“Bah! Ain’t providin’ him no cell phone. Waste of money. Besides, that don’t tell me where he is.”
“Well, obviously, he’s not here.” Looking for a distraction, Edna leaned over to swap her sketchbook for a trowel and gardening gloves that lay beside a nearby planter. Trying hard to ignore Norm, she pinned the trowel against her side with one arm while she methodically pulled on the gloves, hoping he would take the hint and leave.
“He’s probably off playing with that grandson of his.”
“And why not?” She smiled at the thought and looked up at the clear, blue sky. “It’s a beautiful day.”
“Bah,” Norm spat again. He took the pick out of his mouth and pointed it at her. “We’ll see when he turns in his hours. We’ll see.” Scowling, he jabbed the tiny stick back into his mouth. “You’re the one’ll get charged in the end.” He chuckled to himself as he started to turn around.
“Tom gives us a detailed account of his time and materials, you know.” When Norm didn’t respond, Edna went on, wanting him to know he wouldn’t get the better of her. “I keep my own log of the time Tom spends here,” she lied, “and I’ll certainly notice if you charge us in excess of those hours.
“You’re probably in cahoots.” Norm’s beady eyes narrowed as he glanced sideways at her. “I bet you pay him extra in cash.”
“I think you’d better leave.” She bent toward a small potted plant, examining the leaves with a concentration she didn’t feel as she watched Norm out of the corner of her eye. Without another word, he ambled back toward the driveway and his ancient Ford pickup. She followed at a distance to the corner of the house, making sure Norm left her property. As she waited for her heart to stop thudding with anger at the man’s accusations, she wondered how two such different men could come from the same family.
Still on edge, Edna went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Since it was almost one o’clock, she made a sandwich, and after lunch, she felt as if her blood pressure had dropped back to normal. When she returned to weed the herb garden, the rest of the afternoon passed quickly.
She was deep in thought, mentally composing her garden club talk as she pulled the last weed in the patch she’d been working on. So engrossed was she that she didn’t hear Mary approach until her neighbor spoke.
“Are you busy?”
Edna jumped, dropped her spade and spun around, her heart pounding. “You scared the life out of me.” The feeling of annoyance disappeared at once when she noticed Mary’s red and swollen eyes. “Oh dear, what’s the matter?”
Mary opened and shut her mouth several times, like a banked fish gasping for water, before finally squeaking, “Tom’s in the hospital.”
Edna frowned, uncertain she’d heard correctly. “You can’t mean Tom Greene.” She stared at her neighbor in disbelief, making no sense of the news.
Mary could only nod, her face a mask of misery. A single teardrop leaked from the corner of her eye, and she took a deep, unsteady breath. “It’s pretty bad.”
“That can’t be.” Edna felt unaccountably angry. Mary was being absurd. She must be mistaken. “He was right here a few hours ago. He was fine. You saw him.”
Mary looked down at her feet and said nothing.
Slowly, anxiety began to replace Edna’s anger. “An accident?” she asked. Thinking about it, she couldn’t imagine what else it might be. “A car accident?” When Mary still didn’t speak, Edna scowled. “Is Danny all right? Was Tom’s grandson hurt, too?”
Mary shook her head, obviously trying to gain control of herself, then lifted a tear-soaked tissue and blew her nose.
“What is it?” Edna felt her insides grow cold. She shook Mary gently but firmly. “Please … tell me what happened.”
“They don’t know.” Tears filled Mary’s eyes and overflowed onto her cheeks. She made no move to wipe them away.
Edna, growing increasingly agitated by Mary’s seeming evasiveness, decided they both needed something to calm themselves. “I think we can use a cup of tea,” she said, putting an arm around Mary’s waist. Supporting the younger woman as they moved toward the mudroom gave Edna the momentary diversion she needed to quiet her own nerves. When she opened the back door, Benjamin scooted in ahead of them.
In the kitchen, she sat Mary at the table and moved a box of tissues within reach. The activity of brewing tea relaxed Edna even more, and the tightness in her chest began to subside. She thought again that Mary must be exaggerating. How bad could Tom be?
While the hot tea steeped, Edna threw out the rest of the iced tea, since there really wasn’t enough to keep, and washed the glass canning jar. Besides keeping herself occupied, she wanted to give Mary time to gain control of herself. When Edna finally turned around with a steaming mug in each hand, she saw that Benjamin was sitting in Mary’s lap.
Her neighbor seemed totally absorbed, gently stroking the cat while he purred loudly enough for Edna to hear halfway across the room. She watched the two, enjoying the peaceful moment. How does Benjamin always know when someone needs comforting, she wondered.
An idea came to her as she watched. “Have you ever had a pet?”
“No,” Mary answered, then added in explanation. “Father wouldn’t allow it.”
“Why? Was he allergic?”
“I don’t think so. He always said animals were a nuisance.”
“Did you ever ask him if you could have a cat or dog?”
“I did once. I wanted a dog, but Father said no. Mother agreed with him, and Miss Hattie said she would quit if she had to take care of a dirty animal. Said she had enough on her hands taking care of me.” Mary smiled up at Edna. “I used to hide from her.”
Mary’s mischievous grin made Edna laugh, while at the same time she realized how Mary seemed to regress into childhood when she spoke of her parents. Edna could easily imagine the little red-headed girl causing her nanny no end of trouble. “Why don’t you get yourself a pet now?” she asked. “A cat or dog would be wonderful company.”
At first, Mary looked surprised, almost shocked, but then a thoughtful look came over her face before she bent her head and continued to stroke Benjamin’s fur. Watching her, Edna wondered if Mary would ever feel liberated from her parents or their rules. She didn’t press the pet idea but made a mental note to broach the subject again sometime.
Setting the cups on the table and sitting down next to Mary, she laid a hand on her neighbor’s wrist. “Why don’t you drink some tea? It’ll warm you.”
At Edna’s movements, Benjamin jumped down and moved off toward his dish of dry food. Mary sat still for another few minutes while Edna sipped her own tea and waited, struggling to keep her mind off Tom. Speculation would be worse than facts.
Finally, after taking a long, quivering breath, Mary spoke in a quiet voice. “He’s in a coma. He was already in a coma when the ambulance got to his house. It was Nancy who called nine-one-one. When I talked to her, she said her father complained of stomach pains as soon as he got home this afternoon and went right upstairs to lie down for a while. About an hour later, she went to check and found him on the bathroom floor. She could see he’d been pretty sick. That’s when she called emergency.”
Edna was stunned. For several seconds she could say nothing. Then she asked, “What’s being done for him?”
“They pumped his stomach, but that didn’t seem to do any good.”
“You said he’s in a coma?” Edna’s mind flipped through information she’d stored over the years of being a physician’s wife. She’d heard many strange stories, but couldn’t remember ever hearing of gastrointestinal distress leading to a coma. She switched her mind back to what Mary was saying.
“Well, he was still in a coma a half hour ago when I left the hospital. I wanted to stay, but they said there’s nothing we can do. Nancy didn’t want to leave either, but she had to pick Danny up from the neighbor’s.” In a fresh burst of tears, Mary blurted, “I feel so helpless.”
“I know, I know.” Edna p
ut out a hand and gently rubbed Mary’s back. When the younger woman’s tears finally lessened, Edna picked up her tea mug with both hands and felt its heat travel through her palms and up her arms, soothing and calming her as she pictured the strong, handsome man lying helplessly in a hospital bed. After a few minutes of silence, she set the cup down and spoke aloud the words that had begun to fill her head. “Our Father,” she began, “who art in Heaven.”
“Hallowed be Thy name.” Mary joined in.
Edna reached for Mary’s hand as they both sat and prayed for their friend.
Five
Edna was getting ready for bed that evening when the phone rang.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
The sound of Albert’s voice comforted her, something she badly needed after the last several hours of waiting in vain for word of Tom’s condition.
“Hello, dear,” she replied. “How was your flight?” She wanted to hear him talk, listen to him first, before she gave him the sad news.
“Not a hitch. No delays. Made it in plenty of time for the luncheon lecture.” She thought she detected a slight hesitation before he continued. “Edna, Honey, I’ve been invited by Dr. Isaacs, one of the pediatricians on my panel, to visit a children’s clinic in Denver. I’m thinking of extending my trip into next week. I’m going to call Grant, see if I can stay with them.”
There it was. Just a flicker of memory, but Dee’s words taunted her. You think he’ll be back on Sunday? Edna forced her attention onto Albert’s last words.
Grant was their son, their third child and the only one who lived more than a couple of hours’ drive away. He was the one Edna worried about most, having lost his first wife in a tragic accident and remarrying before he or his young daughter had had time to mourn properly, in Edna’s opinion. Or was she still angry that he hadn’t bothered to tell his parents about his second marriage until it was a fait accompli? His new wife was expecting a child in mid-December, not two months before their first wedding anniversary and only a year since Michele’s funeral. Edna had been very fond of Michele. Her fun-loving daughter-in-law had been a good foil for her overly serious son. Michele made Grant laugh. In fact, everyone’s mood seemed to brighten when Michele had been around.
Albert broke into her thoughts. “I know we’re driving out there for Thanksgiving, and you’re as anxious to see Grant and the family as I am, but I don’t know if Phil will be around during the holiday.” He’d apparently taken her silence as disapproval.
“Oh, no … that’s fine,” she stammered, bringing her mind back to the present. She’d been thinking of the skiing accident that had taken Michele’s life. “That sounds like a good idea. You can meet Karissa before we descend on them in November.”
“You don’t mind then about my being away longer than expected?”
Edna gave a short laugh. “Of course not, Albert. Give Jilly-bean a big hug for me.” She sighed, thinking of her eight-year-old granddaughter Jillian. “I wish I were going to be with you, though.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to grab them back. She could almost recite Albert’s response word-for-word.
“I keep telling you there’s all kinds of help for people who are afraid to fly.” His tone was light, but she knew he didn’t understand her phobia—how weak her knees got or how nauseous she felt at the mere thought of stepping into an airplane. Ever since she could remember, whenever she saw a plane overhead, she would imagine it falling out of the sky. The image was so real, she would actually see the mechanical bird begin to fall and would have to look away.
She and Albert had been planning to drive to Denver in two months to meet their new daughter-in-law and spend some time with the family. It would have been almost a year since they had seen Grant and Jillian. Of course, they had received copies of the wedding pictures and had spoken with the family on the phone, but it wasn’t the same as being together, watching Karissa with their son and granddaughter.
“Listen, Edna, I’ve gotta run. People are waiting for me. Dinner at some new steakhouse in town. Love you, Sweetheart.”
Before she had time to protest, Edna heard the line disconnect. Still thinking of Grant and Jillian, it was several minutes before she realized she hadn’t had a chance to tell Albert about Tom.
Once in bed, she felt depressed, worried about Tom and missing Albert. She hadn’t yet acclimated to the creaks and groans of her new house, and she wasn’t used to sleeping without her husband beside her. As a result, she spent a fitful night and awoke Friday morning feeling groggy. Only the thought of her appointments that morning prevented her from rolling over and going back to sleep.
The cleaning women would arrive at eight-thirty, and as of this morning, she had a weekly hair appointment at nine. Tuck had helped get her scheduled with both the Housekeeper Helpers and The Locks Shoppe. Ordinarily, the cleaners spent the whole of Friday at the Tucker estate, but when the Davieses moved to town, Tuck volunteered to give up three hours to them. Edna was grateful.
Also, since Tuck was a good customer of long standing at one of the more popular beauty salons in town—all cuts were money-back guaranteed, she had asked the manager to work Edna in at the same scheduled appointment time. This particular morning, they were meeting another of Tuck’s friends who was having her hair done at the salon. Until her retirement last year, Peppa had been a town librarian for almost forty years, and Tuck thought her two friends would hit it off. She said it might be fun if the three of them got together for brunch as a regular Friday morning activity.
Although appreciating Tuck’s efforts on her behalf, Edna knew it was in large part because of her recent widowhood that Helen Tucker wanted to keep busy and surround herself with people. While she was still new to the community, Edna didn’t mind Tuck’s managing her social schedule. Albert, who had graduated from the nearby University of Rhode Island, already knew many people in the area and spent most days on the golf course with his old cronies. So far, except for her art instructor and fellow classmates, Edna knew only the wives of Albert’s friends. Once she established herself, however, she would take care of her own social calendar.
Glancing at the clock, Edna was shocked to see how long she had been daydreaming. She would have to hurry if she were to dress and make coffee before the cleaners arrived. This week, as previously arranged, they were starting a half hour early because the owner, Beverly Lewis, had plans for the weekend. She had wanted to cancel, but Edna persuaded them to come for a couple of hours. She was hosting the bimonthly art class on Saturday afternoon and needed help getting the house ready.
The Housekeeper Helpers were on time, as usual, walking into the kitchen from the mudroom just as Edna finished rinsing out her coffee cup. Although pleasant enough, Beverly Lewis was a tough-looking woman in her late forties. Of medium height and somewhat overweight, she wore loose khaki slacks and a pink, short-sleeved overblouse that did nothing for her splotchy complexion. Junie Williams was large-boned, and at just shy of six feet, she was several inches taller than her boss. Edna thought the teenager would be more attractive if she stood up straight and tied her stringy brown hair back from her face.
According to what Tuck had confided to Edna, Beverly had moved to town last fall, advertising reliable housecleaning. She had hired a local girl to work for her and, rumor was, paid her well. Leslie Anne Williams, known as Junie practically from birth, had been fresh out of high school with no particular skills or ambitions. Her family had been delighted with the change in her, happy that Junie had discovered something she enjoyed.
Helen Tucker had also filled Edna in on Junie’s family. The Williamses, mostly fishermen, had lived in the area for several generations. They were a large, boisterous and popular family. Beverly had picked well. Thanks mostly to Junie’s family’s connections and referrals, Housekeeper Helpers had all the business they could handle. Of course, it boosted business considerably when Muriel Shaeffer, long-suffering housecleaner for several prominent people in the area, reti
red and moved to Florida last spring.
Housekeeper Helpers consisted of only the two women, although many people wondered why Beverly didn’t expand, since she had a page-long waiting list. When questioned, she always replied, “You want somethin’ done right, you gotta do it yerself.”
“Good morning,” Edna said, wiping her hands on a small towel. “I want to thank you again for postponing your plans for me. If it weren’t for my art class coming tomorrow …”
“A good customer like you, we’re always glad to help,” Beverly interrupted, putting down her pail and resting on a mop handle. “How’s your husband likin’ his trip?”
“Just fine, thank you.” Remembering something else Tuck had told her, Edna said, “I hear your brother is starting a handyman business in town.” She felt a pang of disloyalty for Tom but was glad Norm Wilkins would have competition.
“That’s right. If you have anything you need done around here, I can send him over.” Beverly put the mop aside and lifted the pail to fill it at the kitchen sink. “Shoes is a good worker,” she said over her shoulder.
“Shoes? I thought his name was David.”
For some reason, Beverly found this remark extremely funny. She laid one hand on the counter as she bent over with laughter. When she had finally caught her breath and straightened, she said, “Yeah, I forget some don’t know him by his nickname. Well, that’s a long story.” She paused and chuckled, shaking her head before going on. “I don’t mean to stand here jawin’ about my family while there’s work to do.” Her actions made Edna even more curious, and she made a mental note to ask Bev the story another time. Picking her pail up out of the sink, Beverly brayed out another laugh before saying, “We’d better get started, and you better go get your hair laundered.”
Edna couldn’t help smiling at the good-natured woman as she retrieved her tote bag from the front hall closet and left for her second appointment of the day. She drove the short distance to the middle of town and pulled into a little strip mall. Spotting an available space in front of The Locks Shoppe, she was getting out of her car when Tuck drove up and parked beside Edna’s dark blue Buick.
Murder by Yew Page 5
