wonder why she didn’t bring it to me herself. I gave her my card."

Jennifer waved a hand. "For all her bluster Kathy is a bit shy. I suppose she didn’t want to intrude."

I nodded and put the album on the floor next to my bag. "I see." I picked up my teacup again. "Well, thanks."

"Aren’t you going to look at the album? I thought you’d be excited to have more pictures of Rose."

"When I get home." I bit my lip. "This is hard for me, Jennifer. I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything. To understand. But the more I find out the more confused I am."

Jennifer nodded. "I know dear. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you. Especially after all these years of knowing nothing." She squeezed my hand, "But I can tell you that Rose would’ve been proud of you."

I blushed at the unexpected compliment. "You think so?"

Jennifer took my hand. "Oh yes. You’re a bright, lovely young woman. And so strong and determined — like your father." She patted my hair gently. "You have so much of both of them in you. I see it in your eyes and your spirit." A tear poised to fall. "You remind me so much of them."

I found myself liking Jennifer, but it felt disloyal to Rose. I had to get at whatever secret Jennifer was keeping from me. "I want to ask you something about Kathy, but I don’t want to argue."

Jennifer pulled her hand away, and her body stiffened. "All right dear."

I pulled out my phone and showed her the pictures of Rory’s grave. "I probably shouldn’t have, but I followed Kathy today to a cemetery." Tears fell and I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. "Why was Kathy bringing flowers to my father’s grave?" I looked at her. "And why isn’t he buried next to Rose?"

Jennifer made a face at the photo. "That isn’t right."

I smirked. "For once, we agree on something."

Jennifer shook her head. "No, I mean that isn’t Rory’s headstone." She frowned at me. "And he is buried in the same cemetery as Rose." Her voice cracked. "And yes, we should have them together, shouldn’t we?"

I held up my hand. "Wait a minute. Wait. What?" I shook my head. "Rory isn’t in the same cemetery. Rory is at Grandview, Rose is a Vahalla." I made a face at her. "Are you saying there are two different Rory McClellan’s?"

Then it was Jennifer’s turn to make a face. She shook her head. "No, he isn’t there. Believe me, I attended his funeral. I know where he’s buried."

I smirked. "Really? When was the last time you went to see him? I know it’s been a while since you’ve gone to Rose’s grave because there weren’t any flowers or cards laid at her gravestone."

Jennifer turned away, holding back angry tears. She blew out a loud breath. "Scotti, you have to stop this." She turned to me. "I know you’re angry and hurt, and I’m sorry for that. But everything that went wrong with your parents isn’t my fault."

I rubbed my face with both hands then pushed back my hair. "There was something wrong between Rose and Kathy wasn’t there? I sensed it when I talked to Kathy. Was it Rory?"

Jennifer fidgeted then nodded. "Yes, there was some jealousy over your father. Kathy had her eye on Rory. Why wouldn’t she? He was a handsome, mysterious rock musician. Like a drug to a young woman. Believe me, I know."

I reared back. "So Dad was a ladies man?"

Jennifer smiled. "Girls found him attractive, and Kathy certainly did.

I sidled up to Jennifer. "What happened?"

She flapped a hand. "A lot of silliness, really. Kathy came over one day and announced she’d met the man of her dreams. She was in love. He was the one. Naturally, our curiosity was piqued, and so we went to a party with Kathy to get a closer look." She nodded. "I have to admit, Kathy hadn’t exaggerated. Rory was so handsome it made you gasp. And charming. And funny." She smiled and looked suddenly young and naïve. "I could certainly see why Kathy was so taken with him."

I frowned. "Then how’d Rory end up with Rose?" I gasped. "She didn’t steal him from Kathy, did she?"

Jennifer reared back. "Hell no, she didn’t." She shrugged. "Fate, I guess you would call it. Rory got one look at Rose, and he was the one who was taken."

I laughed. "So Mom had it going on, huh?"

Jennifer frowned. "Quite the opposite. Rose was terribly shy. She never dated anyone until she met Rory. In fact, she cried when he asked her for a date because she feared he was teasing her." Jennifer clucked. "Rory had no interest in Kathy. Oh, he liked her well enough, as a chum. But he only had eyes for Rose." She looked at me. "That’s why I said fate. It was as though they were meant for each other. Only each other."

Tears welled in my eyes. "So they were in love? Truly?"

"Oh yes, they were."

"But Kathy never forgave Rose?"

Jennifer sighed and shrugged. "I think she got over it eventually. Kathy had eyes, and she could see who Rory cared for, and it wasn’t her. Still, I think it always stung a little."

I sat back. "So they didn’t fight about it, then?"

Jennifer frowned and shook her head. "No, there was never a fight. Tension for a while, but as time passed and certainly after Rose and Rory moved in together, Kathy let it go." She nibbled on sweet roll. "I suppose a bit of resentment popped up every now and then, but no one could stay mad at Rose. She was too kind and too sweet."

I cradled my belly. "I wish I could’ve known her." She took my hand, and we sat on the sofa in silence together. It was comfortable, familiar, even a little bit nice. "Aunt Jennifer?"

Jennifer startled at my salutation. "Yes dear?"

"I saw you and Kathy arguing when I drove up." I looked into her eyes. "That’s why I followed her. You both seemed so upset." I squeezed her hand. "What were you arguing about?"

Jennifer slid her hand out of mine and stood. She went to the window and looked out. "I hate these short days, we lose the light so early."

I played with my wedding rings on the chain around my neck. "Please, talk to me Jennifer."

"Jason loves the night time. When he was little, he’d go outside just before dark and rake up the leaves from that darn sycamore. He’d make a big pile and then burrow into it." She turned to me and grinned. "Then he’d wait until I came looking for him and jump out at me in the darkness." She shook her head. "He fooled me every time."

"I don’t want to argue, I don’t. But I know you’re keeping something from me. And I think you want to tell me. Are you scared? About what I’ll think or something?"