“Would you say that you and Tom were friends?”
“Why, yes. I’d say we were friends.” She was puzzled by the question.
“Were you more than friends?”
As she caught his meaning, she became indignant and felt her temper flare. “I am a very happily married woman, Detective, and no, I would not say we were anything more than friends. Is that all you have to ask me?” Backing into the hall, she held onto the edge of the door and waited for him to turn and leave. Her heart was pounding so hard, she thought it would burst through her rib cage.
Charlie looked down at his shoes, but he didn’t move off the granite stoop. After a brief pause, he lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Are you Davy?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Does young Danny Alcott call you Davy?” Now the detective sounded impatient, as if it were a perfectly reasonable question.
Pulling her shoulders back and lifting her chin slightly, Edna said with all the dignity she could muster, “He calls me Mif Davy.”
Nine
Walking to the end of the brick path, Edna watched as Detective Charlie Rogers’ dark blue Ford maneuvered around the broken shell driveway and disappeared onto the road. Why had he asked if Danny called her Davy?
Acid burned her stomach as she thought back over what had just transpired, trying to make sense of it, particularly the police asking for samples of her herbal teas. What had they implied? Do they suspect me of causing Tom’s death? And this queasy sensation in my stomach … could there really be something toxic in my tea?
“Did they tell you?”
Edna jumped, startled by Mary’s sudden appearance at her side. Still edgy and beginning to worry about the increasingly sick feeling in her stomach, she turned, ready to scold her neighbor until she saw Mary’s puffy eyes. Concern replaced her anger. “What’s the matter?”
“Didn’t they tell you about Tom?” Mary’s voice quavered.
Edna should have guessed that Mary would have heard the news of Tom’s death by now, since she seemed to have friends on both the police force and at the hospital. “Yes, they told me. They’re interviewing everyone who was with him yesterday. How did you find out?”
“I called a friend at the hospital to see how he was doing.” Mary took a great gulp of air. Tears slid onto her cheeks as she fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a man’s white handkerchief. She blew her nose and wiped at her eyes, but the torrent didn’t stop.
“You really loved him, didn’t you?” The words came out involuntarily as the realization struck Edna. She remembered Tom saying that they had attended high school together, and she wondered if that’s when Mary had fallen in love with the gentle man.
Swiping at her tears, Mary seemed embarrassed and turned to go, but Edna took hold of her arm and pulled her into a hug. The two women clung to each other, their grief shared. Edna’s throat ached as Mary, sobbing loudly, cried on her shoulder.
Finally, Mary stiffened and pulled away. Between hiccups and blowing her nose, she asked, “Did they tell you how he died?”
“No, they didn’t. There has to be an autopsy.” Edna turned, unable to meet her neighbor’s eyes. How will she feel toward me if Tom’s death turns out to be my fault? Edna wondered with a sense of dread.
“I saw Peggy taking your trash bags. Why was she doing that?”
Edna hesitated, knowing Mary would learn soon enough. Not able to find the right words, she ended up muttering a noncommittal, “They’re investigating everything right now.” As she frantically searched her mind for something to distract them both, she said, “I saw a For Sale sign in the Sharps’ yard this morning. What’s going on?”
Mary shrugged, still wiping her eyes and nose. “I went over to talk to Otto. He said Aleda doesn’t want to live here anymore. Regardless of what happens to Codfish, she says she can’t face her friends after what’s happened. Says she knows everyone will be gossiping behind her back and she couldn’t stand to see the accusation in their eyes. Besides, even if the Sharps wanted to stay, there are the lawyer’s bills.”
Realizing this wasn’t such a good topic either, Edna stopped Mary before she spread any more doom and gloom. “Would you like some tea? I could sure use a cup.”
Seating Mary at the kitchen table, Edna put the kettle on to boil. She would have preferred not to have company, since there was so much she needed to get straightened out in her mind, but she was concerned for her neighbor. Tea had really been an excuse so Mary wouldn’t be alone right now.
As she reached for the canister containing her mint blend, Edna hesitated. This wasn’t what she’d used to make Tom’s iced tea, but she paused just the same. Thinking of the two canning jars, she stopped, wondering. Could mixing the contents have caused some sort of toxic reaction? She shook herself, angry with the police for making her feel paranoid. Of course those herbs aren’t toxic. Nothing in her tea would have caused someone’s death.
I couldn’t have done it, she thought, reaching above her head for a box of tea bags. I may not know everything about plants, but I am careful when it comes to my cooking. I know I’ve been precise with Hazel’s recipes. I never would have used something I wasn’t absolutely certain of. I am not responsible for Tom’s death. She looked over her shoulder surreptitiously, then forced herself to concentrate on what she was doing.
If Mary noticed Edna’s agitation, she didn’t mention it. Busy playing with the cat, she reached down and took Benjamin into her lap. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about getting a pet and all.” She rubbed her cheek against the top of Benjamin’s head. “Benjy is great company, isn’t he?”
“Benjamin,” Edna corrected automatically, as she reached for the whistling kettle. “Yes, he’s a sweetheart. If you’d like, you can give him some special snacks from the cupboard in the mudroom. They’re on your right, just inside the door on a shelf about waist high.”
Mary went for the cat treats and returned as Edna was setting the teapot on a hot plate.
“When did you do this?” she said, holding up the sketch of Tom.
Edna had forgotten she’d left the drawing in the mudroom when the detectives had helped her bring the easel in out of the rain.
“Today. Do you like it?”
“It’s good.” Mary sighed as she sat down again and wiped a fresh tear off her cheek. She laid the portrait on the table beside her, looking at it as she reached for her cup. “I wish I could draw. I’d like to be able to capture someone’s face like this.”
“It’s not hard,” Edna said. “You could take a class.”
Mary shook her head. “I couldn’t. Even in school, I could never draw people.”
“Well …” Edna paused to think how she might encourage Mary. “I’d be glad to show you a few pointers sometime. You could start by studying faces. Watch the people around you, the shape of their eyes and nose. Look particularly at ears. Ears are important.”
Mary seemed interested. “Do you really think I could do it?” She looked down again at the portrait.
“I think you can do whatever you put your mind to.” Edna poured more tea into her cup. “Did you ever take an art class in school?”
Over their drinks, Edna asked Mary about her school days. Mary answered halfheartedly, speaking quietly while she stroked Benjamin’s back and scratched his ears as he lay curled up and purring in her lap. Eventually, she gave a heavy sigh and said, “Thanks. I’m feeling better now. I should go home.”
Once she was alone, Edna paced around the kitchen, considering her situation. Obviously, the police think Tom was poisoned, she thought. I’m not stupid. They’re concentrating on what he had to eat and drink yesterday, and because I experiment with herbs, they think I might have given him something toxic. Her breath caught in her throat. If the police suspect me, then others will too. She thought of the For Sale sign in the yard across the street and felt a burning sensation grow in her chest.
Remembering Detective Rogers’ insinuation tha
t she and Tom were more than friends made her face flush. Where would he have gotten such an idea? The notion that anyone would believe she could be unfaithful to Albert made her angry. That they would believe she could poison someone made her afraid.
Edna stopped pacing as her imagination took over, and she pictured herself standing in a courtroom, listening to the judge pronounce her guilty of murder. Her mind transported her into a prison cell where she heard the clang of metal on metal, exactly like on television, as the barred door slammed in her face.
Perspiration broke out on her forehead, and her hands felt clammy. “Get hold of yourself,” she muttered, realizing she must stop these paralyzing thoughts. Why had Detective Rogers asked if Danny called her Davy? The thought of Tom’s grandson sent a wave of sadness through her and made her start to wonder about the boy.
“I bet the police didn’t understand what Danny was saying.” The sound of her own voice startled her, and she looked around guiltily. Benjamin lifted his head and looked at her sleepily from the seat Mary had recently vacated. She reached over and ruffled his ears. “What difference does it make if I talk to myself or to you, Benjamin? I know they think I killed Tom.”
Whether she felt comfort from the warm softness of her cat or from the sound of her own voice or both, Edna continued to speak aloud as she sat down at the table. “Oh, how I wish Albert were here,” she said to the room. “He’d know what to do. He always knows what to do.”
Benjamin rose and arched his back, yawning widely as he stretched. Then he deftly jumped into her lap, turned around twice, and plopped down.
Edna’s self-pity grew. “Remember how angry he was when I got that dent in my new car?” She smiled through tears that were beginning to blur her sight. “Well, Benjamin, this is much worse than a fender-bender. Much worse.” She felt feverish, seeing in her mind’s eye the realtor’s sign in the yard across the street. “We looked so hard for the best place to live. I can’t tell him, Benjamin. I just can’t.”
She sat for what seemed a long time. First, she imagined a conversation with Albert in which she would explain why they had to move away from southern Rhode Island. Halfway through her mental talk, she balked. How could she possibly explain to him what she didn’t understand herself?
I must find out what happened after Tom and Danny left here yesterday, she thought. But how? When the answer came, she laughed aloud at its simplicity. Danny. Of course. I’ll find out from Danny where he and his grandfather went.
Having raised four children and now having six grandchildren, she was used to young ones confiding in her. She was a good listener and paid attention to what they said. She knew she would be able to understand Danny, even if he couldn’t speak clearly.
Glancing at the clock, she saw it was almost five. She would take a casserole over to Nancy and pay her respects. There would probably be family and friends around, but that might make it easier for her to get Danny alone for a few minutes.
In the freezer, she found a macaroni and cheese casserole. The recipe was a favorite of her family’s, so chances were good that Danny and Nancy would like it, too. She changed quickly into a shirtwaist dress with a deep purple and lilac print. Grabbing a large straw hat and her woven tote bag, she picked up the casserole and her car keys and set off for Tom’s house.
When she arrived at the two-story, white clapboard, she found the driveway filled with cars, two across and four deep. Several other vehicles had been left along the macadam road, half in the grass, so Edna followed suit, parking half a block away, and walked back to the house.
As she neared the steps leading to a wide, wooden porch that stretched across the front of the house, Edna saw Danny come shuffling around the corner, his head down, chin resting on his small chest. Her heart leaped. This was working out better than she’d hoped. She put her bag and the casserole on one of the broad steps and sat down. “Hi, Danny,” she said, trying to sound more cheerful than she felt.
He looked at her shyly, at first, stopping about five feet away. Then, without warning, he threw himself into her lap, grabbing her around the waist and hanging on tightly. He hadn’t made a sound.
Edna sat quietly, rubbing his back and listening to the hum of voices from inside the house. It was soothing at first, but after several minutes, she began to feel the hardness of the step beneath her.
“Danny,” she said quietly, taking hold of his small shoulders. She didn’t see his hearing aid and remembered Tom saying he had begun to hide it in his pocket. She took him more firmly by his shoulders, feeling the tiny bones beneath his shirt. Her heart ached for him. With her fingers beneath his chin, she raised his head until he was looking at her face. Then, she cupped her ear with one hand and pointed to his with the other. “Where’s your hearing aid?”
He stood up, slowly pulled the small device out of his pocket and adjusted it in his ear, all the while looking at her.
“Danny.” Edna folded her hands in her lap and leaned toward him. “Where did you go yesterday?”
He looked at her blankly.
“Where did you go with Gampa?” She used the name she’d heard him call Tom. “McDonald’s? Did you get something to eat?”
His eyes grew wide. He ran past her up three steps before turning around and coming back to grab at her arm. He waved his other hand toward the house. “Davy,” he said.
Excited by the boy’s response—she was almost certain he wanted to show her something or someone inside—Edna stood up and took his hand. He tugged at her, seeming impatient for her to follow him. “Davy.” He shouted the name this time. Then again, “Davy!” He began to cry as he tried to pull her up the stairs.
Edna slipped her free arm through the handles of her tote bag and was stooping to pick up the casserole dish when the front door opened, and Nancy appeared on the porch. Danny was facing the door, halfway up the wide, wooden steps, pulling Edna’s hand.
“What are you doing?” Nancy shouted as she bounded down the top four steps and grabbed Danny’s shoulders. She slapped at Edna’s hand. “Let him go!”
A man and woman, both about Tom’s age, came out of the house just then. “What’s the matter, Nan?” the woman asked.
“This is Davy. He was calling her Davy. She’s the one who made Daddy sick. Now she’s trying to take my baby!” Nancy yelled, not taking her eyes off Edna. “Get out of here!” She hugged Danny to her as she shouted at Edna. “Leave him alone!”
“You don’t understand …” Edna stammered, shocked at Nancy’s behavior.
The man, medium height with a stocky build and receding hairline, came down the steps. As he passed Nancy, she shouted, “Call the police.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he said, patting her shoulder as he continued down the stairs. He took Edna’s arm and turned her toward the street. “I think it would be best if you leave.”
“But …”
“You can see you’re upsetting her. It will be worse if the police have to come. Please leave.” His tone turned harsh and his eyes narrowed.
Edna jerked her arm from his grasp. Clutching her tote bag, she raced toward her car. She was mortified.
Ten
For the second night in a row, Edna slept badly. Tossing and turning, she couldn’t shake the feelings of frustration and humiliation. Danny had wanted to show her something, she knew it; but when she pictured the scene as objectively as she could, she could see why his mother might have believed that Edna was trying to pull Danny down the stairs. How could she convince anyone that she wasn’t Davy if she couldn’t get near Tom’s grandson?
By morning, her face still felt flushed, and her body burned hot and cold at the same time. She wanted to pull the covers over her head and stay there until Albert came home, but she couldn’t.
Saturday. Her art class would arrive after lunch to spend the afternoon sketching in her yard. She lowered the covers and turned to the window. Thick, black clouds covered the sky. Oh, no. “Not today,” she moaned aloud.
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br /> Reaching over to the bedside table, she turned on the radio to hear the weather forecast. As she listened to her favorite classical station, she slipped into a drowsy half sleep and missed most of the news but came fully awake in time to hear the bleak weather report. Rain and drizzle most of the day. Not expected to clear before evening.
She groaned and threw back the covers. The furniture will have to be moved to fit nine easels into the living room, ten if Liz is going to paint, she thought. I’ll need some things for the class to work with—a basket of flowers or fruit and maybe one of my Phoenix glass vases. I’ll bring in a pot of aloe to sketch for my garden club presentation. That final thought cheered her only slightly.
As she showered and dressed, Edna’s mind reeled with all she had yet to do that morning. She would have to get fresh fruit from the grocery store and and scour her gardens for blooms and grasses to fill at least one large urn. The class should have a variety of still lifes from which to choose, and she'd better hurry before the rain started.
She decided to go to the market first, hopefully arriving early enough to avoid meeting someone she knew. If she had ever thought of wearing a paper bag over her head, today was the day. Her cheeks warmed again at the thought of her mortification last evening.
By the time she returned from the store, having run into very few people and nobody she knew, a light drizzle was falling. She donned her mackintosh and a rain bonnet, pulled her translucent rubbers over her shoes, and went out to search the yard for anything she might use for a fall floral arrangement. As she moved about in the wet grass, she wondered whether she should simply call Liz and cancel the class.
Murder by Yew (Edna Davies Mysteries) Page 8
