Murder of a Sweet Old Lady srm-2

by Denise Swanson

  After mixing the cleaning solution as directed, Skye took a brush and set to work.

  Skye had a date with Simon the next day. He was picking her up at nine and they were going to spend all of Saturday together. She got up at seven so she’d have time both to get ready and call her mom.

  May answered on the first ring. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. In fact, I took your advice about asking the twins how to clean deer blood.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Of course I didn’t tell them the real reason I was asking, so make sure you don’t tell either.”

  “Why would I say anything? I’m just glad to see you talking to your cousins.”

  “Actually, I went a little further.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, well, I, ah, invited them over for brunch tomorrow. Victoria, too.”

  “That’s great. Maybe you’ll all get to be closer now that you’re home.”

  “I hope so.”

  “What are you serving?”

  “I’ll start with mimosas and Bellinis.” The champagne drinks were sure to loosen tongues. “Next, cantaloupe bowls with fresh fruit and quiche. And your famous lemon silk sherbet with dream bars for the perfect ending.”

  Simon arrived precisely on time, looking cool and elegant in khakis and a short-sleeved denim shirt. Skye wore a denim skort and striped polo shirt.

  After Simon gave Bingo the appropriate number of pets and scratches they got into Simon’s Lexus.

  Hand on the wheel, Simon asked, “Where to, my lady? Your chauffeur awaits.”

  “Are you sure you don’t have somewhere in mind?”

  “Nope, it’s up to you.” Simon smiled and took her hand.

  “Well, last time you let me choose, you didn’t like it, but if you’re truly a man of your word . . .” Skye trailed off, watching his reaction.

  Simon’s eyes narrowed as he recalled the instance she referred to. “One qualification: nothing illegal.”

  “Okay, I can live with that.” Under her breath Skye added, “Probably.”

  “So, what do you want to do?”

  “Go visit a little old lady.”

  CHAPTER 20

  How I Wonder What You Are

  One of the reasons Skye needed to talk Simon into going to see the old nurse was because she was afraid to drive in Chicago. She mostly blamed this on her lousy sense of direction, although sometimes she wondered if it wasn’t really because May had frightened her when she was a teen with stories of all the awful things that took place in big cities.

  Simon’s voice broke through her reflections. “What’s the address?”

  “It’s 11502 Avenue D,” Skye read off a slip of paper.

  He reached into the pouch on the door and withdrew an atlas of the city and surrounding suburbs. After studying it for several minutes, he inserted his business card to keep his page and placed the book between them. “That’s on the south side. A changing neighborhood, as they say.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that at one time it was a mostly working-class Polish area, but about ten years ago poorer minorities started moving in and the whites moved out. The elderly were pretty much left behind.” Simon started the car and guided it out of the driveway.

  “Why?”

  “Most of them hung on too long and when they finally wanted to move, the value of their houses had decreased so much they could no longer afford to go. Because they were on fixed incomes, they had nothing more to add to the pot.” He drove steadily, exiting onto Interstate 55.

  “I figured Esther is anywhere from sixty to eighty-five. Minnie’s friend said Minnie was a senior when she went away, so she must have been about seventeen or eighteen. She’s fifty now, so this whole thing took place about thirty-three or four years ago. But if what you say about the neighborhood is true, Esther’s probably on the older end of my estimate.”

  “Let me get this straight. You want to find this woman because she took care of your aunts thirty-three years ago when Minnie had a breakdown. Right?”

  “Right. I’d like to know more about what everyone calls a breakdown. There are a lot of mental states that could refer to.” Skye watched as he skillfully maneuvered through the thick traffic.

  “And you need to know this because . . . ?” Simon trailed off.

  “Because I want to know if Minnie has a history of mental illness that would suggest she is capable of harming either herself or others.”

  “You still question whether she really attempted suicide?”

  “Yes, but if she did, she’s certainly a prime suspect for having also killed Grandma.” Skye was surprised at the lump that gathered in her throat and the sorrow she still felt over her grandmother’s death.

  They drove in companionable silence, listening to a classical music station that Simon favored. At first Skye knew where she was, but after the third change of highway she became hopelessly lost.

  When Simon finally exited onto 103rd Street, it looked as if they had traveled to another country. Signs were in Spanish, Polish, and languages she didn’t recognize.

  A few turns and Simon stopped the car in front of a detached two-story home. Its siding appeared to be made of gravel and tar paper. The windows and door were heavily barred.

  They climbed steep concrete steps, holding on to the black metal railing. There were two bells. Neither had a name. Skye looked at Simon, who shrugged. Taking a guess, she pressed the bottom bell and hoped for the best.

  They waited. They could hear shuffling sounds that seemed to grow nearer. Finally the front door was flung open, leaving the barred storm door between them and the woman on the other side.

  Her size and age were hard to determine because she was bent over with a dowager’s hump on her back. She leaned on a cane and scowled.

  Skye felt herself rushing to find the right words. “Hello, my name is Skye Denison and this is my friend Simon Reid. We’re looking for Esther Prynn.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you Ms. Prynn?”

  “I don’t go for that Miz crap. I’m Miss Prynn. Have been for the last seventy-five years and will be on my tombstone.”

  “We’re from Scumble River. I understand you did some private duty nursing there back in the sixties.” Skye made herself sound more sure of her facts than she was.

  “Maybe. Used to help out lots of folks from the country. What’s it to you?”

  “Would it be possible for us to come in and discuss this? I’m sure your neighbors don’t need to know our business.” Skye put her hand on the door handle. This was sort of like a home visit. Not pleasant, but something she was trained to do.

  Miss Prynn looked them both up and down, then demanded, “Let me see some identification.”

  They pressed their driver’s licenses against the bars. She squinted between the tiny photos and their faces, finally unlocking the door and permitting them to pass. She carefully turned keys and bolts behind them.

  Once inside, they found themselves in a small foyer with scarred wooden steps leading upstairs. To their right was another door.

  It was through that portal that their hostess led them to a small living room crowded with dusty overstuffed furniture. There was one hard chair in the room, and Skye, remembering the advice of a social worker during her training, chose to sit there. Miss Prynn settled into what was obviously “her” chair, which left the couch for Simon.

  “So, what’s so important? I’m missing my TV program.” Miss Prynn clutched the remote.

  “Do you remember working a case in Scumble River about thirty-three years ago?” Skye sat forward.

  Miss Prynn rubbed her temple. “Maybe. I worked lots of cases in that neck of the woods.”

  “I was told that back in the early to mid-sixties you helped out when one of my aunts had a nervous breakdown. Her name was Minnie Leofanti.”

  “Mmm, Leofanti. That name does sound familiar. But I’m remembering a different first name.�
�� Miss Prynn stared at the blank television screen. “Name was Mona, not Minnie.”

  Skye, hardly containing her excitement, struggled to keep her voice level. “Well, as I understand it, Minnie’s younger sister, Mona, accompanied her when you came for them. Could that be the mix-up?”

  Miss Prynn sank back in her chair. “Sure, I remember now. Two girls, both in their teens. Pretty little things. Didn’t look at all Eyetalian like their name.”

  Skye restrained herself from correcting the older woman’s pronunciation and explaining about the blonds of northern Italy. “Yes, that would be them. Do you remember where you took them for treatment?”

  When Miss Prynn didn’t answer, Skye tried another question. “Do you recall what Minnie’s diagnosis was?”

  Miss Prynn’s eyes took on a cunning gleam and she rubbed her hands together. “I might be able to remember. Keep all my records right here for safekeeping and I could go back and look, but you know that information is all confidential.”

  “I realize that, and I understand your position. I’m a psychologist myself, but this could be a life-and-death situation. I’d be very grateful.” Skye tried to connect with her, one professional to another.

  “Grateful, huh? Just how grateful would you be?” Miss Prynn’s eyes brightened.

  Skye frowned. “I’m afraid I—”

  Simon cut her off. “How much would it take?”

  Miss Prynn smiled. “Ten thousand?”

  Simon stood up and took Skye’s arm, forcing her to rise, too.

  “Five thousand?” The old lady’s voice took on a whiny tone.

  Taking out his wallet, Simon said, “One hundred, for your inconvenience.”

  “Five hundred. It could mean my license.”

  Skye found her voice. “Two-fifty. You don’t practice anymore.”

  Miss Prynn fisted her hands. She looked at the shabby room and small television set. Frustration mixed with anger on her face. “Okay. You know, you’re as much of a bitch as your aunt was.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ll take a check?” Skye asked, half in jest.

  “Cash. Tens and twenties.” Miss Prynn stood. “I’ll dig out the file tonight. You bring the money Monday morning, first thing.”

  “Why not tomorrow?” Skye frowned.

  “Not on the Sabbath.” Miss Prynn locked the door behind them.

  It was nearly midnight when Simon dropped Skye at her cottage. They had decided to spend the rest of the day at Lake Geneva and had taken the late dinner cruise.

  Simon walked Skye to the door and took her in his arms. “What a great day. I love being near the water.”

  Skye reached up and smoothed his hair back at the temple. “The company wasn’t bad either.”

  He nuzzled her ear and a shiver ran down her spine. She could feel the sexual magnetism that made him so self-confident. His lips met hers and happiness filled her.

  As their kiss deepened, his hand closed over her breast and she pulled away. He was so very good-looking and she reacted so strongly to him; she couldn’t let this go any further. Dark memories of her ex-fiancé surfaced. She wasn’t ready to completely trust another man.

  Simon looked down at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “We’re both tired. Maybe we should talk about this some other time.” Skye refused to meet his eyes.

  “I’ve heard that excuse before. I think we need to get this into the open.” He waited, daring her to be honest.

  Skye sat down on the concrete step. “What more is there to say? I’ve told you before I wasn’t ready for anything but a casual relationship.”

  Simon joined her on the stair, his mouth spread in a thin-lipped smile. “You told me all right, but that was nine months ago. Most couples move forward, but you’re stuck in the past.”

  She ducked her head. Maybe he was right. She wasn’t being very mature or very strong. But the few times she had allowed herself to be totally swept away by love had always turned out disastrously. She was afraid of her own taste in men. “I’m sorry Simon, but I’m just not ready to go through the humiliation again.”

  “You think it would be humiliating to love me?” His voice was cold.

  “No, that isn’t what I mean.” Skye looked up at the stars and wished she could be different. “Whenever I become truly, deeply involved with a man I lose my common sense, my good judgment.”

  Simon’s lips twisted into a cynical smile. “You mean you do worse things than breaking and entering or buying confidential medical records?”

  Skye narrowed her eyes and looked at him for the first time since they had begun talking. “Comments like that just prove what I’m saying. You don’t understand my needs and ambitions, but you expect me to understand yours.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Simon stood up. “How can I understand? You’ve never told me what happened with your ex-fiancé.”

  She met his accusing eyes without flinching. “There’s nothing much to tell. He was handsome, charming, rich, and held an impressive social position in New Orleans’ society. I was awed that he had any interest in me and so unsure of myself that I allowed myself to become his puppet. I agreed with things I felt strongly against. I said things I didn’t mean. And I did things I’ll regret to my dying day. All to please him.”

  “You were out of your element, away from home. That wouldn’t necessarily happen again.” Simon took her hand.

  She shook off his touch. “When things went wrong with my job and the threat of a scandal became known, he dumped me and never looked back.” Skye stood up and whispered, “He never even said good-bye.”

  “I’m not like that. Let me prove to you that isn’t how all men are.”

  Skye took a ragged breath. He was slicing open a barely healed wound. “I need more time.” Time to forget, to erase the pain. “Can’t we just go on the way we’ve been? Have fun without becoming serious?”

  Simon wrapped his hands around her upper arms and forced her to look at him. Rancor sharpened his voice. “No. I want more. And if you aren’t prepared to give it to me, then I have to look elsewhere. Time is moving on. I don’t want to be sixty when my kids graduate from high school.”

  He spoke so viciously that she wondered how she could have ever thought him kind. “I’m sorry. I’m just not ready. I lose myself when I’m in love. I’m afraid your opinion will become more important than mine. I’m afraid I’ll become so terrified of losing you I’ll do anything to keep your love.”

  “I guess that’s it, then.” He paused as if challenging her to go through with it. When the silence between them became unbearable, Simon turned on his heel and strode toward his car. Over his shoulder he said, “Don’t expect me to call. This time it’s over.”

  Skye watched until the Lexus’s taillights were out of sight. What had she just done? Slowly she turned, unlocked the door, and went in. It took a few moments to register, but she finally noticed the light was on in the kitchen. She didn’t think she’d left any lights on.

  After that scene with Simon, she was in no mood for another intruder or more vandalism. Skye flung up the hinged seat of the hall bench and grabbed the shotgun. She had just about had it. This time she was shooting first and asking questions later.

  As she stepped into the kitchen, Skye let the gun slide to her side. The table was covered with food and there was a note in her mother’s handwriting: I was afraid you wouldn’t have enough time so I made the food for your brunch. I also cleaned up a little. Hope everything is okay. Love, Mom.

  Skye shook her head. What a sweet thing to do. It was too late to call and thank her mom, but she’d do that before church tomorrow. Still, she’d have to make it clear to her mother that from now on, Skye would prepare for her own parties or she’d have to take May’s key away. It was all too much. Simon, her grandmother’s murder, her parents’ need to help—Skye curled into the corner of the sofa and buried her head.

  Ginger and Gillian arrived together. This was their first visit to Skye’s cottage and
curiosity shone on their identical faces. Skye guided them through the foyer and into the great room. She had placed a folding table and chairs next to the sliding glass doors, where the view of the river was best.

  “Make yourselves at home. Victoria should be here any minute.” Skye gestured to the sofa.

  “Victoria’s coming?” Gillian settled into the corner of the couch.

  “She accepted my invitation.” Skye raised an eyebrow. “Is there some reason why she wouldn’t want to have brunch with us?”

  Ginger and Gillian looked at each other. Skye could see the silent communication and was frustrated by her inability to interpret what was being conveyed.

  The uneasy silence was broken by the ringing of the phone.

  Skye started toward the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “Excuse me.”

  Trixie’s voice greeted Skye’s hello. “I talked to my cousin. We can see her today at six. That’s when the pharmacist goes home for his dinner break.”

  “I’m surprised the drugstore is even open on Sunday, let alone so late.”

  “The owner is trying to compete with the new Wal-Mart in Laurel. He can’t stay open twenty-four hours, but he is open eight a.m. to eight p.m. seven days a week,” Trixie said.

  “Great. I’ll pick you up about five to. I can’t talk now. I’m entertaining my cousins.”

  “What are you going to do to them? Is this the pay-back for having kidnapped you?” Trixie asked excitedly.

  “Nothing and no. I’m trying to forgive and forget.”

  “And pry information out of them, I bet,” Trixie guessed.

  Skye didn’t comment. “See you tonight. Bye.”

  As she rejoined Gillian and Ginger, the doorbell rang. Victoria entered in a miasma of Obsession and a flurry of georgette. Her lilac slip dress and high-heeled white sandals made Skye feel underdressed for her own party.

  The twins tugged at their own clothes, making it clear Victoria had the same effect on them.

  No one said anything until Skye remembered her manners. “So glad you could make it on such short notice. Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us some drinks.”