“Probably not the only one, but she was likely only staying in school for the play, and when she wasn’t going to be the star, she left.”

  I vaguely remembered tears and tantrums. Doors slamming; Eve screaming into the phone with her friends, weeping on Dad’s shoulder. But I was an older sister. Whatever trauma my younger sibling might have been going through meant nothing to me. By then I was in college, home for the holidays and far too worldly to be concerned about any small-town high school drama club.

  Eve reached for the wine bottle. “All water under the bridge now. At least I have an acting career, no matter how much of a failure it might be. And Raquel was reduced to trying to fleece old men out of a couple of hundred bucks here and there.”

  “Where did you hear about that?” I asked.

  “Everyone’s talking about it, Merry,” Mrs. D’Angelo said. “George’s friend, Bob Gravel, reported it to the police, at George’s insistence, and George hasn’t been shy about warning other unmarried men of his acquaintance to be alert for scams.”

  “Bob lives in New York City, right? Is there any indication someone in Rudolph might have been one of Raquel’s intended victims?” I asked. “Is it possible she came here to get closer to him? Maybe she finally met someone with the money to support her in the style to which she wanted to become accustomed, and naive enough to fall for it?”

  “Not that I’ve heard; then again, he—provided there is a person—might be keeping it under wraps, particularly in light of what happened to Raquel. As for her, folks can put two and two together. I feel sorry for Raquel’s parents. In their time of grief, they have gossip about their girl to hear.”

  “As for whoever killed her,” Eve said, “there are a lot of better suspects than me. I told the cops that.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t know her,” Jackie said. “Sounds like she was a nasty piece of work. Only goes to show what fools men can be.”

  “Some of them,” Mrs. D’Angelo said. “Mr. D’Angelo had an eye for a pretty girl, and he never let anything like common sense interfere with that.”

  “You were married?” Vicky asked.

  “Of course I was, dear. But not for long, let me assure you. I saw the writing on the wall soon enough and showed him the door.” She grinned. “I got the house out of it, didn’t I?”

  Jackie burst into tears.

  “Goodness,” Mrs. D’Angelo said. “What did I say?”

  “Kyle,” Jackie gasped. “It’s all Raquel this and Raquel that. This afternoon, I called him to suggest we go to a movie tonight, and he said he doesn’t think it would be appropriate to see me for a while, as he’s in deep mourning. The light of his life has been extinguished.”

  Vicky glanced at me and raised her eyebrows. I suppressed a shudder. That had been a mighty thoughtless thing to say, even for the witless Kyle. I’d never liked Kyle, but surely even he couldn’t be that oblivious to the effect those words would have on Jackie’s feelings.

  Yeah, he could.

  “ ‘I thought I was the light of your life,’ I said.” Tears flowed down Jackie’s cheeks, and she didn’t wipe them away. “ ‘You’ll do,’ he said, ‘but … but … you’re not Raquel.’ ” Deep sobs.

  Mrs. D’Angelo snorted. “My point exactly. You’re better off without him.”

  “I don’t want to be without him. I love him. He’s the light of my life.”

  Okay, so my plan to cheer Jackie up wasn’t working. Still, better her getting it out here with us than home alone. I headed for the kitchen to get her a glass of water.

  When I returned, Vicky had left her chair and was crouched on the floor in front of Jackie. She held the other woman’s hands in hers. “I doubt he meant it. It’s the shock, right? Raquel dying reminded him of what thinks he lost when she went away. He’ll get over it soon enough.”

  Jackie lifted her head. She sniffled. “You think so?”

  “For sure,” Vicky said.

  I kept my opinion to myself. Once again, I had to wonder if Kyle’s over-the-top reaction to the death of someone he hadn’t seen in a decade was more one of guilt than grief.

  I handed Vicky the glass, and she gave it to Jackie. Jackie accepted it and took a long, deep drink. She settled back in her chair. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Too much wine, maybe.”

  “That’s all right, dear,” Mrs. D’Angelo said. “Sometimes we all need a good cry in the company of sympathetic friends.”

  “Soon as I saw her,” Jackie said, “driving into town, as bold as brass, I knew she was here to make trouble.”

  I dropped into my chair in something approaching shock. Was Jackie saying she’d seen, and recognized, Raquel?

  “When was this?” I asked.

  “Not long after the parade,” Jackie said. “I don’t remember exactly what day. I was coming to work and waiting to cross at the light near the library when Raquel, of all people, drove by, in a big fancy SUV.”

  “Are you sure it was her?” I asked. “If she was in a car?”

  Jackie’s face crunched up in thought. “I thought so at the time. Maybe not. It might have been someone else. She was wearing a hat and a scarf.”

  “Was she alone, this woman? Anyone else in the car?”

  “Not that I noticed, but I can’t be sure. It happened so fast, and whoosh … she was gone.”

  “Jackie,” I said. “Did you tell the police this?”

  “Tell them what?”

  “That you saw Raquel in town.”

  Jackie blinked. “Why would I do that? They never spoke to me about her or what happened. No reason they would. I mean, it’s not as if they were trying to find her. They knew she was in Rudolph. She died here, right?”

  No one said anything for a while. Jackie wiped her eyes and sipped her water. Mattie resumed his place on the rug and settled down. Mrs. D’Angelo scooped up a handful of nuts. Eve went into the kitchen for another bottle. Vicky stifled a yawn.

  I decided to process what Jackie’d said later and decide if it mattered. Jackie was right that no one had any doubt Raquel had come to Rudolph. If someone had been in the car with her, that might be highly significant, but Jackie hadn’t seen anyone.

  “Turns out my mom knows your friend Donalda,” I said to Mrs. D’Angelo. “Her children take vocal classes from her.”

  “Yes, I knew that. Donalda is very proud of those children. She never passes up an opportunity to brag about how well they’re doing in school or how talented they are.”

  “Did the police speak to her? About the goings-on at that house, I mean?”

  “I believe they did. Donalda was delighted at the chance to be of help. Unfortunately, she had no more to tell them than anyone else. She saw a car coming and going, garage doors closing and opening, shapes moving behind the curtains, but nothing more. No one even bothered to drop by to thank her for her casserole, as would have been the least you’d expect from new neighbors.”

  “I’ve heard Donalda’s husband has a reputation.”

  Mrs. D’Angelo’s lips tightened. “Is that so?”

  “What sort of a reputation?” Vicky asked.

  “Fooling around. Having affairs. That sort of thing.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jackie said. “He fancies himself quite the ladies’ man. Too bad for him none of the ladies agree.”

  “As I believe I said earlier,” my landlady said, “men aren’t worth the trouble.”

  I thought of my parents’ marriage, but I didn’t bother to argue the point. I thought of Alan, who made me happy. I glanced at Vicky. Newly married and blissfully content. Sometimes, men were worth the bother.

  Mrs. D’Angelo, who lived for gossip, changed the subject. “Eve, you must have met many famous people. Can you tell me about them?”

  “I have, yeah. Some of them can be really stuck-up, but some are very nice. Always thoughtful and kind. I was on set one day with—”

  I changed the subject back. “Did Donalda mention if her husband tried to meet the new neighbors?”

  Mrs. D’Angelo looked at me, her eyes wary. “Why are you asking me this, Merry?”

  “I’m wondering if it’s possible he went over to introduce himself to Raquel and … whoever was with her … and Donalda didn’t like that.”

  “Donalda is a perfectly respectable woman.” Mrs. D’Angelo’s tone turned as cold as the night air outside my windows. “She keeps a lovely home, has a good job and well-brought-up children. It is not her fault her husband is a scallywag and a layabout.”

  “Scallywag?” Eve said.

  “I prefer not to talk about my friends,” Mrs. D’Angelo said. “And I don’t care for what you’re implying.”

  Vicky caught my eye and wiggled her eyebrows at me.

  “I’m not implying anything, I’m just asking. We’re all wondering what happened over there.” I waved my index finger in the general direction of the Johannesen house.

  “You told us the police believe Raquel’s boyfriend did it,” Jackie said. “She’d obviously forgotten all about Kyle, the fool. She didn’t make any attempt to get in touch with him over all those years, did she? He wouldn’t have liked that one bit. He—” She slammed her mouth shut, and her eyes widened as she realized what she’d been about to say. That Kyle might have reacted badly if he came to understand Raquel hadn’t come back for him.

  Which, of course, raised the question as to why Raquel returned to Rudolph in the first place. And not only to Rudolph but to a house her parents owned, without bothering to let them know she was here. Had she chosen her hometown for a particular reason? Surely one could set up an illicit counterfeiting operation in any house, just about anywhere. Did Raquel specifically come to Rudolph for a man? A man the illusive Jean-Claude didn’t know about?”

  “What are you thinking, Merry?” Vicky asked. “You’ve come over all serious like.”

  “Serious? I suppose I am. We’ve started talking about a serious subject, right? The police are focusing their attentions on Raquel and her counterpoint’s criminal activities in general, beyond Rudolph. Which is good, for us, right? But—”

  “But you, being you, won’t let it go until you know for sure what happened.”

  “We may never know,” Eve said.

  “Mrs. D’Angelo,” I said. “Can I get you another glass of wine?”

  She lifted her glass. “That would be very nice, dear. Isn’t this pleasant. It’s been a long time since I’ve sat around and chatted with a group of young women.”

  “On to other topics,” Eve said, “I have to confess, I’m not looking forward to Mom finding out I didn’t get the part. She’ll launch into another one of her stories about someone she knew who persevered after many disappointments and eventually had a marvelous career.”

  “She means well,” I said from the kitchen. “You know that.”

  “I do. I also know because her career path was pretty much straight up the ladder at a rapid pace to the very top, she thinks anyone should be able to do the same with enough strength of will.”

  “Your mom knows luck plays an important part in anyone’s career,” Vicky said.

  “I don’t know if she does know that,” Eve said.

  I handed her a refilled glass and touched her shoulder lightly in sympathy.

  Vicky struggled to think of something neutral to talk about. “Did you know Raquel’s aunt well, Mrs. D’Angelo? When she lived across the street from you?”

  “Dorothy Johannesen. I can’t say I knew her well, but we had a casual acquaintance. She wasn’t one for making friends or for getting involved in the community. More the opposite. She kept herself to herself. I heard she was independently wealthy; she had a substantial trust fund from an inheritance, folks said.”

  “Was that true?” Vicky asked.

  “I can’t say for sure, but I never really believed it.”

  “I remember that,” Eve said. “When Raquel and I were hanging out together, she told me her aunt was a millionaire. I didn’t pay much attention, but Raquel constantly prattled on about how her aunt Dorothy was going to set her up in an apartment in Manhattan and pay for her to go to drama school.” She laughed. “We all know how well that turned out.”

  “If Dorothy did have money,” Mrs. D’Angelo said, “goodness knows what she did with it. She never traveled. Didn’t have a car. Didn’t put more money into that house than was needed to do the most basic of maintenance. For example, she could have hired a landscaping firm to cut the grass and trim the bushes, but she relied on the unpaid labor of a distant nephew. She didn’t get on with her closest relative, Raquel’s mother. Although, in the end, she left Beth the house. Dorothy’s supposed riches were nothing but a small-town rumor, one that grew in the telling.”

  “Might have had a grain of truth,” Vicky said. “Once upon a time. A million dollars sure isn’t what it was forty or more years ago. My grandfather is always exclaiming at what price houses around here are going for these days. It’s sort of his hobby now.”

  “I don’t believe any additional money went with the inheritance,” Mrs. D’Angelo said. “Just the house itself. The Torrone family had moved away by then, but only as far as Rochester. They didn’t act as though they’d come into a windfall. Andrea—you know Andrea O’Callaghan, of course, Merry—and Beth were good friends, and Andrea visited them several times after they moved. She said they lived in a nice but modest home in a nice but modest area.”

  “Maybe Dorothy left her money to Raquel,” Jackie said.

  “Unlikely,” Vicky pointed out, “if Raquel was reduced to cranking out twenty-dollar bills in a Rudolph cellar and fleecing lonely old men.”

  “My dad said Dorothy was considered a pest at town hall,” I said.

  Mrs. D’Angelo laughed and sipped her wine, relaxing once again now she was back in comfortable territory: gossiping about people she didn’t consider personal friends. “Goodness yes. She wasn’t at all popular on the street. She complained that the neighbor to her right cut the hedge between their properties back too much.”

  I drew up a mental image of the streetscape. “There’s no hedge there. Just a tall wooden fence.”

  “Indeed there is. Tired of her complaints, he cut the entire hedge down. Which was within his rights, as it was planted on his side of the property line. She was furious. She then attempted to get revenge by complaining to the town if their trash bins were left out too long after collection or if they were put out too early.”

  “Sounds like the neighbor from hell,” Vicky said with a laugh.

  “She could be, if she took against you. She never caused me any real problems. Like I said, she kept to herself. She could even be kind on occasion. When I broke my foot, she brought over an endless stream of casseroles, some of which were quite good, and she took a list of things I needed from the supermarket for her nephew to get when he next did her shopping.

  “The neighbors, however, eventually moved, tired of the endless complaints. As for Dorothy herself, she was one of those people who suspect everyone is out to get them. She didn’t trust banks. She paid cash to any contractors she might hire, and even went to town hall twice a year with an envelope containing a wad of bills to pay her taxes. Not that she wanted to pay her taxes. She didn’t trust any level of government either. She believed the town had installed listening devices in the lampposts so they could listen in on her conversations.” Mrs. D’Angelo shook her head. “Although what, being a suspicious lady living on her own, she had to talk about that would be of interest to the town council, or anyone else in authority, she couldn’t say. Now, enough of that. Vicky, what’s happening with your book? I simply cannot wait to get my copy.”

  * * *

  I thought about what Vicky had said as Mattie and I took our nightly excursion through the dark, quiet streets of our neighborhood. The police had determined that Raquel’s death didn’t have anything to do with anyone in Rudolph. That should be sufficient to allow me to forget about the entire situation. But … pesky little niggling thoughts continued to run around the back of my mind. Was it as cut-and-dried as it seemed to appear? Perhaps not. Why had Raquel come back to Rudolph? And did the fact that she died in Rudolph have anything to do with her being in Rudolph?

  What did I know about her relationship with Rudolphites? Just about nothing.

  Jackie had known Raquel was in Rudolph. Had she taken steps to ensure Kyle didn’t go running back into the welcoming arms of his high school crush?

  No. I dismissed that. Jackie was many things, but she was not devious and she was no actor. If she had killed Raquel, or anyone else, she’d confess to it.

  As for Kyle, was it possible his high school crush wasn’t at all welcoming and he acted out of anger and disappointment?

  As Mattie and I approached our house, I was thinking that although I might want to do something about investigating Raquel’s murder, December in Rudolph didn’t give me a heck of a lot of spare time to do so. Thinking about it was likely all I’d be able to do. A figure stepped out of the shadows of the blue spruce in front of the Johannesen house and walked rapidly in the opposite direction, head down, shoulders hunched.

  Mattie paid him no mind, so I didn’t either, and we crossed the street toward the forest of holiday lights. I’d enjoyed myself tonight. Nothing like simply sitting back and relaxing with friends, but I feared I’d come to regret having that last glass of wine.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The following day the town of Rudolph hosted an unusual group of visitors. People from Muddle Harbor came to take a tour of Jingle Bell Lane. My dad invited them to breakfast at Victoria’s Bake Shoppe, and following that he planned to show them the highlights of Rudolph’s business district.

  “Strictly an unofficial visit, honeybunch,” he said to me over the phone as I was having a quick breakfast of coffee and muesli while regretting some of the choices I’d made last night. “Janice called me late yesterday afternoon to propose the idea. I told Sue-Anne about it last night. Sue-Anne is unsure as to how much we should encourage growth in a neighboring town. I reminded her that growth is good for everyone, but I fear an excess of imagination has never been one of Sue-Anne’s strong points. On the other hand, to be fair, she doesn’t want to be seen to be playing favorites in the Muddle Harbor mayoral race, so she told me to handle the visit as I think best.”