Northern Light by Deb Davies

Author:Deb Davies
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, michigan, murder, female protagonist, killer, small town, amateur detective
Publisher: BHC Press
Published: 2020-07-08T16:00:00+00:00

Jen walked through Claire’s house again, surveying the way her redecorating looked to people who stopped by. The gray paint in George’s bookroom had been covered with soft ivory. Two Oriental rugs, found under a bed upstairs, brought blues and golds and crimson into the room. Charles stacked them when he slept there at night and spread them out in the morning.

In the celery-green living room, the gold pine floors reflected light now that the rug had been removed, and the furniture gave off a faint scent of lemon polish. The enormous leaf-green couch that Zoe had sent faced the unadorned piano.

Zoe had sent a note with the couch, which had been delivered by Dannie’s brothers. “Whit apologizes. Please, Claire, don’t leave.” Whit had sent Elaine certificates for massages. On both notes, Zoe had jotted a postscript, “We will catch the son of a bitch. I’ve promised Whit.”

Over the piano hung a wordless apology Whit had also sent: a one-of-a-kind artwork made by an anonymous quilter, who had captured the range of hues the Great Lakes displayed during sunlight, moonlight, halcyon evenings, and storms.

“The quilt should be in a museum,” Jen had said. Charles went so far as to say that letting a bird destroy it would be sacrilege. Zoe, when Claire told her she couldn’t accept the gesture, had waved a hand dismissively as if swatting away a fly. Claire’s favorite recliner picked up a frothed-cream lake color in the quilt, and the rocking chairs and old quilts gave the room warmth.

Laurel’s pride in Jennifer reached new levels. How had she doubted her own smart kid? Did David have any idea how talented Jen was, not just seeing ways to make the house more authentically Claire’s, but motivating so many people to help?

Outside, the chairs Tansy had sent helped make the transition between home and wilderness. Between the chairs lay the kit for a fire pit, with a note from the woman who had sold Tansy the chairs.

“We never used the fire pit,” shaky writing confided. “Turned out Best to Be wasn’t insured for them. My children tell me they’re fun for younger people. My Robert and I did s’mores over a gas stove burner. They turned out fine.”

Barbara and Bill Marsh had bought pizza at All Things. They laid the offering out on the kitchen table on an old checked tablecloth. The cheese was thick and bubbly, the ham was lean prosciutto, the tomatoes were homegrown, and the scent of garlic warmed the room. The white china bowl held kidney bean salad full of crunchy celery, sweet onion, and red and green pepper, with fresh-grated horseradish in a glass dish on the side. Pears filled an old wooden bowl sitting next to a pewter pitcher brimming with iced tea.

“We have to get back to the farm,” Barbara said. “If we do any redecorating, house or barn, I’ll get in touch with you.”

“I,” Zoe said, snagging a piece of pizza, “will write a fantastic letter of recommendation for you.”

“Thanks, Zoe,” Jen said.

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