I did know. Then the unforeseen and unforgiven had happened. The following spring, Virgie Woods drove up to flooding McDonald Creek and jumped off a bridge to purify the sin she couldn’t live with. Her body was found three miles downstream. Theo adored his grandmother and held her suicide against us.
Mel’s words had then became almost proud, “The Coopers were the opposite. Grandma Wilma whacked Grandpa Earl upside the head with a frying pan and told him to straighten the hell up. He did, and they continued their marriage, bearing the humiliation with dignity by working the lumber yard and helping their grandchildren the best way they could.”
I sighed, knowing the scandal had never been truly buried, not in the opinion of the town nor in Theo’s mind. Now, Theo would just love to imprison me for what our grandparents had done, not for any crime I’d committed. He couldn’t care less about Edgy or those who loved her. Even after all these years, his attitude was pure revenge against those he blamed for his grandmother’s death.
A car door slamming out front drew me away from my grief and my memories of Mel’s voice and his pain. I was relieved to walk around the side of the house to see who was there.
I smelled English Leather cologne before I saw Detective Langnecker standing on the porch with a folder in his hand.
One sight of the detective, and I sank right back into disgust. I removed my gloves. “Hello,” I said, none too friendly. I suspected that the freshness of his attire was for Marley, in case she was around.
“Sorry to interrupt your gardening. I only have a few more questions and need this statement signed. May we go inside?”
“That was quick. I didn’t expect you until later this afternoon.”
He tattled on himself with a grin. “Office gal helped, or I’d still be transcribing it.”
“Wait right here. I need to go through the kitchen to unlock the door.” I turned and walked away, glad to have a moment to gather my composure. I probably showed the effects of internal weeping. Silent mourning has a way of showing itself. Mine did with a tightness around my mouth I couldn’t relax, and I’m sure sadness claimed my eyes. I had no pep as I trudged around the house.
In the kitchen, I removed the straw hat and splashed water on my face and dried it with a dish towel.
Nothing for it but to do it.
I opened the front door and invited the inquisitor inside just as Marley ran down the stairway.
Detective Langnecker did a double take as her feet skidded on the floor. She grabbed the newel post to keep her balance. Her chestnut ponytail hung out of the back of a bright pink ball cap. Her tank top and running shorts matched. She smiled at the detective. “I hope you have only a couple of unnecessary questions for my mother. You have to know she wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
He smiled at her ridicule. “Just need to visit for a moment or two.”
“Marley,” I said, “go for your run. I can manage without you.”
She paused for a minute. “See you in an hour.” She ran out the front door.
I led the way into the living room. Detective Langnecker crossed immediately to the couch and spread out his folder on the coffee table. I sat in a chair—the same one where I’d kept watch over Mel. The detective handed me a copy of my statement.
“Please,” he said, “read through it before you add your signature. We need to make sure it’s right.”
“Before we start, may I ask you a question?”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Is Theo Wood your superior?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
I folded my hands, looked him straight on, and said in a firm, clear voice, “My husband’s family owned Cooper Lumber Yard and we lost a warehouse to a fire. Detective Wood was dead set on blaming Mel’s father for setting the fire for the insurance money. He gave us lots of grief before the fire marshal concluded the fire was caused by a couple of homeless men building a fire to stay warm.”
“I see.”
“Mel believed the stress over Theo Wood’s accusation was the final straw that caused his father’s heart attack.” Again, I didn’t tell the detective what Mel had really thought. I shut away my guilt and asked, “Do I have a choice whether he can interview me or not?”
“Not really, but I’ll mention it to my commander.”
“I noticed you let him do all the questioning after he came in the room, and I sensed a tension between you two. I can understand that. He’s a blustering fool.”
Detective Langnecker didn’t respond, but I had said my piece and turned to the statement he’d handed me. As I read, I realized I hadn’t told him about Sid Nelson. “Did the sheriff tell you about the injury on the side of Edgy’s head?”
“You tell me.”
“We were at the Blue Moon last Friday, and she got into a game of eight-ball with a guy named Sid Nelson. She won fifty dollars from him. Of course, she rubbed it in a little bit, making him angry. When she stood up to leave, he threw a pool ball at a guy he was arguing with, but I think he really aimed it at her. It hit her right here.” I touched a spot above my right ear. “She just crumpled to the floor.” I shivered at the memory.
“What happened after that?”
“The bartender called nine-one-one, and, according to a man in the crowd, Sid Nelson left before the patrol car got there. I took her to the emergency room for stitches.”
“So, how does this relate to Mrs. Brewster falling down the hill?”
“I don’t know, but he was very angry.”
“Was Mr. Nelson at Millie’s?”
“I didn’t see him. I’m just trying to figure out who would want to hurt Edgy.”
Langnecker sat quietly as if he was mentally filing away what I had said. “I can tell you, the preliminary report says she had deep bruising on her upper arms like someone had been squeezing them very hard. What can you tell me about her relationship with her husband?”
“Fred was very good to her.” My stomach lurched at talking about her in the past tense.
“Was he ever physically abusive to her?”
“Never. He loved her with patience personified. I saw you last night at his place when the deputy brought me home.”
“I was informing him of his wife’s death.”
“You haven’t interviewed him yet?” I figured Detective Langnecker was putting up with counter questions to allow me to say something I didn’t mean to.
“I stopped by his house before coming here, but he wasn’t home. Do you know where he is?”
“He told me yesterday he was leaving for a bit, and I asked where to. He said he didn’t know.”
“I hate to put out a contact order on him. If you hear from him, tell him to get in touch with me ASAP. I left my number on his answering machine.”
I nodded.
“Anyone else you know who might have a grudge against Mrs. Brewster?”
“Please, that sounds so formal. She loved to be called Edgy. Said it fit how she feels.”
“I didn’t get a chance to ask you earlier, but I am assuming you and Edgy were very close?”
“Friends for years.”
“Know of any of her other friends or relatives?”
“Edgy was loved by lots of people.” I suddenly stopped speaking.
“Yes?”
“A neighbor across the alley gave her a really hard time.”
“Who is he? Or she?”
“Lester Fitch. A real creepo. We saw him at the big church on the hill sitting with a woman who wasn’t his wife. They were cuddling pretty close. Edgy threw a fit about his philandering in church. She didn’t confront him, but he scowled at her on the way out. Made me nervous.”
The detective jotted a few notes and looked at me. “Anything else?”
“One more thing about Lester. On the day before we went to Millie’s, he and Edgy got into a big yelling match on the sidewalk near her place. I hurried over and told them to stop. Edgy was fighting mad, but I managed to lead her home. She was really shaken, and
I figured she might change her mind about going to play bingo, but she insisted.” I didn’t tell him about the pills she had swallowed.
Detective Langnecker didn’t comment, just appeared to be considering what I had told him. He finally said, “Do you know if she had any health issues?”
“Just the normal ones related to growing older. She complained about arthritis in her knees and back.”
“Did she take medication for it?”
“Yes.” I paused. “You know, the normal anti-inflammatories.” I shook my head as her words rang in my thoughts. I had seen her pop some pills after the fight with Lester. I wouldn’t betray her.
“Do you know if she was taking opioids for pain management?”
His question disturbed me. I wanted to instantly deny that for Edgy. “Not that I know of.” My voice trembled. I couldn’t help it. To cover over my lie, I said. “I think Sid Nelson and Dean Hyatt should be—oh, what’s it called—persons of interest.” I had answered my own question.
“The tox screen or lab reports aren’t in yet, but we’re trying to lay the groundwork as quickly as possible while folks’ memories are still sharp about what happened. In fact, I learned from a couple of the bingo players that they overheard you and Edgy arguing. Tell me about it.”
“She got annoyed at my fidgeting, and I told her to quit worrying about it.”
“Were you uncomfortable?”
“More like bored. I went because she wanted to.” Not a lie.
Detective Langnecker studied the statement for a moment. “I’ll probably have to talk to you again after we receive the official cause of death and tox report.” He turned the paper so I could sign it.
After he left, I sat down on the window seat in a silent uproar. Had I said too much or not enough? I clutched my hands across my mouth, holding back a scream. I was probably the main suspect in Edgy’s death.
I couldn’t call it murder, not yet.
Chapter 12
T hursday morning, Marley slouched in front of the kitchen sink, rinsing spots of egg yolk from our breakfast dishes. She sighed and muttered, “Mom, it’s been five days and we still haven’t heard from Fred or the cops. How are we supposed to know when Edgy’s body will be released? She needs to be put to rest, and we need closure. This waiting is killing me. We’ve got to get on with life.” I could almost hear her stamp her foot like she had as an adolescent.
I placed the last of the leftover hash browns and sausage in the refrigerator and gave her my full attention. “Where did that come from? We’ve haven’t exactly been sitting around. Remember painting the lawn furniture?”
She turned her lips down in a pure Marley pout. “Don’t tell me it was fun when we washed the outside windows.”
“I’ll give you that.” I placed the butter dish in the cupboard by the toaster.
“We need some fun.”
I teased her. “Ya think?”
“You should go with Randal to card club tonight.”
“I haven’t even thought about going.”
“You don’t get it,” Marley added. “If you go do something, I’ll feel like I can, too. I’m tired to death of this quiet, sad house. Fred still isn’t home. Edgy’s remains are waiting in the damned mortuary. I feel like there is no end to it.”
I blessed my daughter with a long and pointed look.
“Oh, stop with the mom look. You know I need a night on the town so I can whoop and howl.” When I didn’t comment, she added, “I’m not asking permission.”
“I’m not, either.”
Marley raised her eyebrows. “And where are you going?”
“You just convinced me to go with Randel to play cards so we can shuffle and deal.”
“Am I getting on your nerves?” Marley’s question came across with sadness as she wiped her hands on a towel by the sink.
“I’m going to tell you like I told Patrick. I’m okay, and you kids need to do your own thing. All I ask is for both of you to be at Edgy’s funeral.”
“When? A month of Sundays from now?”
I lifted my hands and shrugged. “Fred is supposed to let us know.”
“How can he just leave us hanging like this?”
“Don’t know that either.” I could almost see Marley trying to put some order into the limbo of not knowing where and when.
“The detective hasn’t been in touch, either.” Her bottom lip turned downward on her pouty face, reminding me of her as a gangly girl.
“I hope I never see him again.”
Marley smirked. “Aw, come on. He’s a hottie, or should I say hunk for your generation?”
Before I could come back with sass, Marley scooted up the stairs, calling down, “I’m changing. See you tomorrow.” Her head reappeared. “Don’t worry. I ran into my old classmates, Sue and Scot. I’ll be with them. Can’t believe they stayed married all this time.” She disappeared again, to my relief.
The cell pinged with a message from Randal asking if I planned to play cards tonight or should he find a sub. I texted back that I was going and received a happy face emoji in return. My mood lightened a bit as I walked into the living room, grabbed a new Grisham novel, and settled into the cushions on the window seat. I scrunched around a few times to read in the good light.
I had read only one sentence when an odd thought crossed my mind. Maybe Randal would prefer a sub? Not that I knew who it could be. It’s crazy, but a little jealousy poked me. Maybe I should text him back, say I had changed my mind and wasn’t going.
I set the impulse aside as juvenile.
An hour later, Randal’s red Corvette was waiting at the curb when I checked through the window. I grabbed my purse and house keys. The weather had cooled, so I draped a cotton cardigan over my arm.
After Randal watched me wiggle and turn and finally squirm into the low passenger seat, his lips curled into a pleased smile as I tucked the dress back down and tried to smooth it to be modest with just a little knee showing. He asked, “Are you scared to ride with me? I promise no accidents this time.”
I granted him a sideways glance. “I’m not afraid.”
His grin widened. “Atta girl.” He pressed the pedal to hear the power of the Corvette engine, then shifted into drive. The car slipped onto the street like melted butter.
A truck sat in Edgy’s driveway as we drove by. “Fred’s home!”
Randal jerked, startled. “He’s been gone?”
“Now we can finally lay Edgy to rest. I hate not knowing where or when. I need her placed somewhere, whether scattered or buried.”
Randal fidgeted around like he was seeking a more comfortable position. “Maybe he’ll know something from the cops about how and why she died.”
How could Randal be so dense? “We know how she died. She fell down a hill and injured her neck. Just don’t know why. The bruising on her arms. Pushed or not pushed is the mystery.”
“Sounds pretty suspicious to me,” he said as the Corvette powered onto Highway 93 North.
“I hope Fred has the good sense to bury her, like I did Mel. I’d hate the thought of her scattered to the wind.”
“I still feel bad about missing his funeral.”
“I understood. Nicole had to keep her appointment at the Mayo Clinic.”
“You visit his grave often?”
Odd question, but I answered, “Only on Memorial Day. Going more often brings too much sadness.” I didn’t talk about how a mixture of feelings still plagued me.
Randal looked over at me. “It’s been three years. Time to live a little.”
I didn’t like where the conversation seemed to be headed and changed the subject with the first thing that popped into my brain. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that nice young logger who gave me a ride to town after the moose wreck. He told me you’ve been a family friend for years.”
Randal’s profile tightened.
“Now what did I say wrong?” I asked.
He shook his head as if to clear his mind. “Cori
nne, you’ve said nothing wrong. I was just thinking back. I’ve known the family for a long time. I used to work with his grandfather.”
Clean-cut, business-like Randal had been a logger? In disbelief, I asked, “You sawed timber?” I couldn’t put the images together.
“No, I ran the skidder and drove a log truck. Not very long, though. Decided to see the world and joined the Navy. Spent those years on a sub and in ports all over the Orient.”
“You went from the high forests to underwater?” How could I have known Randal all these years and not know this? “So, what other secrets beside your sister living up there do you keep?”
He leaned a little, his elbow on the armrest between us, and drove one-handed. He seemed very much at ease with the power of his car. “I’m glad you came tonight. Missed your nosiness.”
I drew up in mock dismay. “I’m not overly curious.”
He laughed. “Depends on who you ask.”
I laughed too and was glad we were back riding together and enjoying each other’s company. But he had very skillfully avoided my question about his secrets, and he never gave me a chance to ask about his sister. And he had known Edgy, I reminded myself.
The memory of a sports car going down the hill flashed through my mind. I had only seen it for a moment, but I was sure it had been much like the car I was riding in.
I rubbed the soft spot in the nape of my neck. I’d been doing that a lot lately and hoped I didn’t have vertebras out of line.
Friday already. Where had the week gone? I busied myself making the first pot of coffee. The front doorbell jangled. I glanced at the clock on the stove. Only seven thirty. Thank heavens, I had put on sweats instead of my old robe.
Fred stood slumped against the door jamb in an easy stance, the one he used in his kitchen when he was stirring his oregano-laced concoctions—but today he was grim. He handed me the newspaper.
“Fred, please come in.”
He shook his head. “I just spent the night answering questions at the Sheriff’s Office and need to get some sleep.” The scowl across his forehead deepened. “I seem to be their A-number-one suspect. Of course, blame the husband. It’s the easy way out.”
Blame the Car Ride Page 10