“Well, sure,” Winnie said without hesitation.
“Really?” Jesse asked, stunned at the ease with which that had been accomplished.
“Well, yeah, Roy Lee’s mother went into a nursing home over by where his brother Hansen lives, and I haven’t seen her since the 4th of July picnic just before that. And Roy Lee’s brother, Averell’s wife ran off with a fellow who moved up to North Dakota to work in those oil fields up there, and I don’t guess she’s ever coming back. And then there was a lady at church whose husband packed a suitcase and just walked out, and she can’t even find him to get a divorce. It was a hell of a summer for people falling off the face of the earth.”
Jesse looked around the table to see if anyone else seemed inclined to jump in. They all smiled encouragingly and sat back waiting for her to take it from there.
“So,” Jesse said, wondering where to go with this, “uh, let’s see. The, uh, brother’s wife… has anyone seen her or talked to her since she left?”
“I haven’t.” Winnie shook her head emphatically. “She and I were never close, though. She was from Houston originally and didn’t seem to take to small towns much. Lived here ten years and was always going on about shopping in Houston and weekends in Galveston and the high rise office building in the downtown corridor…” Winnie paused to wave her hands in the air and roll her eyes. “…where she used to work. It got so I just wanted to puke every time I heard the word Houston. Hope she’s happy in whatever North Dakota metropolis she’s living in now.”
Winnie finished with a head waggle and another eye roll, which Jesse attributed to sarcasm, since everyone knows there is no metropolis in North Dakota. “So, has anyone else heard from her in the last year and a half?”
“Nobody I know of,” Winnie said and added another couple of fingers of bourbon to her glass. “She didn’t leave a lot of friends behind, I don’t think.”
“How about your mother-in-law? Is she still in the nursing home?”
“As far as I know. If she’d died, I’m sure Roy Lee would have said something.”
“Anyone talked to her, or seen her?”
“Well, I got the impression that she had some sort of a decline, and that having company agitated her so the doctor wanted people to just let her be. The boys visited her, I’m pretty sure, and maybe a few church ladies, though I’m not positive about that. Hansen lives south of here, over by the Arkansas border, so it’s a pretty good drive, and not one you’d take if you didn’t know where you were going, or if you’d be allowed in when you got there.”
“So, you haven’t seen or heard from her, either,” Jesse said.
“I guess not, strictly speaking, though I did ask about her. Roy Lee always said she was hanging in there, but there wasn’t much change. But surely you can’t think something happened to her. She’s a nice, harmless lady who’s got to be past eighty by now. You couldn’t… That would… Oh, my heavens.” Winnie drooped back in her chair and draped the back of her hand across her forehead. “I think I may faint… or throw up. I’m not sure which.”
Sophia scooted back her chair and stood, pointing to Jesse. “Keep her head back. I’ll go get a cool rag.”
With that, Sophia disappeared into the kitchen, and Jesse moved around to where Winnie was managing to keep her own head back just fine all by herself. The sound of slamming drawers came from inside while Jesse remained on guard, ready to take control should Winnie twitch.
“Winnie, can you hear me all right?” Connie asked softly.
“Yeah,” Winnie answered in a voice barely stronger than a whisper.
“Can you remember what your sister-in-law’s maiden name was?” Connie had taken a pen and an envelope from her purse and was poised to write down Winnie’s response.
Just then, Sophia returned with a wet washcloth folded lengthwise a couple of times, and everyone waited in silence as she draped it along the base of Winnie’s throat.
Winnie jumped. “Oh, that’s cold!”
Sophia laid a hand on each shoulder and gently pressed Winnie back against the chair. “Yes, it is, but it will keep you from throwing up. Now just relax, and don’t move for a few minutes.” As Sophia turned, she picked up the decanter and half-filled whiskey tumbler. “I’ll bring you a coke. It’ll settle your stomach.”
Jesse remained on guard while her mother made her way once more into the kitchen.
“Patsy McBride,” Winnie said while staring at the sky that was fading to shades of lavender and gray. “Patsy McBride-Rogers after she married Averell. One of those hyphenated names. Probably the way they do it in Houston. Like plain old Patsy Rogers wouldn’t be fancy enough.”
Caught up in her tale, Winnie tried to rise, but Jesse placed the flat of her palm on Winnie’s forehead to block her. Disgusted eyes gazed up at Jesse, who said, “Hey, you’re the one who put Sophia into maternal mode, now just suck it up and deal with it.”
“Here’s the coke.” Sophia sailed through the kitchen doorway, holding a fresh glass filled with a new, darker, bubbly liquid. “You can let her up now, dear. She’ll have to lift her head to drink this.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Camden.” Winnie straightened in her chair, took the drink from Sophia and downed half the glass. Sophia retrieved the washcloth, refolded it and replaced it on the back of Winnie’s neck, just under her collar.
“Keep that on there awhile longer,” she instructed, patting Winnie on the shoulder before returning to her seat next to Connie. “Now, what did I miss?”
“Averell’s wife was named Patsy McBride before they married, and changed it to McBride-Rogers after they married,” Winnie supplied.
“Really? Was she a professional?” Sophia asked.
“Well, Averell’s a carpenter, and she took messages at home and did some bookkeeping for him, but other than that, she didn’t work a day after they got married.”
“Hmmm.” Sophia frowned, then looked down and tapped the envelope Connie was taking notes on. “What is your mother-in-law’s name?”
“Martha Rogers.” Winnie watched Connie write down the response. When Connie raised her head and sucked in a breath before opening her mouth, Winnie added, “I think she’s a Dawson from over in Waggoner County, if I remember correctly. Anyway, that was the name on the headstones when we took her to decorate graves a few years back.”
“Does she have any family left other than her sons?” Sophia asked.
“I never met any, if she did. And the people she talked about, just seemed to be memories. Oh, Lord, I need to call Roy Lee’s brothers.” Winnie pushed herself up from the table and looked around in confusion. “Where’s…? Oh, goodness, I didn’t get my address book. And I don’t know their phone numbers. What am I…?”
Vivian rose and gathered Winnie’s flailing hands into her own. “I’m sure the sheriff can help you with that, dear. He’ll know how to get a hold of them, and he’s probably already talked to them, so don’t you concern yourself with that right now.”
“Does anybody know where I’m sleeping tonight?” Winnie asked. “I’m starting to get really tired.”
“It would be my privilege if you would stay here tonight, dear. Now, why don’t we move inside and put on a pot of coffee.” Over the top of Winnie’s head, Vivian made eye contact with Jesse. “I can’t be certain, but I believe I just saw the sheriff’s truck come through the gate down by the road.”
“Oh.” Momentarily caught off guard, Jesse stared back at her, then gathered herself. “Well, then I guess I’ll just go open a window in the library.” Without waiting for a response, Jesse moved that direction, talking as she went. “Since I’m sure that’s where they’ll be meeting, and some, uh, fresh air would be nice.”
“What an excellent idea, dear,” Vivian called after her. “Open it just a few inches, and then pull the drapes almost closed, but not quite.”
“I’ll get the coffee on,” Sophia said.
“Bring it into the library when it’s done, along with a pitcher of cream.
Cups are already in there.” Vivian began to guide Winnie into the house. “I’ll get Winnifryd settled into a wingback, I believe, after I’ve moved it just a little closer to the desk. Constance, dear, if you’ll follow along with us, I believe I can use your help.”
“All righty then,” Connie said, gathering up the daiquiri pitcher and the two glasses she could manage with her other hand. “Why do I feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on?” she asked no one in particular.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Winnie said as she disappeared into the kitchen, one hand still in Vivian’s grasp.
Sophia paused at the doorway, holding it open for Connie while checking behind her that the others were proceeding on. “I believe the roller coaster ride is about to start,” she said in a voice too hushed to carry. “Keep your wits about you, your head down, and remember to buckle up before the ride leaves the station.”
“What? Honestly, Sophia, you’re the one who usually makes sense,” Connie complained just as a loud knock at the front door brought everything to a halt.
Seconds later Jesse came running into the kitchen from the dining room. “Really, that man’s got to learn to drive slower!” she said, pausing at the table.
Sophia measured coffee into the filter already in place. “Did you get the window fixed?”
“Yes. Vivian and Winnie are arranging the furniture. They’ll have it done by the time you…” Jesse swung around to where Connie was putting the pitcher into the refrigerator, and pointed to her “…open the door for the sheriff and lead him into the library.”
Connie froze with the pitcher suspended in the air. “Me? Why me? Why not you? Not that I’m afraid of him. I mean, the man comes to my house for dinner, but what if I say something wrong? What if he asks me why I’m here? Why…”
Sophia started laughing.
Connie set the pitcher down on a shelf, closed the refrigerator and stood with her head hung. “I really suck at this, don’t I? Okay, I’m here…” She lifted her head and smiled, beamed actually, since her smiles always looked like her face was throwing a party and the world was invited. “I’m here because you’re my best friend, and you almost got killed this morning,” she said in triumph. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”
Coffee began to dribble, then spurt, then stream into the waiting pot, and the dark, heady scent filled the air.
“Oh, man I’d love a cup of that right now,” Jesse said. “Unfortunately, I have to be in position at the listening post before he gets settled in the library. Okay, you…” Again she turned to Connie. “If he asks, I’m taking a nap. I can be awakened if he needs me, but one of you two has to come get me.”
“Why would you take a nap now?” Connie asked.
“I’m not. I’m going to be outside the library window with Vivian, listening to the sheriff’s conversation with Winnie.”
“What if he catches you?” Connie’s normally alabaster skin turned even whiter, if that was possible, her sleek, black bob forming an ebony parenthesis against her pale cheeks.
“Just relax,” Jesse insisted. “We’ve done this before. You’re not getting lightheaded, are you? ’Cause you look like you just went three rounds with a vampire, and he won.”
“Jesse,” Sophia scolded, “you say the most awful things. You look fine, Connie. Don’t listen to her. Your dark hair really compliments your fair skin, and you’re a beautiful woman. I don’t know why Jesse talks the way she does sometimes.”
“Because she looks like she’s about to pass out,” Jesse said, “and I really need for her not to do that right now. The two of you have to keep things looking normal and keep the sheriff distracted if he starts to wonder what Vivian and I are doing.”
Connie closed her eyes and let her breath out in a sigh. The pounding at the door grew louder as Vivian came hurrying into the room wearing a pair of crepe-soled flats designed for stealth. “Okay, I’m here. Why isn’t someone getting the door?”
“That’s my job.” Connie took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “Where do we stay while he’s inside the library questioning Winnie?”
“The formal living room is right off the foyer. That might be a good place,” Vivian answered. “All right, is everybody ready?”
“I’ll bring the coffee in while you get the door,” Sophia said to Connie.
“Winnie’s waiting, and a stiff cup of coffee probably wouldn’t hurt her.” Vivian nodded to Jesse. “Battle stations everyone. Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jesse and Vivian stood shoulder to shoulder in the dark, backs pressed against the stone of the house, a giant rhododendron in front of them, hiding any footprints they might leave. Above their heads, two library windows had an opening of five inches at the bottom, just enough to allow the voices inside to carry into the cricket chirping of the evening, and to necessitate total silence from the two listening outside.
Inside, the draperies were pulled half closed over each window, for camouflage and to block the light that flowed out over the two heads lurking a foot and a half below the elevated row of windows.
“Some of the questions I’m about to ask you might be considered in poor taste under the circumstances, Mrs. Rogers, and I apologize for that.” Sheriff Tyler’s voice was clear and near. The crunch of leather and a slight squeak accompanying the shifting of his body signaled his location as the heavy, executive chair behind the desk and directly in front of the windows. Good for eavesdropping, bad for any whispers Jesse and Vivian might want to exchange.
“Is there anything you need before we begin?” he asked.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Winnie said. Bolstered by food and drink, she sounded stronger than she had since before the tornado swept down and tore apart her life.
For an instant, Jesse allowed herself to wonder what it must feel like to lose so much so quickly and in such a shocking fashion, then she shook the thought away. She didn’t want to know. No one would want to know such a thing if it wasn’t forced on them.
“Are you aware of anyone who would want to kill your ex-husband?”
“No,” Winnie shot back without hesitation. “He wasn’t perfect, but he was a good man. A kind man. And everyone I know liked him.”
“Did he have any problems with drugs, alcohol or gambling?”
“He wasn’t a man to pass up a beer when it was offered, but he wouldn’t even take aspirin for a headache, and I never knew him to gamble.”
“Not even Indian Bingo? Slot machines? Lottery?”
“No, not Roy Lee. People who buy lottery tickets always seem to have big dreams to go with it. Roy Lee wasn’t much of a dreamer.”
Jesse caught herself before her exclamation became an actual sound, but that didn’t stop her from being moved by Winnie’s understanding and acceptance of the man she had married. It also left Jesse wondering about her friend’s life with that same man.
As children, Winnie and Jesse had been close, but as adults they had gone their own way, living in different states, keeping in touch over the phone, growing and changing through the years. Jesse wanted so much for her friend to have been happy with the life she chose, but now she realized Winnie might have had her own secrets.
“And how about you, Mrs. Rogers, do you have dreams?” the sheriff asked in the deep, smooth voice that sometimes reminded Jesse of a snake slipping over a rock. Now was one of those times, and she pressed her back against the house to stop the shiver that wanted to crawl up her spine.
“I’m a simple woman, Sheriff,” Winnie said quietly. “I have a good life. It’s not perfect, but it’s good, and I’m grateful for that, because it might not have been. My mama died when I was very young, but I still have the daddy who raised me by himself. I have a job I like, most of the friends I’ve ever made, and I married the first man I ever loved. It didn’t work out in the end, and I never knew why. Now he’s dead, and I don’t know why that is, either. But it’s okay, because I still have a good life and I
’m still grateful.”
Jesse felt tears burning in her eyes and was stunned when she heard the sound of heavy hands slowly clapping followed by an equally heavy voice.
“That’s very impressive, Mrs. Rogers. Did you rehearse that?”
“Screw you, Sheriff,” Winnie snapped. “I don’t have the time or patience for games right now. So ask me what you brought me in here to ask. ’Cause I’ve seen things today no one should ever have to see, and I’ve got a burial to take care of.”
“Very well,” he answered in the same unhurried manner he had maintained from the beginning. “Did you kill your husband, Mrs. Rogers?”
“No,” Winnie answered, practically hurling the word at him.
“Do you know who did?”
“No.”
“And according to you, your ex-husband had no enemies. There was no one with a motive to kill him. He was an upright citizen and well-liked by everyone. Does that about cover it, Mrs. Rogers?”
“I don’t know who killed him,” Winnie insisted in a voice that sounded tired but calmer. “I don’t know who had a reason to. He was a good man, and I don’t know anybody who didn’t like him.”
“Then which one of his good friends do you think took him out fishing and shot him between the eyes, Mrs. Rogers?” the sheriff asked in the snake-on-a-rock voice that sent cold chills all the way to Jesse’s toes this time.
“Damn you!” Winnie shot back. “You can take your questions, and…”
“Because somebody did,” he insisted, cutting through her protests in a tone that was hushed. Sounding almost sad for what had come before, he repeated, “Someone did, Mrs. Rogers. And if it wasn’t an enemy, then it had to be a friend. Someone he trusted. Someone he let get face to face, up close. Someone he stood there for while they pulled out a gun and shot him. And Roy Lee looked right at them. He never turned away. He never tried to run. He just stood there.”
Murder Most Thorny (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 2) Page 16