Turning her thoughts from handymen to her husband, she felt her anxiety grow. Last month, Albert had tripped on their granite front stoop and fractured his knee cap. For the past few weeks, including the longest Thanksgiving weekend Edna had ever endured, he’d been wearing an immobilizer that extended from his ankle to the top of his leg. An active man, accustomed to being the physician instead of the patient, he had become increasingly bored and cranky since he’d been forced to sit with his leg raised and extended. She gave an inward sigh. “Catering to his needs has set me way behind in my holiday preparations. Suddenly, Christmas is less than a week away.” She added in what she hoped sounded more joking than serious, “If I don’t get him out from under my feet soon, one of us may not live that long.”
Chapter 2
Edna dropped off Mary and the groceries at her house with a promise to be back in two hours. They would be spending the afternoon baking a variety of Christmas desserts for both households. First though, Edna needed to make lunch for Albert. She also had to have a serious talk with him about his injury and recuperation.
The cloud cover had thickened since she’d driven off earlier that morning, and she thought again of her two youngest children flying home this season. It just won’t be fair if they don’t make it home this time, she thought. Her mind drifted back over the last three years and the events that had prevented Grant from visiting Rhode Island. First, his wife Michele had died in a tragic skiing accident. Two months later, he’d remarried, and his second wife had nearly died last fall during her pregnancy. Then, they’d had to cancel their travel plans this past summer. Edna had a foreboding about this season. If her son didn’t make it home … She shuddered, unable to complete the thought. As she drove around the circular, broken-shell driveway up to her front door, she pushed her unreasonable fears to the back of her mind and forced her attention on the two-story house with its weathered-gray shingles and country-blue trim.
After her husband sold his share in a medical clinic and retired, she and he spent considerable time searching for their ideal retirement home, driving from Rhode Island to South Carolina and back before finding this three-acre property in their own home state. Southern Rhode Island had everything the Davies enjoyed, from beaches to farms and woodlands. In nearby Kingston, the University of Rhode Island offered educational opportunities as well as plays and concerts, and the cultural wealth of Providence was less than an hour’s drive away—close enough to take in an occasional dinner and play or concert, but far enough so Albert wouldn’t be pestered by former patients stopping him on the streets to ask for “just an opinion, if you would, Doc.” Albert would never second-guess another physician’s diagnosis, even for someone he knew well and had treated for years.
Stepping out of the car, Edna studied the yew trees that stood sentry on either side of the front door’s granite stoop. With Albert laid up, their eldest son Matthew had promised to drive down from Providence to put up the outside decorations, but had yet to do so. The house looked bare and forlorn without its holiday lights. Five days to get ready for Christmas, she thought with a sinking feeling and another nervous glance at the darkening sky.
As soon as she entered the front hall, Benjamin appeared from the living room to greet her. Leaning down to give the ginger cat’s ears a scratch, she heard Albert call out.
“That you, Edna?”
“Yes, dear.” She wondered who else he thought might have walked into the house, but refrained from asking.
“Where’ve you been? What took so long?”
She sighed, dreading the talk she was about to initiate. The pending, potentially unhappy conversation had put her in what, to her, was an unusually depressed mood. She enjoyed the season from Thanksgiving through Christmas. Since her children had grown and three had families of their own, this was the time of year when they were most apt to be together. A jig-saw puzzle was always in progress, games appeared, and music and laughter filled the house. Her heart lifted at the memories.
Bringing her mind back to the obstacle most immediately before her, she removed her green loden coat and matching beret with hands and arms that seemed almost too heavy to raise as she pictured her husband sitting in his recliner, imprisoned by a full-leg cast. She would probably feel more sympathetic about his plight, if she weren’t so concerned about the amount of work yet to be done. She so wanted everything to be perfect for Grant’s second wife who would be visiting New England for the first time. Hanging her outer clothes in the closet, she stopped in front of the hall mirror to finger-comb her gray curls into place before entering the living room. She took a deep breath to quash the sudden annoyance that jangled her nerves.
Making matters worse, Albert had a sullen look on his face. The usual twinkle in his blue eyes had been rare since the accident. His normally neat, thick white hair, badly in need of a good cut, stood up in places and stuck out above his ears. Ordinarily, he looked this disheveled only when first getting out of bed after a restless and interrupted night.
“I’m so bored, I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“I know, dear,” she said, trying to keep her tone light and her own frustration in check. She bent to kiss his forehead before sitting in a chair at right angles to his. Benjamin jumped into her lap where he sat staring at Albert as Edna stroked the orange fur. Chuckling inwardly and taking courage from the cat’s protective stance, she began gradually, working up to her proposal.
“Thanksgiving wasn’t much fun this year, was it, sweetheart?” They both knew the question was rhetorical, Albert having been put in a brace and ordered to “sit and stay” the day before family and friends were to gather. Thank goodness Matthew and Irene had already assumed responsibility for the traditional turkey dinner this year or the holiday would have been a complete disaster. As it turned out, Edna and Albert were the only ones who missed out. House-bound with her invalid husband, she refused to cook an entire turkey for the two of them and, instead, had taken clam chowder out of the freezer to heat. It was difficult to remember a more dismal day.
Albert’s eyebrows drew together, his eyes narrowed and his chin lifted. Clearly, he was wondering what she was leading up to.
She bit back a smile. In more than forty years of marriage to this man, she hadn’t often had to manipulate him. “With Christmas just five days away and you still unable to move about, I see we have two choices.”
His eyebrows rose in silent question.
She went on. “I can sit here and keep you entertained, or I can get the house ready for us to celebrate Christmas with our children and grandchildren.” This time, she waited for him to reply as she gently stroked Benjamin’s back.
“What do you have to do?” he asked. The tone of his question along with the scowl on his face told her that he didn’t understand all that was required to prepare for a major family holiday.
“For one thing, there’s the house to clean,” she began.
He interrupted. “Housekeeper Helpers come every week. The house is clean enough.”
“Beds to make …”
He interjected again, “Beverly and Junie can do that when they come to clean.”
“I’ve got to locate a crib for the baby.” She ignored Albert, as she made a mental note to herself. On her to-do list, she’d forgotten to write down a bed for their youngest grandchild, fourteen-month-old Dean.
“Phooey. I remember when we used a dresser drawer for Matt, the time we visited my sister.” Typically, Albert thought he had all the answers. As usual, Edna would have to do what needed to be done without explaining the details to him.
“We need a Christmas tree, but I can’t put one up with you planted here in the middle of the room.”
When he glared without saying a word, she knew his mind was working furiously on that problem.
“I’ve baking to do,” she continued, hiding a smile of triumph and glancing up toward the ceiling. At once, she spotted a cobweb in the corner. She’d have to ask Beverly to run the broom around th
e edges of the ceiling and make certain to dust the chandeliers in the front hall and above the dining room table. Another mental note to add the request to her to-do list. Crib, cobwebs.
“I thought you and Mary were baking this afternoon. Isn’t that why you went to the store this morning?”
Plainly, he had no notion of the time it took to bake the variety of breads, cookies and puddings required by Christmas tradition. He’d miss his plum pudding with hard sauce if that weren’t on the menu.
“I’ve presents still to wrap and a few dozen cards to address.”
“I can help with the cards.”
This time, Edna couldn’t help but laugh aloud. “The post office would never be able to decipher your physician’s handwriting. The cards would either be marked as undeliverable or end up in some foreign country.”
“Okay, okay. Enough already,” Albert held up his hands in mock dismay, and his old familiar grin was back in place. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ve been selfish. I’ll sit quietly and read from now on.”
Obviously, he’d already forgotten about the tree. Edna shook her head, not daring to speak for a minute. “It’s not just that. I drive you to Providence once a week to have your knee x-rayed and see your doctor. Your next appointment is tomorrow morning and that means another day out of my schedule. If the storm hits and we get even half the snowfall they’re predicting, we could get stuck in the city.”
“What do you want me to do?” He knew her well enough by now to realize she had a plan.
“I’d like you to spend a few days with Diane.”
Thirty-nine-year-old Diane was Edna and Albert’s second child. She and her husband Roger lived with their fifteen-year-old son in Pawtucket, not far from the Blackstone Park Conservation District. Roger Junior, or “Buddy” as he was called, was an avid chess player and loved nothing better than to challenge his grandfather to a match. Whenever he visited his grandparents, Buddy carried his favorite chessboard with him and often persuaded Albert to play two games simultaneously.
Albert looked skeptical and opened his mouth to speak, but Edna hurried on. “If you stay with Diane, Roger and Buddy in Pawtucket, you’ll be much closer to the clinic, and she can take you to your appointments. Besides the fact that she’s a trained RN and works only part time, their downstairs study with its adjoining bathroom would make a perfect bedroom. You’d have privacy instead of sitting here in the middle of our living room. Best of all, Buddy’s home from school this week. You two can play chess. It’ll be good for your grandson to have you to himself. I know he’d love it, and you’ll have your own personal aide.”
She tried not to sound desperate in convincing Albert what fun it would be to spend time with the only one of their children who seemed to have been born with no sense of humor. Diane was kind and well-meaning, but tended to take life too seriously and to hover over her patients whenever she took occasional jobs in home health care. Ordinarily, it would drive Albert crazy to have someone always at his elbow, but in this case, it might be just the distraction he needed.
“I wanted to discuss this with you before calling Diane, but if you want a family Christmas this year, you must help me out. I need you to go where I won’t have to worry about you and I won’t have to spend my time taking care of your needs.”
He thought for a moment before he agreed, somewhat reluctantly, that she should call their daughter.
Half an hour later, arrangements had been made for Diane, husband Roger and son Buddy to come for supper that evening and take Albert home with them. As Edna had known, Diane was delighted to be asked to help and, typical of this nurturing daughter, eager to tend to her father’s every whim.
On the spur of the moment, Edna decided to phone Charlie Rogers and invite him to lunch the following day. She had met the police detective shortly after moving into the community when a friend’s house had been robbed of valuable antiques. Edna had discovered the break-in and her friend lying half-conscious in the entryway of her home. Charlie had been the officer assigned to the case. Not long afterwards, Edna had been the prime suspect in the death of her handyman, another incident that put her in almost daily contact with Charlie. Through the challenge of proving her innocence, she and he had developed a mutual liking and respect. She was pleased when he showed a romantic interest in her youngest and only unmarried child.
Better yet, she knew he had a few days off, his chief at the police department having insisted on Charlie using some of his built-up vacation time. Why he hadn’t gone skiing in Colorado with Starling was something between the two young people. Edna hoped it wasn’t because the relationship was cooling off. However, since he had time on his hands and she needed all the help she could get, she felt no compunction in bribing him to hang Christmas lights around the yew trees at the front door and along the eaves of the house. She was certain she could also talk him into helping her find a tree for the living room, once Albert and his recliner were out of the way. Thinking of inside decorations, she decided to ask Charlie, Mary and the neighbors from across the street for an evening of drinks, hors d’oeurves and tree trimming. It would mean adding another party to an already busy week, but having friends help decorate would be much more fun than doing the job by herself.
Having done as much as she could for the moment, she prepared lunch, removed a chicken casserole from the freezer for supper, checked to see she had enough salad ingredients and started a rosemary cheese loaf in her bread machine. Her mood brightened as she prepared lunch and anticipated dinner with one of her children.
Unbidden, her thoughts turned to another family as Mary’s words came back to her. “Kevin Lockhorn has moved to town … Tom Greene’s nephew.”
Tom Greene. Tom. His face and smile and memories of the gentleness of the big man came flooding back. In a short time, they’d become good friends. Sharing a similar sense of humor had helped. And then too quickly, he was gone.
She thought of the portrait she’d sketched of him shortly after his death and wondered if his family would like to have it. She might dig it out and lay it aside, in case. She didn’t know why she’d never offered it to Tom’s daughter or grandson. Perhaps, Edna thought, I haven’t been quite ready to part with it.
She shook her head to dispel sad memories and spent the next half hour sharing sandwiches and tea with Albert. By the time she headed next door, Benjamin was curled up on her husband’s lap, and both man and cat were nodding off for a nap.
Edna passed by Mary’s front door and proceeded to the back entrance where she noticed a bicycle leaning against the house. Since she was expected, Edna didn’t knock but walked into the hallway which led to the kitchen. She’d just opened her mouth to call out “Hello” when she heard a voice raised in anger.
“She’s ruining my life. I could kill her.”
Chapter 3
As soon as Edna stepped into her neighbor’s house, Hank came trotting in from the kitchen, tail wagging as he gave her a single welcoming bark. She was also greeted by a half-grown black cat who had been sleeping on a thick towel, folded atop the radiator that stood beneath the window next to the door. Ink Spot arched her back in a post-nap stretch and blinked curiously at Edna.
“Hello, Spot,” Edna said, giving the cat’s ears a scratch after first stroking Hank’s head.
Eight months ago, when Starling first heard the moniker Mary had pinned on the dainty feline, Edna’s daughter had been amused. “Leave it to you to give a dog’s name to a cat,” she’d said, cradling the newly-adopted kitten.
Mary had simply shrugged and grinned. “Spot doesn’t mind. She likes her name. Better than Inky.”
After that, nothing more was said about Spot’s name being the least inappropriate.
Now, on this cold blustery day, the cheerful greetings from Mary’s pets contrasted with the angry voice emanating from the other room. Apparently, Mary and her guest weren’t yet aware of her arrival, so Edna pushed the outer door shut firmly enough to make noise and took time to hang h
er coat on a nearby wooden peg before striding into the kitchen. Hank followed close behind, but Spot stayed where she was, obviously reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort of her bed.
“Hi, Edna,” Mary was leaning back against the counter at the opposite side of the room, holding a coffee mug in one hand and propping her elbow up with the other. “Come on in.”
Apparently, Mary had heard Edna, but not the young woman whose voice had carried into the back hall. She spun around, her mouth half opened as she was caught in the middle of an obvious rant. She’d been so engrossed in what she was saying, she hadn’t heard Edna’s attempt to forewarn of her entrance. Mary’s visitor was about Edna’s height, five feet five, and nearly fifty years younger. Edna guessed the stranger to be about twenty years old.
“Meet Bethany Marco.” Mary made the introduction and seemed relieved by the interruption. “She’s just been fired from her day job.”
Bethany, face mottled with unspent anger, was nonetheless able to look sheepish when she said, “Hello” in a much quieter voice than she’d used a minute ago. Her fiery blue eyes, olive-toned skin and long, dark hair made a lovely picture, despite her fury.
“Bethany, this is Edna Davies, my friend and neighbor.”
The woman’s discomfort turned to surprised delight at the introduction. “Oh, you’re Benjy’s owner. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Benjamin,” Edna corrected automatically, giving Mary a hard glare before smiling at Bethany. “I hope you’ve heard nice things.” And not about murders and mayhem, she thought. Edna was never certain how much Mary told others about the dodgy escapades the two of them had experienced in the year and a half they had lived next door to each other.
“Of course. Mary says you’re cool,” Bethany assured her.
Picking up on what Mary had said about the young woman’s plight, Edna looked at her with concern. “I’m sorry to hear you’ve lost your job. What is it you do?”
Murder by Christmas (Edna Davies mysteries) Page 2