by Anna Drake
I swallowed a sigh. Hubbard appeared not to know much about either death. And worse yet, I had the feeling his responses were honest. George Pratt was beginning to look better and better to me, but maybe only as a matter of convenience. He was handy. He was here. He was on Oberton’s short list.
FOURTEEN
When he rushed into the examination room the next day, the good Doctor Barstow looked terribly pressed. His hair was a mess, his collar askew. I almost regretted having lied my way into this appointment.
But I reminded myself that I was chasing leads on two murders. I couldn’t afford to be overly kind.
Besides, I’d risked life and limb on the twenty-minute drive to Weaverton. The roads had been brutal, slicked up by a three-inch overnight snowfall.
So how’s that sore throat now?” Barstow asked, stopping to pick up a tongue depressor on his way over to me.
“It’s much better. I really shouldn’t have bothered you with it.”
“Let me be the judge of that, please.” He snapped on a pair of latex gloves. “Open wide.”
He slipped a tongue depressor into my mouth. It seemed a fitting punishment for the fib that had earned me a place in his busy schedule.
“Well, you certainly appear to be much better.” He stripped off the gloves. After depositing them in the trash, he poked and prodded my glands. “Any fever?”
“None.”
“How’s your appetite?”
“Fine.”
He slid a stethoscope onto my back and ordered me to breathe.
Once we finished up that routine, I undertook my shaky plan. “How is my blood pressure? I’ve been so worried about it lately.” I sighed.
He checked my chart. His nurse had hooked me up to the blood pressure machine when I first came into the examination room. Now, he studied what I assumed was her report. “Your numbers look fine. Why did you think they might not be?”
“I don’t know. Life’s been a little unsettled recently.”
“Why?”
“It’s the murders, I guess.”
“You mustn’t worry. There’s nothing to say we have a serial killer in our midst.”
“It’s just that I found the first body.”
“You did?”
“Yes, I went with a friend to check on Carrie Flynt that day.”
“That could be unsettling,” he said. “How are you sleeping?”
“Poorly.” At least that wasn’t a lie.
He scowled. “I can give you a prescription to help with that.”
“Oh goodness, I’d hate to take any more pills.”
“A glass of wine before bed might help.”
“I’m not much of a drinker, but I might try that.”
“There are some over-the-counter products you could try, too. If none of them help, call me. Sleep is important for your health.”
“Her face haunts me. Did you know her?”
“He glanced away for a moment. “Yes, I knew Mrs. Flynt. She used to be a housekeeper for my aunt. And Hank, yes, I knew him when he was a boy. I’d seen him around, at least.”
“Then what do you think’s going on?”
“Mrs. Fox, for the sake of your blood pressure, it’s probably best you let the police figure that part out.”
“Do you think they will?”
“I certainly hope so,” he said patting my arm. “We can’t have someone running around out there frightening good women like yourself, now can we?”
“Or killing them, either,” I added.
“Indeed.”
“Aren’t you afraid?” I asked.
His eyes grew round. “Me?”
“Carrie cleaned for your aunt while she lived. That gives you a small connection to the murders.”
He laughed. “A very weak one, I’d say.”
He didn’t appear bothered by my questions. But I wasn’t sure what to make of his response. He’d kept his focus mostly on my health. I knew one thing though. After this performance of mine, if he ever caught wind of Andrew’s existence in my life, he and my daughter would have to fight each other for the honor of locking me up.
***
Traffic on the drive back to Hendricksville was light. Road conditions had improved enormously from my trip over. To either side of the car, farm fields drifted past. Tall trees dotted the fencerows, their winter branches standing out, dark and naked against the blue sky. And as I set my driving on autopilot, thoughts of the murders and what I’d learned caught and held my attention.
According to Andrew, Oberton liked George Pratt for the murder. I pictured him in my mind’s eye and wondered what Oberton had discovered to draw him to this rather unimpressive person. Then, I reminded myself that I knew almost nothing about him — apart from the fact that he’d done a good job repairing the closet wall for me.
Of course, neither Barstow or Hubbard were off the table. Either of them could have committed the crime. I sighed, feeling that I had failed in my attempt to pry information from the good doctor. I seriously doubted I could safely go at him again.
Then my thoughts drifted to Carrie’s niece. Jennifer was the administrator of her aunt’s will. If she’d also had power of attorney, she might have helped herself to the money. And she might have killed Carrie to keep the theft from being discovered. It didn’t sound as though the boys knew much of their aunt’s life. But I wondered how much Jennifer had known about Carrie’s affairs?
Reaching the outskirts of Hendricksville, I slowed and blended in with city traffic, which was heavy. People were heading to lunch. I decided to join them and pulled into the parking lot of a fast food joint. I loved hamburgers, and the thought of hot French fries could almost make me swoon.
By the time I got there, high school students had beaten me to the restaurant. I stood in a long line of restless young men and women. Their conversations were loud and filled with good cheer. But I knew, even at that age, life was challenging. Popularity clicks could inflict pain. Friends could turn out to be false. And a well placed word could cut like a knife.
Gradually, the mob of students moved through the lines, gabbing trays stuffed with food and carrying them off to tables.
Meanwhile, the welcome scent of burgers and fries drifted past me. As the line shortened, newcomers took their positions behind me. Even without a dining companion, I felt connected to and involved with this shifting world.
And to be honest, I reveled in the thought that neither Andrew nor Blackie could show up demanding that I referee their spats.
Reaching the counter, I ordered one of the large burgers. It came loaded with all sorts of goodies. None of which, of course, were without calories. But I showed true restraint by requesting only a small serving of fries. Then I loaded up on tubs of ketchup and headed out in search of a table.
“Hetty,” a voice called out.
I glanced over and saw Laura Day seated two tables to my right.
“Come join me,” she mouthed.
I nodded. “Thank you,” I said when I reached her. ‘This place is packed.”
“It always is during high-school lunch hour,” she said as I lowered my tray to her table.
I laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind for future visits.” I sat in the chair opposite hers. “I’m glad to have run into you. I’ve finished knitting a baby blanket and would like to drop it off sometime soon.”
“You can bring it to my house anytime,” she replied. “If I’m not home… which is rarely the case... you can leave it with my neighbor to the south.”
“Good to know, thank you.” I unwrapped my burger. Taking a bite, I closed my eyes in pleasure. As I chewed, I glanced over at Laura and realized she had to be close to the same age as Jennifer. “Laura, tell me, did you know Carrie Flynt’s niece when you were growing up?”
She placed her burger on its wrapper. “Jennifer? Sure. We were in school together. We went all the way from kindergarten through high school in the same class. Why?”
“I’ve just been wonderin
g what she was like. I met with her brothers, but no one has told me much about her.”
“Well, it’s been a while. We graduated a whole bunch of years ago.”
“I can’t help wondering what she’s like. I found Carrie’s body after the murder, you know. I guess I’ve become obsessed with the family.”
“Well, the first thing I’d say is that she’s done very well for herself.”
“How so?”
“Jennifer’s family didn’t have much when she was growing up. She and Chester did well in school, though. Hank, poor guy, was more of an athlete than a scholar.”
“She doesn’t look poor now.”
“No, that’s what I mean. First, she married well. Then, she went on to be highly successful in her own right.”
“A local boy?”
“Oh, no. I don’t think she’d have looked at anyone from Hendricksville. She wanted out of here. I couldn’t blame her, considering how her whole family had struggled. Jennifer took secretarial courses in high school and landed a job up by Chicago right out of school.”
“Well, if her situation at home was as bleak as you say, I could understand that.
“And then, after getting the job, she married her boss. He just happened to be a man moving up. About her own success, I don’t know much. But I do know that she put her brains to good use.”
I felt a slight touch of guilt. It certainly wasn’t a crime to marry a successful man. Nor did it make someone a killer. But I suspected Jennifer possessed a strong love of money. Could her passion have extended to the money that had come to her aunt? Had Carrie trusted her enough to have granted her control over her cash? But I stumbled at the thought of her killing her own brother. That seemed a stretch.
***
“You took your time getting back.” It was Andrew. He hovered just inside the front door, his arms folded tightly across his chest. On the other hand, Blackie was so glad to see me that he threw himself onto the floor and wriggled about in joy. I knelt down and scooped him up.
“How’s my little boy?”
“He’s your cat not your son,” Andrew snapped.
“I know, and he’s such a good one.” I rubbed my chin across the top of his head. Blackie purred loudly and settled in against my chest. “Let’s get you some tuna fish.” His body tensed at the word. Then, he hopped down from my arms and raced toward the kitchen.
“So what can I be doing to help you next?” Andrew asked.
“With what?”
“Certainly not with feeding the cat. The murders. What do you want me to do next?”
“I don’t know. I need to check up on Jennifer, but there’s no way I want you flitting off there.”
I stuffed my coat into the hall closet.
“But it’s so tiring. Hanging around the house all day with nothing to do.”
Ignoring him, I set off for the kitchen.
“Honestly, I want to help.” He trailed behind me.
I found Blackie already camped out beside his food bowl. I picked it up and carried it to the counter.
“So what were you doing that you’re home so late?” Andrew asked.
“If you must know, I stopped for lunch.”
I bit back a sigh. I’d just spent several weeks settling Blackie down from the move. Now, I had to deal with a jealous ghost? This was new territory, and I had no idea where to begin. Besides, Blackie was real. While Andrew... well, who knew what he was.
I pulled a can of tuna from the cupboard and the can opener from the drawer. Blackie snaked his way around my ankles, his motor roaring. Cats were so delightfully simple compared to ghosts. “Why are you here?” I asked mine. “Why have you suddenly turned up in my life? I mean, you’ve been dead for some thirty years.”
“I don’t know. I just found myself here one day. I assumed you’d summoned me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I do that?”
“What’s changed in your life, then?”
I placed Blackie’s bowl on the floor and proceeded to the table.
“I sold up my house and moved here. I suppose that was a bit unsettling to me. Are you saying I’ve dreamed you up?”
He shook his head. “How should I know?”
“You didn’t choose to show up here?”
“Not consciously, no.”
“Where were you before this?”
He shrugged. “Just a sort of misty place. No place, really. Then, suddenly I was here, and I was so thrilled to see you. It’s just that watching you move purposely through life…. Well, it makes me feel useless.”
“Which is why you want to help with sorting out the murder?”
“Yes, I think that’s it.”
I sighed. What was I to make of this guy… or to do with him?
FIFTEEN
“So,” I said to Andrew later that day. “I need a project for a handyman. Make yourself useful and give me some ideas.” We were in the living room. I was seated in my favorite chair with my knitting in hand.
“You’re asking my advice? That’s a first.”
“That’s not true. But I’d like it if you’d just come up with an idea for this problem, please.”
He studied me, a puzzled expression dominating his handsome face. “Well, the kitchen could use some work.”
“Which part… exactly?”
“The screen on the back door needs replacing. But that’s a job better put off until summer.”
“Agreed.” I pulled out additional yarn. I was starting another baby blanket. A pink one this time to balance out the blue one I’d deliver to Laura tomorrow. “Do you have any other ideas?”
His face brightened. “Why don’t you replace the hardware on your cupboard doors? The things you have now are kind of old. I think it might improve the looks of the place. Plus it’s the kind of job anyone could probably do. Do you have a specific handyman in mind?”
“Of course I do. You said Oberton seemed to be interested in George Pratt. So I thought we should have him over and take a look at him.”
“Are you giving up on our other suspects?”
“No, I’m expanding my list, that’s all.”
“And you want me to help.”
“I’m fine with that as long as you don’t scare him to death.”
Andrew smiled. “Are you beginning to trust me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Trust doesn’t figure into this. You’re a figment of my imagination.”
“That’s what you think.”
“That’s what I know,” I responded curtly.
Andrew shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
So that’s how George Pratt came to be standing in my living room the next day. I’d never met him face to face when I’d used him to fix Carrie’s closet wall. I’d called him. Hired him over the phone. And Rose had let him in to do the work.
Now, I motioned him to have a seat on my living room sofa. With a grizzled face and snow-white hair, I figured he had to be a little older than I was. He wore a plaid shirt and dungarees and seemed delighted to be here.
He looked like a candidate for the Friendliest Grandfather of the Year, and I wondered what it was about him that had put him on Oberton’s suspect list.
Andrew hovered beside me. His face was intense as he studied the man. “The dude doesn’t look very deadly,” he whispered.
I ignored Andrew and explained to Pray the work I wanted done.
“It won’t take me long to put new hardware on them cupboard doors. Anything else you want me to tackle… while I’m here?”
“What else can you do?”
Prat beamed at me. “I can handle just about any job you send my way.”
“I have a number of projects for spring and summer. The back door needs a screen replaced, and I’d like some the rooms painted.”
“I’m your man, then. I’m never happier than when I got a paintbrush in my hands. No need to wait though. I can paint now.”
“I’m sorry. It’s me. Paint fumes make me ill. So I
need to have the windows open when you’re painting.”
“Oh well, that’s not so bad. This winter weather is bound to give up soon. Anyway, I can do the cupboards tomorrow if you’d like.”
“Sounds perfect. Someone mentioned you did some work for Mrs. Whitcomb?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Boy, that’s been ages ago. But I sure did. Wonderful woman. She took me on full time. How about that?”
“It’s so sad what happened to her.”
“That it is. It made no sense to me. She was a spunky lady. I can’t see what could have dragged her down so low that she killed herself.”
I glanced up at Andrew. He hovered there, his eyebrows raised as he studied the man. I wasn’t sure what I was getting from this session with Prat, but at least Andrew appeared to be feeling useful.
***
“What are you doing?” Andrew asked.
We were in the kitchen, where I’d taken myself after Prat’s departure. I glanced up at Andrew.
“I’m calling Jennifer Tyler.”
“She’s Carrie’s niece, right?”
“That’s correct”
I suppressed a groan. I hated explaining myself to a ghost.
“Hello?”
I pulled my attention back to my phone call. “Jennifer?”
“Yes?”
“How are you. This is Hetty Fox.”
We exchanged a few pleasantries before I got down to the heart of my call. “Jennifer, I’ve called to ask you what you knew about Carrie’s inheritance of Mrs, Whitcomb’s estate?”
“That old crone left my aunt money?”
Well apparently that took care of that question.
“Yes. It was said to be a great deal of money, too.”
“Then where did it go?”
“That’s exactly my question.”
“You thought I knew about this?”
“I had wondered, that’s all.”
Her voice darkened. “You think I made off with it.”
“No. No. No. It’s nothing like that. I was just hoping you could help me make sense of it. I saw Carrie’s house. If she had money, she certainly didn’t show it off.”
