Small-Town Secrets

Bree remained on the sidewalk, watching Cole drive away.

“You’re seein’ the Baxters today, arn’cha?” Mattie Williams called out to her.

“Yes, ma’am.” Bree headed for her vehicle. She had an idea this case wasn’t going to get any easier.

Bree knew it for a fact the moment she rolled to a stop in front of the Baxter house, situated a few miles outside of town.

She guessed the two-story dwelling had been built in the 1940s, but the paint job was pure 1960s—hot-pink with orange and purple daisies decorating the shutters bracketing each window, and an equally bright green door. As she walked up the obviously handmade stone walkway, she surreptitiously gave a few sniffs. The only smoke she detected was the tangy aroma of mesquite, not the sweet odor of something illegal.

When she reached the door, she found a multicolored rope hanging there. She gave a yank and listened to melodic chimes echo from inside the house.

“May I help you?”

She turned toward the side of the house. The woman she faced wasn’t who she expected after listening to Mattie Williams ranting and raving about the people destroying her life. This woman dressed as if she still lived in the sixties in a pale yellow peasant-style blouse with a drawstring neckline and a brightly colored skirt that swirled around her bare ankles. Her brown hair was liberally streaked with gray and hung straight to her waist.

“Mrs. Baxter?”

Her smile was serene. “I prefer Teresa.”

Bree moved forward. “I’m Detective Bree Fitzpatrick.” She pulled out her shield and identification.

“Mattie sent you,” she said softly. “Please, come on back.” She stepped around to the rear of the house. “Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you.” Bree looked at the greenhouses set away from the house. “What do you grow?”

Teresa smiled as if she found her question amusing. “I supply orchids to local florists. Would you care to see them?”

She saw it as a chance to learn about the woman. “Yes, I would.”

The first thing Bree noticed as she stepped inside the glass enclosure was the heavy moisture in the air. At first she felt as if she was breathing water.

“Do you feel as if you’ve suddenly traveled to the tropics?” Teresa asked. “Orchids prefer this type of atmosphere.”

For the next hour, Bree was shown varieties of orchids. She expressed her astonishment at the colors arrayed before her.

“What is Mattie saying I’ve done this time?” Teresa asked, after she led Bree out of the greenhouse.

“She insists you carved designs in her lawn.” Bree told her the words adorning the yard.

Teresa chuckled. She gestured for Bree to follow her inside the house. The kitchen was as brightly colored as the exterior, but very much set in the present. The two women sat at the butcher block table set with red-and-black cloth place mats.

“Mattie has blamed us for everything from her water heater going out to her cat having a hairball to her husband’s erectile dysfunction,” she said serenely as she set a teakettle designed to look like a duck on the stove.

Bree swallowed the laugh that threatened to crawl up her throat. “Any reason why she would think that?” She pulled out her notebook.

“Her reason for me to be in jail is very easy. She believes I stole this property from her.”

Bree paused. “Any reason why she would think that?”

“Possibly because I married the man she thought she was in love with.” She poured tea into a cup and carried it over to the table. She sat across from Bree. She nodded as if Bree had said something. “It’s not a new story. Two sisters attracted to the same man. The man chooses one over the other. The spurned sister plots revenge.”

“How long has this been going on?” Bree asked.

She closed her eyes in thought. “It’s been a good thirty years.”

“Even though she has Harry,” Bree said.

“Harry is the man in question. We divorced fifteen years ago and he married Mattie. I received the house as a settlement.”

“But you’ve since remarried,” Bree said, hoping she could keep this straight.

Teresa nodded. “And divorced again. Harry and I had a son who is now nineteen. Adam helps me with the orchids.”

Now Bree felt lost. “If Mattie has the man she’s wanted for so long, why would she accuse you? And her husband’s son?”

She smiled. “That’s Mattie’s way. She thinks I still want Harry. But I don’t.”

Bree shook her head, amazed at the woman’s story. And believing it because it was too bizarre not to believe.

Teresa sipped her tea. “I don’t want her husband, Detective Fitzpatrick. But Mattie refuses to believe me. So she does whatever she can to try to get me into trouble. This is an ongoing thing,” she explained. “And I’m afraid since you’re new to the area, you had no idea what you were in for.” She got up from the table and headed for the stove. “I think you’ll take that tea now.”

“Let me get this straight. You married the man your sister was in love with?”

Teresa nodded.

“You had a son. Later, you divorced the man and your sister married him. You married someone else.”

“Correct.”

“But your sister thinks you want him back, so she’s making all these accusations.” Bree hoped she was filling in the blanks properly. “For what reason?”

“If I’m in prison, I can’t chase after Harry,” Teresa said evenly. “I have to say the vandalism of her front yard is a new twist. Before, it’s been trash strewn around on the lawn or flowers dug up. What you’ve described is much too imaginative for Mattie. I hope she hasn’t made an enemy.” She shook her head in sympathy. “She can sometimes come across as a bit abrasive.”

Bree didn’t doubt it.

An hour later, she left Teresa’s house feeling as if she had been Alice traveling through the Looking Glass. She didn’t doubt Teresa’s story. Bree was familiar with liars. In her line of work, it was a given. She also noticed that when someone lied they had a habit of coming up with a complicated story, as if it made them sound more credible. She usually had a pretty easy time finding the truth. However, she didn’t doubt Teresa’s convoluted tale.