Her face went blank. “Who says I lied?”
“You just did. You said the police linked that charm to you.”
“No, I said they were trying to. If that’s their only proof, I have no worries.”
I held my hands out. “Then why are you in here threatening me?”
She blinked. “I’m not threatening you. I’m trying to help you. Rafe made some enemies along the way. He ran his coven like a dictatorship. I’m not the only person he exiled. Ember and Bronwyn moved all the way to Traverse City to get away from him. They look all sweet and earth-mother-y, but looks can be deceiving.”
Diana had said they were above all the drama in Grand Rapids. So, why were they here today with Morgan? And why was she throwing them under the bus?
Morgan continued, “And he was always fighting with that church group. They’ve been at each other for years.”
“The gang that showed up at his memorial?”
Morgan nodded. “He and Bea Paxton go way back, and none of it is friendly.”
The door swung open at that moment and Morgan turned on her heel and brushed past the woman, who flattened herself against the wall and stared as Morgan stalked back out to the restaurant.
I nodded at the woman, who scurried into a stall. Morgan had given me a few things to think about. It was true that I had been looking at the case mostly in view of how to prove Dylan’s innocence. We’d been focused on finding other people who could have had opportunity, but I didn’t know enough about Rafe to know who he might have ticked off.
I went back out to the dining area wondering whether it would be best to let the police do their job. But pulling my family off the scent might prove to be more than I could handle.
36
Sunday morning, after we walked the dogs, I left Seth with his computer and told him I had some errands.
Mostly, I needed to think. I had too many mysteries, and not enough insight into any of them. Now that Dylan was out of jail, I felt less urgent about figuring out who killed Rafe. Vi’s concerns about a roving lunatic aside, I felt like I needed to deal with some mysteries closer to home. Neila’s confessions yesterday had been eye-opening but none of it explained why my mother was so against my seeing her that Vi had to go behind her back to get me up there. I understood the recluse excuse, but I didn’t understand why she was venturing into town after so many years of self-imposed exile. She must have been trying to get close to Rafe’s memorial the night that Mac had driven her home. But why was she causing trouble with Howard and Millie?
I turned my Jeep up the now familiar gravel driveway toward her house. I had grown accustomed to the desolate look of the house, but this time it seemed shut down. I realized the difference was that on my first couple of visits I had smelled wood smoke from her chimney. It was absent this time.
My knock seemed loud in the small clearing and I listened carefully for sounds from within. It was silent. I knocked again and started to get worried. She was over ninety, after all. I had stepped off the porch with a plan to go to the back door when I heard the front door swing open.
“Hello, dear. I’m moving slowly today.” She attempted a tired smile that didn’t make it to her eyes.
“Hi, Ms. Whittle. I . . . wanted to check on you after our talk yesterday.”
She nodded and swung the door open.
Her house seemed colder today, as if the life had been leached out of it. She led me back down the hall to the kitchen, as usual. There was no fire today, as I had surmised while still outside.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked.
I shook my head no, and she settled slowly into her chair.
“Ms. Whittle, I spoke with Millie and Howard last week.”
She perked up a bit at this news. “Oh my. Millie doesn’t like me very much.”
“She thinks you’re trying to steal Howard.”
The deep laugh that erupted seemed out of place coming from such a tiny person. I smiled along with her.
“She does get ideas,” Neila said.
“You’re not trying to steal Howard?”
She shook her head. “No, I just wanted to talk to him. We were . . . involved . . . a lifetime ago, but that’s been over for longer than you’ve been alive.”
“That’s about what Howard said,” I agreed. “Can you tell me why, after all this time, you wanted to talk to him?”
She sighed and gestured for me to sit. “He was Rafe’s father. I thought he should know that I had found our son. And that he had died.”
“I’m sorry. Did you get a chance to tell him before Millie came in?”
She shook her head. “No, and then I had second thoughts. Maybe it would be kinder to let him think . . . whatever it is he thinks. Sometimes the truth isn’t as kind as hope.”