by Hillary Avis
“Did something happen between them?” Allison asked, careful not to sound too interested. But Hedy didn’t seem to mind gossiping about her sister.
“It’s not what happened between them. It’s who.” Hedy wiggled her drawn-on eyebrows.
“Oh?”
Hedy refilled her cup and settled down on the bed. Lester hopped from her shoulder to the headboard and leaned over her head, bobbing to catch wisps of her curly white hair as she spoke. “Lil and Gert were classmates. Remembrance High Class of 1958. Best friends from kindergarten up until the junior-senior prom. That night, Lil’s boyfriend dumped her in front of the whole school! Left her standing there with a big ol’ corsage on her wrist while he drove off with Gert in his Cabriolet. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Allison cocked her head to the side. Something didn’t add up about Hedy’s story. “I thought you said you were much younger than Gertrude. What were you doing at the junior-senior prom?”
“I was a junior.” Hedy shrugged. “A year is a long time when you’re that age.”
Allison suppressed a grin. Hedy’s idea of “much younger” was a scant twelve months. “Must have been humiliating for Lilian. But it seems bizarre to hold a grudge for sixty-something years over a high school boyfriend. I can’t even remember the name of the guy who took me to prom.” Allison chuckled.
“Frankly, I don’t know what either of them saw in Harman, anyway,” Hedy said, nodding as she swirled the gin in her glass. “But it wasn’t just a high school fling. Harman and Gert got married that summer. He was eighteen and she was seventeen, and you know how it is at that age. Nobody can tell you no. And if they do, it makes you all the more determined.” Hedy barked a laugh and tossed back the last bit of her drink.
“How did Lil react? Was she upset, or did she accept that they were meant to be together?”
Hedy stared at her. “Obviously she was upset, or she wouldn’t have killed Gertrude!”
Allison nodded, doubt clouding her thoughts. It seemed like a stretch that Lilian would stay angry at Gertrude for so many decades. But then again, dementia had a way of erasing the years. Maybe all those old wounds were made fresh again.
She stood up. “Well, I’d better see myself out. It was nice meeting you, Hedy. I wish it were under better circumstances.”
Above Hedy’s head, Lester flapped his wings noisily, sending small white feathers flying around the bed. “Get out!” he squawked.
“That’s his way of saying ‘I love you.’ I think he really enjoyed this little visit. Birds are social animals, you know.” Hedy looked adoringly up at the agitated cockatoo.
Allison nodded. “My condolences again. Just curious...”
Hedy looked up. “What?”
“Did Gertrude have life insurance?”
Hedy brayed a laugh. “I wish! Why do you ask?”
Allison shifted uncomfortably and Pogo whined, seeming to sense her unease. The cockatoo whipped his head to the side and stared at the dog with one beady eye. “I just thought...well, if she did have life insurance, then the money might be the reason someone wanted her dead. The insurance beneficiary or whoever stood to inherit her estate.”
“That would be me. You thought maybe I wanted her dead? Sure I did—now I’m the pretty one!” Hedy winked.
Allison chuckled politely. As she dropped her plastic cup into the waste basket on the way out of the motel room, she couldn’t help thinking that Hedy didn’t seem the least bit upset that her sister had been murdered. She paused at the door and took another look at the woman stretched out on the bed. Though Hedy had to be seventy-nine if she was a day, under her vivid purple kimono she was sturdy and muscular—and totally capable of climbing into a window in the dead of night.
Chapter 8
“Where could it be?” Allison asked Pogo as she skimmed the titles of the books shelved on the right side of the fireplace. “Not in the kitchen, surely.”
From his place on the sofa, Pogo yawned, his tongue curling back in his mouth. Allison yawned sympathetically and glanced at the clock on the mantel. Ten past midnight.
“I know, we should go to bed.” Allison glanced toward her suitcase where it still stood at the foot of the stairs in the foyer. She hadn’t even decided which bedroom she wanted to sleep in yet, the front or the back. They were roughly the same size, but the front bedroom had a larger closet and the back one had a little nook outfitted with a desk.
She drew in her breath sharply. Of course, memories about school events would be shelved near the desk! She practically flew up the stairs. Pogo barked delightedly as he chased her heels down the short upstairs hall. He was probably sick of hanging out with a sedate, middle-aged woman all day. She could only imagine how happy he’d be with a house full of kids to chase around.
“Maybe we’ll find you a forever family with a child to play with,” she said to him absentmindedly.
He bowed, inviting her to run the other way down the hall, but she shook her head and laughed. “I can’t! I have work to do. Anyway, it’s past your bedtime, so don’t get too wound up.”
She shook her finger at him and then marched into the back bedroom. It was a perfectly nice room, outfitted with a brass bed and a round braided rug. The little desk was tucked into an alcove and above it were shelves of books. Allison leaned close and turned on the desk lap so she could make out the titles better. Remembrance High 2019. Remembrance High 2018. Remembrance High 2017.
For once, the books in this library were arranged in a logical order, from newest to oldest, the last of which dated all the way back to 1935. The books with more recent years printed on them were quite thick, but the older ones were narrower. Remembrance High 1935 was so thin that the words on the spine were barely legible. She pulled it off the shelf and checked the table of contents. It only had one entry: “Clyde Thompson’s Winning Touchdown in the Remembrance vs. Elkhorn Football Game.”
That chapter title seemed oddly specific until she remembered that any high school student in 1935 had to be at least a hundred years old now. It wasn’t too surprising that the memories of that time had dwindled down to one significant event.
Allison slid the book back onto the shelf and scanned for the year that Hedy said Lilian’s boyfriend dumped her and married Gertrude. If that single event had led to sixty years of bad feelings, Allison had to know exactly what happened. She located the 1958 yearbook and found the chapter she’d hoped for: Junior-Senior Prom, page forty-seven. She flipped to it and began reading.
“The smell of the gardenia corsage was so strong it made her nose wrinkle. She’d always thought gardenias were the most romantic flower a guy could give a girl...” The scene swam in front of her eyes, and suddenly Allison stood on the front steps of Remembrance High School with the other girls, wearing a pale blue tulle formal gown and clutching a white, patent-leather purse. She had on her mother’s high heels, which were a size too large so she’d stuffed the toes with tissue paper to make them fit better.
The smell of her corsage assaulted her nostrils. It had been kind of Harman to buy it for her. She knew he didn’t have much money and she’d been prepared to make do with a carnation, but he’d sprung for the fanciest one at the florist. It even had ribbons that matched her skirt.
Harman pulled up to the curb in his pale blue convertible, the one she’d picked her dress to match. It was the envy of every boy in school—and every girl, too. Sometimes Harman would let her take it for a drive around the school parking lot even though she didn’t have her driver’s license. He waved at her. “Hey, pretty lady! Need a ride?”
She blushed. She wished he didn’t always make such a big scene, but that was Harman. She started down the steps toward him, but someone else jostled past her, returning Harman’s wave. It was Gertrude, her severe brown bob topped with a red satin bow. She had her pointy pumps clutched in one hand and was taking the stairs two at a time in her stocking feet.
Allison’s mouth dropped open. Didn’t she care about getting runs
in her stockings? And where was she going so fast, anyway?
Allison got her answer two seconds later when Gertrude leaned over the side of Harman’s Cabriolet and planted a big wet one right on his lips. He didn’t seem to mind a bit. He hauled Gertrude over the door and she fell, laughing, into the passenger seat. Gertrude looked up the steps at Allison and gave a little shrug, a triumphant smile quirking the corner of her shiny red lips.
The people around Allison started whispering—they were as confused as she felt.
“You shouldn’t have let him dance with her,” a voice murmured beside her. Allison turned and saw Hedy standing there in her pink taffeta formal with a matching bow in her hair. “You should have kept him to yourself.”
“She’s my friend,” Allison said. “I trusted her. I didn’t think—”
“That’s right, you didn’t think!” Hedy crowed. “She didn’t think, folks! She didn’t have a think in her head. No-think at all.”
The other girls nearby giggled. “Lilian’s a no-think now,” one said.
Allison’s cheeks burned. She knew it wasn’t really happening, but her stomach was knotted as tight as Lilian’s must have been when this was more than a memory. She looked back at the car, which was still idling at the curb. Gertrude was kissing Harman’s neck now, leaving bright lipstick smudges on his white collar. Allison couldn’t believe this was happening.
Harman caught her eye and winked at her, his grin just as cheeky as it always was. She knew exactly what he was doing—putting on a show. He didn’t care for Gertrude one bit. He was just using her to get attention, as usual. Well, he wasn’t getting away with it this time. She whirled on her heel to call her father on the school’s payphone, and the scene faded into a gray mist.
Allison blinked, trying to see what happened next. But try as she might, the images and sensations of the 1958 Junior-Senior Prom refused to return. The memory was over. She closed the book and slid it back into its place on the shelf.
Now that she’d seen what had really happened, she was more confused than ever.
Hedy had been telling the truth—she’d watched Lilian on the school steps wearing her fancy corsage as Gertrude and Harman drove off together. But Hedy didn’t know everything. As mad as Lilian was about it, she didn’t seem to think that Harman had dumped her...not really. And his mischievous wink over Gertrude’s head sure didn’t seem platonic, either.
There was more to the story...somewhere.
Chapter 9
Saturday
Allison didn’t bother tying Pogo’s adoption kerchief around his neck before they left the house for the day. Instead, she gave his fur a quick brushing and tied his topknot with a bow because it made him look more like Tiny. She hoped Paul thought so, anyway.
She locked the front door behind them, and as they headed down the front walk toward the gate, Allison noticed a red sneaker dangling below the lower branches of the oak tree.
“Be careful up there,” she said in the general direction of the tree, and the sneaker immediately disappeared. The kid—Allison still couldn’t tell whether it was a boy or a girl—didn’t make a peep.
She stopped where the tree overhung the sidewalk and squinted up into the branches. She could just make out the kid’s sky-blue T-shirt near the trunk. “What’s your name?” she called up.
“Taylor,” came the muffled reply.
“I’m Allison. I just moved in.”
A scuffling sound came from the tree as Taylor lay down on one of the larger branches and shimmied out to where Allison stood.
Boy, she decided, when she saw the smattering of freckles across the kid’s nose and the thin spot in the fabric on the right knee of his jeans.
Taylor leaned to one side of the branch to see her better. “What’s your dog’s name?” he demanded, his eyes narrowed. This was clearly a test.
“Excuse my oversight! This is Pogo. But he’s not my dog. I’m just fostering him until he finds his people.”
“Does he bite?”
“Not unless you deserve it,” Allison said very seriously. Then, seeing Taylor’s eyes widen, she laughed. “I’m joking. He’s very friendly.”
Taylor swung down from the branch, dangled by his arms for a moment, then dropped to the sidewalk. He kneeled and held out his hand toward Pogo. Pogo took one sniff and decided Taylor was a friend. He jumped up and licked Taylor’s face until, laughing, the boy pushed him away.
He looked at Allison. “Can I walk him sometimes?”
She nodded. “I don’t see why not. You’ll have to pick up after him, though.”
Taylor frowned as he stared at Pogo. “You mean the poop?”
She nodded again.
“Hm.” He wedged one of his sneakers between the slats in the picket fence and carefully found a toehold for his other shoe on the top rail. Then in one graceful movement, he pushed himself upward, gingerly teetering for a moment before clasping the branch overhead and pulling himself back up into the tree. He poked his head around the branch, still frowning. “I’ll think about it.”
She grinned up at him. “You do that.”
Who knew—maybe Pogo would find a new home right next door. Every child needed a dog, right? Allison hoped Taylor’s family would feel the same. She felt a spring in her step as she walked the two blocks to Golden Gardens.
Inside, she saw right away that the crime scene tape had been removed from Lilian and Gertrude’s door, though it was still closed. The police must have finished processing the room for evidence.
Myra and another caregiver were doling out breakfast to the residents—bowls of oatmeal with cinnamon and banana slices, steaming cups of decaf and herbal tea, tiny glasses of prune juice. Lilian was nowhere to be seen, but Allison spotted Paul at the end of one table, staring at his bowl. He’d never been a big fan of hot cereal; his favorite breakfast was scrambled eggs piled on toasted slice of pumpernickel rye. Had he forgotten that, too? She watched as he picked up his spoon and began eating, his movements mechanical and automatic. Apparently, his distaste for hot cereal had disappeared along with his recollection of their marriage.
Myra, finished distributing the meal, came over and squeezed Allison’s shoulder in one-armed hug. “How’re you doing?”
It was just like Myra to be concerned about everyone else when her own life was full of stress and upheaval. The woman had a murder in her workplace and moved house yesterday and here she was asking about someone else’s welfare. A million thoughts ran through Allison’s mind as she drew up new mental lists of Things I Can Tell People and Things I Cannot. Unfortunately, it seemed like most things landed in the “cannot” category, even if it was Myra. “Um, fine, I guess. How’s it going with you?”
Myra sighed. “It’s going, all right.”
“Is everything OK on the farm?” Allison felt a pang of guilt. After all, if she hadn’t taken over the library, Myra would still have her own place. If her new living situation was problematic, she had nowhere to go.
“Oh, yes. Crystal and the kids are excited that I moved in, and frankly so am I. Those babies are growing too quick. I swear, every time I turn around, they’re a foot taller.”
Relieved, Allison smiled. “They do grow up fast. What’s bothering you, then?”
“It just wears on me that Ms. Lilian is stuck in there all day.” Myra nodded toward the bedroom with the closed door. “She needs stimulation. I mean, in prison they don’t lock them up all day and night. Even the murderers in solitary confinement get time in the yard or else they go crazy. Officer Lee doesn’t even let her use the little girls’ room on her own.”
“The cop is in there, too?”
Myra folded her arms, her expression darkening. “Yes, I told her she was scaring people standing in front of the door all day with a gun hanging off her belt. I asked if she could just wear regular clothes to blend in a little more, but she said her job was to protect the residents and she needed her weapon for that. So I told her to keep it behind closed doors. But that
means Ms. Lilian is stuck behind closed doors, too. She’s probably disoriented, and if that cop is badgering her, who knows what she’s saying. If I wasn’t so shorthanded, I’d go in and sit with her.”
Allison bit her tongue before she volunteered for the job. She should visit with Paul first, at least. “I called Zack and he said Lilian’s lawyer should have her plead to a lesser charge in exchange for lenient sentencing. He says she may even be able to stay here if Golden Gardens can make sure the other residents are safe.”
“They’ll be a whole lot safer without armed guards wandering around,” Myra said darkly. “I’m having nightmares about one of them getting confused and grabbing the gun from her, and then who knows what would happen.”
“How long will she be here?” Allison asked.
“No way of knowing. I called Leroy and he said once Ms. Gertrude’s autopsy report is filed and the death is ruled a homicide, Ms. Lilian will be charged and they’ll decide what to do with her. Could be a day, could be a week.” Myra twisted the hem of her emerald green scrubs in her hands, and then looked up and grinned at Allison. “I don’t know if I’ll make it ’til then before I give Madam Lee a piece of my mind.”
“Try to control yourself. Even if you manage to get rid of her, then you’ll be stuck with Leroy.” Allison giggled. But underneath her laughter, she felt a tiny squeeze of worry and guilt. When charges were brought against Lilian, Allison would have to step forward with what she knew about the open window, which meant that she’d be the one under Officer Lee’s watchful eye, not Lilian. And right now, any “contradictory evidence” she had was pure speculation. Time was running out.
“Oh, not Leroy!” Myra made a face. “I guess I’ll give the new girl a chance. Now I better go get Ms. Lilian’s breakfast to her.”
