“Of course not. Roselyn wouldn’t’ve done a thing like that.” Mary shook her and turned to Edna. “We could go ask her what she saw, though. She’s at the clinic every morning to feed the animals in the back kennel. We can go see her first, then go to the grocery store before half the town is up. That Humvee is great in the snow. If it gets much deeper, you won’t be able to budge that Buick of yours.”
“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Won’t the clinic be closed?” Edna asked. She’d be glad for the lift to Stop and Shop, but wasn’t sure about wasting precious time to satisfy Mary’s obsession over criminal matters.
Mary set her empty goblet on the coffee table. “Doesn’t matter if they’re closed or not. She still has to go in to tend to the animals. Whadda ya say? I’ll pick you up at eight.” She grinned. “You’ll like riding in the Humvee. I’m thinking of getting one.”
“You two can get up early, but I’m sleeping in.” Bethany pushed herself to her feet. “After you finish talking to Roselyn and buying groceries, will you go to the police station with me?” she asked Mary.
“What about your party? It’s tomorrow night, and you’re expecting quite a crowd,” Edna said, thinking of her own last-minute chores.
Mary shrugged and stood up. “If this storm continues, half the people won’t show up for my party. Besides, we already did the baking. Priscilla and Faye are catering the rest of the food. We’ll have time to go ask Roselyn a few questions in the morning. It won’t take long.” She glanced up at the grandfather clock in a corner of the room. “Right now, Hank and Spot are probably worried about me. Come on, Bethany. My friend’s house has an extra room you can use. I’ll drive you to your brother’s car, and you can follow me. That way, I’ll know where you are, and we can both go talk to Charlie tomorrow.”
Edna saw them out, noticing with alarm the several new inches of snow in her driveway as Mary drove off in the Humvee. Returning to the living room, she banked the fire and took the dishes into the kitchen. She stacked them in the sink to wash in the morning. Tiredly, she switched off the downstairs lights and headed for the stairs. As she passed her small office, she glanced in at the boxes of cards still yet to be written and addressed. The cards and the last-minute grocery shopping were all that were left on her to-do list. As if she could make this particular chore go away, she shut the door to her office and wearily climbed the stairs to bed.
Chapter 22
As promised, Mary pulled up to the house at eight the following morning. Another six inches of snow had accumulated during the night, but now the sky was cloudless. Dawn had broken and the world looked like a winter wonderland. Climbing up into the passenger’s seat of the Humvee, Edna asked Mary, “Do you know if the airports are open?”
Mary shrugged as she put the car in gear and drove slowly around the circle to the road. “Don’t know.” She slid her eyes to look briefly at Edna. “Haven’t you heard from Starling or Grant? Won’t they call to let you know when they’re flying in?”
Edna shook her head, feeling a heavy sadness in her chest. “I’ve been trying to reach them, but they don’t answer their phones. I hope that means they’re in the air, heading this way, and not sitting on a runway somewhere.”
“They’ll be okay. Don’t worry. They’ll get here,” Mary said, sounding more confident than Edna felt.
Perry’s Animal Clinic looked deserted when they pulled into the parking lot, but Mary seemed to know where she was going. Following fresh car tracks, she drove around to a smaller lot in the rear. A series of dog runs made of chain link fencing occupied most of the area behind the building’s extension. The old Volvo stood in front of a back door leading to the kennels.
Mary parked on the far side of the wagon and, as Edna got out of the Humvee, she noticed the back of the Perrys’ car was filled with boxes and suitcases. They must be taking quite a long holiday vacation, she thought as she trudged after Mary.
Inside, the boarding room smelled faintly of disinfectant and slightly stronger of wet fur. Roselyn was crouched before a waist-high counter at the far end of the room, apparently having just finished securing a bandage to the foreleg of a German Shepherd. Extra strips of surgical tape dripped from the counter’s edge.
Edna and Mary stood silently and watched as the veterinarian’s wife stood, tossed a roll of tape and scissors onto the shelf, and drew forward two stainless steel dog dishes. Either she hadn’t heard them enter or she was ignoring them while she scooped dry food from a large bag into the bowls. The Shepherd sat patiently, watching the process. In one of the six cages lining the far wall, a Boxer stood at attention, wagging her stub of a tail. Both dogs were so completely absorbed in waiting for Roselyn to give them their breakfasts, they gave only a perfunctory glance toward the newcomers.
Edna was reminded of her children when they were small and used to watch very carefully while she prepared plates of food. Once she tired of their arguing over who had received a grain more than another, she turned the task over to them. Whoever divvied up the portions received the last dish after everyone else had chosen.
With her eye on the canine and his on the dishes of kibbles, Roselyn walked over to an open pen and placed one of the bowls inside. When the Shepherd began to eat, she closed the door and turned to deliver the second dish to the Boxer.
As Edna waited for Roselyn to acknowledge them, she found herself looking into the yellow eyes of a short-haired tabby close to her shoulder. Stretched along the back wall were a series of two-story cat apartments. Each held a litter box on the bottom floor and a ramp to the upper story. The top level contained a bed and a shelf where the cats could sit and look out onto the back parking lot and dog runs. In warmer weather, the trees beyond the lot would attract a variety of birds for the cats’ entertainment, as well, Edna noticed. She saw the three felines from Laurel’s shelter huddled together, two pens down from the short-hair next to her.
The center aisle was free of obstruction and wide enough for two adults to walk side-by-side. Cupboards above the counter made up the narrow, far wall. More cupboards had been built in below the workspace at both ends, and a backless barstool occupied the kneehole in the middle.
Completing her tasks, Roselyn finally looked toward her visitors with a questioning frown.
“Hi, Roz,” Mary called out as she walked down the length of the room.
“What are you doing here?” Roselyn asked in her quiet voice, without returning a greeting. “The clinic is closed.” She leaned back against the counter and folded her arms across her chest.
“That’s okay.” Mary moved to stand next to her. “We came to see you.”
Edna stopped a few feet short of the other women. Letting Mary do the talking, she observed Roselyn Perry and noticed something she’d never been close enough to see before. A small vertical scar was faintly visible on her upper lip. Edna wondered how old Roselyn had been when surgery had been performed, and if a cleft lip were at least part of the reason for the woman’s shyness. She also noticed that Roselyn’s eyes were red-rimmed and dark shadows beneath spoke of sleeplessness.
“Me? Why do you want to see me?” Her reply was quiet and unconvincing, as if she knew the answer. She studied Mary with suspicion, but didn’t hold the gaze. Instead, she turned away to watch the Shepherd as he finished his breakfast and searched the floor for any bits that might have escaped his bowl.
“Laurel Taylor,” was Mary’s reply. Her air was casual, but Edna knew her neighbor would be aware of any twitch in Roselyn’s face.
The younger woman’s scowl deepened. “What about her?”
“Someone saw your car in her driveway the afternoon she died.”
Mary shrugged as if it were no big deal, but Roselyn remained wary as she pushed herself up and half-turned to straighten items on the counter. She picked up the roll of white tape and the scissors and began to cut long strips, adding them to the row already hanging from the edge of the counter. Strange, thought Edna, but perhaps it was something to concentrate on i
nstead of her visitors’ faces. Was it shyness or guilt that made her act so guarded?
“I was here that afternoon.” Roselyn’s voice was so soft, Edna had to strain to understand her words.
“Was it Laurel’s mistletoe in your car?” Edna asked, hoping to shake the woman out of her quiet passiveness.
Roselyn’s eyes shifted quickly to Edna’s face and then to Mary’s before returning to the scissors in her hand. “I don’t like your questions. Please leave. I have work to do.”
At that moment, Edna sensed someone behind her and spun around as Jake strode up.
“What’s going on? What are you ladies doing back here?” His tone held only curiosity.
Hearing a yelp of protest, Edna swung back again, stunned by what she saw. Roselyn had hold of Mary’s arms just above the elbows. Mary’s hands were behind her back and a length of tape bound her wrists together. Before Edna fully understood what was happening, she felt Jake’s strong hands clasp her upper arms.
“What are you doing? Let me go,” she cried, suddenly afraid.
As she spoke, Jake’s voice rose above hers. “You jumped the gun a bit, Roz. What are you thinking?”
“They would have stopped us.” Previously so meek, Roselyn now seemed to be the one in control.
“I could have gotten rid of them without this unnecessary complication.” Jake spoke reasonably, but sighed with resignation. “Now, we have no choice.”
“They would have called the police.” Roselyn seemed to withdraw again when she had her husband’s cooperation. She had made the first move, but he was taking charge.
Edna had stopped struggling against Jake’s grip while husband and wife talked. She saw Mary had done the same, as if the Perrys had made some ridiculous mistake and would let their captives go. The situation changed at Jake’s next words and both hostages began to twist and wriggle to free themselves.
“Strap her wrists,” he said, nodding toward Mary.
At once, Roselyn smashed her knee into the back of Mary’s knee, causing the leg to buckle, and Mary was instantly on the floor.
Both prisoners protested loudly and thrashed against their assailants as their wrists and ankles were bound. Edna was only vaguely aware that the dogs were restless and whining while the cats watched in silence.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, feeling her face flush with anger. She was sitting on the floor, knees raised while Jake strapped her calf-high boots together just above the ankles. Roselyn, apparently having secured Mary to her satisfaction, was pulling tape off the counter to wrap Edna’s wrists more securely than the single strip Jake had used.
“You don’t have to tie us up,” Mary said drolly as she writhed on the floor beside Edna. “We’ll leave quietly, if that’s what you want.”
Edna wondered how Roselyn could have gotten control of the larger Mary, but soon realized that the veterinarian’s wife was used to grappling with large animals and was probably every bit as strong as Mary, besides being twenty years younger.
The tighter her bonds got, the more Edna’s temper rose. She didn’t share Mary’s ill-timed humor. Staring fixedly at the top of Jake’s head as he bent to his task, she said, “Obviously, one or both of you had something to do with Laurel Taylor’s death.” Without waiting for him to confirm or deny the accusation, she went on. “You’ll never get away with it, and you’re making things worse by tying us up.”
Jake finally looked up at her as he handed the roll of tape and scissors to his wife. He seemed sad and resigned. “I’m really sorry,” he said. “I didn’t plan things to happen this way. I didn’t plan anything to happen the way it has.” He ran a hand over his chin, glancing up and far away. “You shouldn’t have come here. Ten more minutes and we’d have been gone.”
“You won’t get far, you know,” Mary sputtered, now sounding equally as angry as Edna felt. “Go to the police and confess. Things’ll go better for you.”
As if snapped out of a trance, Jake stood, a grim expression hardening his features as he looked down at them. “Laurel’s death was an accident, but who’s to believe me with no witnesses. I can’t go to jail. I’d never make it in prison, and Roselyn won’t make it on her own. I’m all she’s got.”
As he said this, Roselyn came forward and stepped briefly into his arms. She rested her forehead against his chest for a second or two before moving away toward the back door. She hadn’t spoken and she didn’t look back. Jake stared at Edna for another heartbeat before turning to follow his wife.
Mary, lying on her side next to Edna, was watching them retreat, too. “You can’t leave us here like this,” she called.
“Nobody will find us until after Christmas,” Edna added, her voice trailing off as the horror of that thought struck home.
Roselyn disappeared out to the parking lot without the slightest hesitation, but Jake stood and looked back. When he hesitated, Edna’s heart lifted with hope until he spoke. “Juliana will come in tonight to feed the animals. She’ll cut you free. By then, we should be far enough away. I’m really sorry we had to do this. If you just hadn’t come here this morning …” He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, shaking his head, he slipped out after his wife and shut the door.
Edna heard the sound of a keyed bolt sliding into place, followed soon by a car’s engine and then silence. She looked over at Mary. “We’re in it this time.”
Chapter 23
“Don’t worry,” Mary said, struggling to sit up. “Bethany knows where we are.”
“Bethany is sleeping in,” Edna reminded her. “When she wakes up and you haven’t come home, she’ll think either we’re still shopping or you’re at my house and will be home soon.” At least a full half-minute of silence passed before Edna said in a quieter voice, “How long do you think it will take her to realize something’s wrong?”
As she spoke, Edna began shifting her legs in a sideways crab-walk to turn herself around so she could examine the wall and space behind her. The manoeuver wasn’t difficult since her coat slid easily on the linoleum floor while the rubber heels of her boots held firm. With her back to the room, she was sitting knee to shoulder with Mary and about two feet away.
“Mary, look,” she said, pointing with her chin to a wall phone in the recess above the counter. A long, curled cord connected the receiver to the cradle. “If I could stand, I can dislodge that phone and dial nine-one-one.”
“How’re you gonna do that?”
“With my nose.”
Mary snorted. “Not ‘dial.’ I meant how’re you gonna stand up with your feet taped together?”
“I attended enough of my children’s gymnastic events to figure it out, I think. Use your heels to push yourself over to that cupboard. I’m going to back up against it. If I can brace my knees against your back, I think I can use the tension to help me stand. Just keep pushing back against my legs.”
Hope and excitement filled her chest, as Edna inched her way over to the wall. She positioned herself so that, as she slid up the wall, she would avoid both the hinges and the handle of the cupboard door. Mary, following Edna’s example, propelled her way backwards until her shoulders were against Edna’s drawn-up knees. Edna shimmied against the smooth cupboard door and, with the help of her hands pressing into the wood, managed to raise herself three or four inches off the floor. She was momentarily stymied when her boots wouldn’t slide backwards under Mary’s pressure.
“Hold on,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” Mary tried to look around, but couldn’t crane her neck far enough.
“My feet need to move closer to the wall as I go up. Let me think.”
Edna sat for a minute before deciding the best thing to do would be to pull her legs into her chest as far as she could manage. She’d still be slanted, balancing on her head and shoulder blades, but she might be able to propel herself upright without falling over on Mary. She explained what she wanted to do and, to her delight and surprise, it worked. The final thrust was somew
hat awkward when she nearly fell before pressing her knees into Mary’s shoulders to balance herself, but she was standing.
“Don’t move for a minute,” she said. “I need to catch my breath.”
By the time she’d rested for nearly a minute, Edna had figured out how she would manoeuver the next foot to the rim of the counter. With her ankles bound, she’d definitely fall over, if she tried to hop. Her legs had been outstretched when Jake bound her ankles, so one boot sole was a fraction higher than the other. She found, however, with her right foot flat on the floor, she could press down with either toe or heel of her left foot to help her balance. Shifting both feet together in a careful toe-then-heel movement, she first backed up against the wall where she could use her hands to help steady herself, and then slowly sidled her way to the counter. When she was able to grasp the lip of the shelf, she looked back down at Mary and saw her friend grinning up at her.
“Nice goin’, Edna.”
Pleased and encouraged, she twisted her body slightly to study the phone while she maintained a tentative grip on the counter. The bottom of the receiver was about even with her temple. Straining her neck, she was able to nudge the receiver up with her chin. Loosened from its cradle, the instrument hit the side of her face, slid down to bounce off the counter and landed with a crash on the floor. Edna stood still, her heart in her throat.
Mary fell on her side and snaked her way over to put an ear to the receiver.
“Is it broken?” Edna asked, barely daring to breath.
“Maybe. I don’t hear a dial tone.”
Edna stretched her neck again until her nose pressed against the nine on the keypad. Standing on her tiptoes, she was just able to hit the one. Pushing against the button twice, she carefully lowered herself from her toes and looked down at Mary. “Anything?” she asked in a near whisper.
Mary shook her head. “Maybe this one’s connected to the phone at the front desk and you can’t call out from here.”
Murder by Christmas (Edna Davies mysteries) Page 18
