Bran New Death(86)

I told her about Miss Openshaw’s anger toward the woman, expressed in the Vale Variety and Lunch.

“I don’t know,” Hannah said with a frown.

“Has Dinah ever done anything to her? Other than the catnip-mice incident at last year’s Autumn Vale Harvest Fair, I mean?”

“I don’t know Mrs. Hooper very well. She comes to Golden Acres sometimes. She used to have her son take people for walks . . . you know, push their wheelchair down the block and back.” Hannah chuckled. “That was no fun for Dinty, nor the resident!”

“Why not?”

“You had to know Dinty Hooper. He was a grumpy guy. When he finally took off, everyone in Autumn Vale heaved a sigh of relief.”

“You must talk to Miss Openshaw quite a lot, given all the books she borrows. What do you know about her?”

“Let’s see, she lives alone since her brother died, except for her cats. She works at the bank, pretty much the only teller other than a part-time girl who works on Fridays.”

“Does she drive?” I asked, remembering her on her bike up near Wynter Castle.

“She rides a bike everywhere.”

“But you don’t know for sure that she doesn’t know how to drive.”

“I guess not.”

I watched a pair of elderly women stroll arm in arm down the sidewalk, one with a cane. My mind wandered, and I wondered what my mother and grandmother would have been like had they lived. Would my grandma be one of these octo-or nonagenarians, living for muffins and tea, and Random Quote Day? I’d love to be able to visit my grandma, do crafts and drink tea with her, take her for car rides.

My mother would be in her sixties, and probably still protesting. What would she think of my inheriting Wynter Castle and trying to maximize some profit from it? I wish she were around to tell me what it was she had against Melvyn Wynter. Once things settled down—and by “things” I meant two murder investigations on my property—I wanted to talk to Doc English again about my uncle, learn more about him.

A van pulled up to the curb and a middle-aged woman hopped out of the passenger side and waved.

“I have to go,” Hannah said. “That’s my mom.”

I probably had more to ask her, but my mind was fuzzy and I was confused. “Bye, Hannah. I’ll talk to you again soon!”

“Call me if you have any more questions!” She motored down the sidewalk and around to a lift in the back, waving as she centered herself on the lift and trundled into the back of the van.

As Hannah and her parents headed off, Gogi Grace came down the sidewalk and sat down beside me. She looked calm and serene, but I wasn’t sure what to say.

“Are you okay?” I asked, watching her face.

She nodded. “The doctor is coming to pronounce death. I’m keeping an eye out for him.”

“So . . . the patient died?”

“It was just a matter of time. She slipped away peacefully ten minutes ago.” One tear escaped and raced down her cheek, marking a pale trail in her matte foundation.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “I’m all right. Let’s talk about something else, shall we?”

We spoke of my and Lizzie’s discovery of the body in the woods, and she frowned over that. Autumn Vale had occasional missing persons, she said, and those who just left town for greener pastures. That was a fairly common occurrence. But she agreed with me that it was more likely that the dead fellow was a hiker who had either run afoul of a friend he was with, or died of natural causes. The sheriff had told me his head was bashed in, though, so definitely murder. I also told her about meeting Helen Johnson in the bakeshop, along with Isadore.

“They’re both in my book club,” Gogi said. “Helen goes for Christian and Amish romance novels.”

“Amish romance novels?” I said, eyebrows high.

“Oh, yes, they’re very popular with the ladies of the Methodist church. Isadore, on the other hand, reads a bit of everything, kind of a literary omnivore.”

“I noticed. What is that woman’s deal?” I asked. “She always seems so . . . tense.” I explained about my visit to the bank.

“She has a lot of responsibility on her plate. I think she takes her job very seriously.”

“She pretty much said that Simon Grover wouldn’t know how to open the bank without her there.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“I want to find out about my uncle’s dealings with the Autumn Vale Community Bank . . . you know, whether there were any outstanding loans, or anything like that. Isadore is either stonewalling me, doesn’t like me, or . . . I don’t know.”