The women laughed, and Mary swiped the tears from beneath her eyes with the knuckle of a finger. “We’d better go. I hadn’t planned on staying this long. We just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Edna watched the tall redhead and the stocky black dog head for home before closing the door and returning to the kitchen. She was considering whether or not to pour herself another cup of tea when, from the window over the sink, she saw Charlie Rogers drive up. Inviting him in, she fetched another cup and set a plate of homemade cookies on the table between them.
“Shoes is singing like a canary, as they say in the movies,” Charlie said, after filling her in on the details of the arrests. “My guess is that Joel Tolkheim’s son will request an exhumation and autopsy when he learns about Dee’s arrest for murder. If it turns out that she killed her husband, too, it won’t diminish Junior’s grief, but at least the widow won’t be able to use the inheritance to pay for her lawyers.”
Setting her cup down, Edna said, “And will you look for Bobby O’Brien? He was Dee’s first husband, you know. There might be a forty-year-old unsolved death in Albuquerque as well, or else there’s a mighty fine mechanic working somewhere in Arizona. If he’s alive, I think he’ll want to know what’s happened.”
Charlie made a note on the small pad he’d pulled from his jacket pocket.
“She used yew to kill Tom, you know,” Edna said in a low voice, still trying to fathom what would drive a person to such evil.
“I know. We found bits of it in your canister. I had the lab compare what was in the tin with the sample I’d taken last Friday. They were different. The mix in the canisters contained ground up bits of evergreen needles and bark the lab boys identified as coming from a yew tree. I thought something was awfully fishy about your break-in Sunday night. Someone wanted you dead, too, and now we know who.”
Edna shivered at the thought. “Dee confessed everything to me about Tom, Bobby, the robberies, but it was Shoes who told me about Dee and him being here on Sunday. She probably knew he wouldn’t help her get into my house if she wanted to poison me.” She shuddered at the idea she might have unwittingly brewed someone a poisoned cup of tea—or had one herself. “It’s a very good thing you took those canisters, Charlie,” she said, feeling thankful indeed. “Will there be a trial? Will I have to testify?”
“Don’t worry about it right now. I’ll let you know. Oh, by the way,” he said, putting the notebook and pen back into his pocket, “we found Tom’s appointment book in Dee’s house in a bookcase. Her name was penned in for Thursday afternoon, just as you suspected.” He drank the last of his tea in one quick gulp and pushed himself up from the table. “I’d better get back to work.”
“Work? I thought you were done for the day. Aren’t you going home?” She walked him to the door.
“Naw, too much paperwork left to do. I want to get a head start on it tonight.”
Edna saw her chance. “What about your family? Doesn’t your wife object to your working such long hours?” Starling, you owe me for this, she thought, smiling at Charlie.
“She probably would, if I had one.” He stepped out onto the granite stoop and half turned, hesitating before looking into her eyes. His grin was boyish, almost shy. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to give your daughter a call sometime.”
“It would be fine with me, and I have a feeling she’d like that, too.” Edna waved in response to his upraised hand. As she closed the door on the detective’s retreating back, the phone rang. It was Albert.
“Sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re home. Listen, Honey, could you come to Colorado right away? Karissa’s in the hospital, Grant’s in the middle of what he calls a software conversion, whatever that is, and someone’s got to take care of Jillybean. Is there any chance you could get a bus out tonight?”
Edna’s head reeled at the unexpected request. “What’s the matter with Karissa?”
“She may lose the baby. At this point, we’re afraid we might lose her, too. Sweetheart, I’ve missed you so much. Will you come?”
Her heart warmed with his words, but at the same time she was thinking, can I do it? Can I fly?
“Edna? Sweetheart?” He was waiting for her answer.
“Of course. I’ll call the travel agent as soon as we hang up and call you back with the details.” Even as she said it, her spine tingled at the thought, but she would make herself get on the plane.
“That’s great, Honey. I can’t wait to see you. I’ll tell you all about it when you get here, but you’re not going to believe what I’ve been through these last few days.”
Edna’s eyebrows went up as she gently put down the phone.
Acknowledgments
I wish to thank Captain Glenn Browning, retired, of the Narragansett Police Department, for patiently answering my questions. Any liberties I’ve taken with police procedures were strictly for the story line.
I wish also to thank my first readers, Dianne Souza, Jim Coleman, Olivia Coleman, Lynne Duesenberg and Wes Cavanaugh, for their comments, corrections and insights.
My gratitude goes to Sandi Marsh for her work on my web site.
Sincere thanks and appreciation to friends and family for their continuous support and encouragement.
Last, but certainly not least, I am indebted to my critique group for sharing their expertise and advice, without which this story would not yet have surfaced.
Meet Suzanne Young
Born and raised in Rhode Island, Suzanne Young has worked as a writer, an editor and a computer programmer since earning her degree in English from URI in Kingston.
Among her publishing credits is the first chapter in Police Accountability (Lexington Books, 1978), chronicling the evolution of police performance measures in the U.S.
A resident of Colorado for more than 30 years, Suzanne works full time in software development and writes fiction in her spare time.
A member of Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers and Sisters in Crime, she is also a graduate of the Arvada (CO) Citizens Police Academy.
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