“I don’t want you to think you have to take care of me, Nixy. You’re young, you have a job you love, and you already know we Six take care of each other.”
“Yes, and you do an excellent job of it, but I hope you won’t mind if I visit often. Houston is only about six hours away.”
“Unless you have a lead foot,” Shoar said from behind me, and I startled because I’d forgotten he was there, “But, Nixy, I need you to stay in town a few more days until I can wrap up loose ends.”
“Trudy, too, I imagine,” Sherry said.
“Trudy, too.”
I sighed and stood to face him. “Do you need Aunt Sherry’s statement right now?”
“Matter of fact, I need to get Trudy’s first. I can come back for Miz Sherry Mae’s statement later today.”
“Stay for dinner when you do,” Maise offered.
“Okay, then,” I said, “let’s reorganize. Sherry, you need to put that ice pack back on and rest. Maise can make tea, and Aster, I’m sure your lavender would help.”
“I’ll spray it all over the house, and I’ll smudge, too.”
“You ain’t burnin’ that stuff while I’m inside,” Fred grumped. “Me and Eleanor’ll help Dab with the still.”
“Great, but let’s get the kitchen in order first.”
Shoar cleared his throat. “I’m afraid not. I have the crime scene techs on standby right outside, and they’ll need the space.”
“I forgot about that. Can Maise make tea?”
“Tell you what. Brief me on where Hardy stood, what he touched, and I’ll have the team cover the areas Maise needs to use first. After that, give them an hour to wrap up.”
“That works,” Maise said. “Come along, Sherry. Let’s get you upstairs. Why, I’ll bet Aster has an herb that will help keep down the swelling and pain.”
“Comfrey,” Aster confirmed as she moved to Sherry’s other side. “Just the ticket for bumps and bruises and broken noggins.”
Left alone with Eric, I arched a brow. “Ready to debrief me?”
He smiled. “Watch it. You’re beginning to sound like Maise.”
“I could do worse.”
“I guess you could. Let’s go.”
He called in his team, and they stood by in the back hall as I gave Eric the rundown on where Bryan had stood, what he’d touched, and what I surmised he’d touched.
“I thought you didn’t see him,” Eric said at one point.
“I did when he went to the cupboard. Otherwise, I saw glimpses of him and tracked him by sound.”
Eric squeezed my hand. “You sorry you didn’t get to brain Hardy to kingdom come?”
“Yes and no. Prison is a better punishment.”
“That it is.”
• • •
WHILE THE CRIME SCENE TECHS WERE BUSY IN THE kitchen, I straightened the parlor and dining room, then cleaned the downstairs bathroom and gathered damp towels. I did everything possible to avoid thinking about the long-term ramifications of Sherry’s eye disease.
Sherry was right and wrong about my job. I had loved it, and if I got that promotion, I’d love it again. Love it more. But I’d also come to love Sherry, Eleanor, Fred, Aster, Dab, and Maise. They did look out for each other. They’d divided chores to suit their strengths. I knew now that they were light-years from senile, and that they were physically healthy overall.
They’d created a family of the heart, and I would put my own butt in a home before I put Sherry in one. She didn’t need it. She wouldn’t qualify.
And yet, as the Six aged, would they still be able to care for each other? Perhaps they’d do just as well as they did now. Mrs. Gilroy shone as an example of advanced-age independence. How she got normal household supplies, never mind that TV, was a mystery, but she did it. The Six could be as fortunate.
Or they could not be.
And what then?
The techs kindly told me they were leaving, and confirmed we could clean and restore the kitchen to our hearts’ content. Before the van left the gravel drive, Dab, Fred, and Eleanor swarmed inside, and we set to work righting the kitchen. The four of us wiped fingerprint dust from the counters and cabinet doors, swept and mopped the floor, and got the table and chairs back where they belonged. I shuddered when I spotted the bullet hole in the wall. The shot Hardy had fired missed shattering the window by no more than a foot.
“I’ll spackle that and repaint,” Fred declared, and darned if he didn’t pull the supplies out of his overalls and his walker tool belt.
I don’t know what came over me, but I giggled.
“What’s funny?” Fred barked.
“You. You’re a walking hardware store.”
“’Course I am. I’m Fix-It Fred.”
“I’ll bet you’ve got a tiny can of paint in that tool belt.”
He peered into a belt pocket. “Yep, I do. Wanna see it?”
This time I laughed and kept laughing until tears came.
“Here now, missy,” Fred grumbled. “We’ll have none of that.”
He clanked his walker nearer, dangled a large white handkerchief in my face. When I took it, he pulled out a chair and sat at the table.
“You saved Sherry,” he said quietly. “You should be proud.”
I met his eyes, hiccupping back another sob. “No, Fred. You saved her. The door to the basement didn’t make a sound when I opened it. If it had squeaked even a little, Hardy would have heard it and killed all of us.”
“Nah, Shoar had the kitchen under surveillance the whole time.”
“He did?”
“So did we. We was all in hunkered in the trees. Shoar wouldn’t share his binoculars, though. Dab had to hotfoot it back to the car for his.”
I sat back on my heels and stared. “You were all watching the house?”
“Sun was high enough, we could see right into the kitchen without the glare.” He paused. “’Course, we ain’t got no SWAT folks here. I guess you coulda been shot before Shoar got to you and the others.”
That bubbled a laugh out of me, which earned a full-fledged smile from Fred.
“Gotta get back to work. You wanna learn to spackle?”
“Why not?”
• • •
NEIGHBORS AND FRIENDS BEGAN COMING BY WITH trouble food, and I let the seniors deal with visitors. I didn’t want to talk about Bryan Hardy again until absolutely necessary. Like at his trial.
While trotting to and from the basement to run loads of laundry, I retrieved the basket Trudy wanted to buy. I phoned her to be sure she still wanted it. She was still at the police station, so the call went through, and she gave me her code to the back entrance of the inn so I could meet her in an hour. Then took the basket straight to my car parked out by the barn.
I couldn’t help but wonder how Sherry could possibly crochet and weave her baskets or braid these handles with her vision impaired. Yes, I’d looked up macular degeneration on my tablet. I hadn’t grasped all I’d read, but I wanted to go with her to her next appointment.
I stood near the chain-link fence, staring at the azalea bushes but not seeing them. My mind’s eye saw Sherry instead. The joy in her eyes, the animation in her gestures as she recited the Stanton family stories. She’d sparkled, and I wanted her to keep her spark. More, I wanted to see it. If that meant coming to Lilyvale every single weekend, so be it. I could always stay at the inn.
Meantime, I needed to fold the last load of towels, peek in on Sherry, and let the ladies know I was meeting Trudy.
As I turned, I heard, “Sissy!” from right behind me.
I’m sure my eyes bugged out as I whirled around because Mrs. Gilroy, who from all reports never came out of her house, stood at the chain-link fence.
“Hi, Mrs. Gilroy. You do know my name is Nixy, not Sissy.”
“Got your
attention, didn’t I? I called the cops when I saw that Hardy character show up this morning.”
“You have a phone? I don’t remember seeing one in your house.”
She gave me a duh look. “I have an iPhone.”
I blinked. “How did you get it?”
“I ordered it over the Internet, of course. Don’t you e-shop?”
“Apparently not as much as you do.”
“Anyway, it was the blue gloves that tipped me off that Hardy was up to no good. You be sure to tell that detective. If he wants to ask me questions, I’ll let him in.”
I had to grin. “First me, now Detective Shoar? Where will the madness end, Mrs. G?”
She shook her finger at me but her eyes twinkled. “Sassy. Just like your great-great-great-aunt Sissy. You deliver my message to the detective.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She toddled off across the yard, arms pumping. The woman was in scary-good shape. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d ordered gym equipment from the Internet. Who knew what she had stashed in the front bedroom I hadn’t seen.
And, come on. An iPhone? How had she gotten service activated without going to a store?
• • •
MY MEETING WITH TRUDY WAS SHORT. PARKED IN the near-vacant lot behind the inn, I punched Trudy’s code into the keypad and found her in the second en suite room the inn boasted. A large suitcase piled with clothes lay open on the bed.
“Hey, Nixy, thanks for coming,” she said as she handed me a twenty-dollar bill that had lain on the chest of drawers.
“After all that’s happened, I was concerned you wouldn’t want the basket. I’m glad you do.”
“This basket will be my best memory of Lilyvale.”
“Yours? I thought it was a gift for Jeanette.”
“I’m buying her something else.” She paused a beat. “Your aunt was a wonder today, wasn’t she? How is she doing?”
“She’ll be fine, and I hope you are, too.”
“I was frightened out of my wits, but your aunt gave me courage. Now I just want to be home, and with luck I’ll get to leave tomorrow.”
“Then good luck.”
I let myself out and started to go to my car, then realized I’d never picked up the photocopying. I didn’t remember if the office center had Sunday hours, but I noticed a few stores were open as I circled the square. With all the food that neighbors brought, Maise and Aster had dinner handled in spades, and I needed some time alone.
Sunglasses diffusing the midafternoon sun, I went up the alley, crossed to the next block, and passed a few closed stores. Most of the buildings in this stretch housed CPA and attorneys’ offices. I supposed Dinah’s was here. Bryan Hardy’s? Not any longer.
As I suspected, Gaskin’s was closed, but Vonnie’s antiques store was open, and she happened to be standing outside. She lit up when she saw me.
“Nixy, is Sherry Mae well? What an ordeal I heard you had this morning!”
“She’s got a small cut and a bump on her head, but she’s fine, thank you. How is your closeout sale going?”
“Better than I expected, but I imagine there will be items left over. Goodness, where is my head? I need to let Sherry Mae know our plans have changed. We need to be gone no later than the middle of May now. Our son-in-law is being deployed sooner than we understood, so we’ll stay with our daughter until our condo is ready.”
“You’re not buying a house?”
“We don’t want to fool with a yard and the maintenance. We’ve been spoiled living here.” She looked up at the building and sighed. “This is a wonderful building. I’m going to miss it and this town and most of all the people. In spite of all this recent trouble, we have far more good apples than bad here.”
“I’m sure you do,” I said.
“I just wish Sherry would use the building herself. I suppose the ladies do their folk art projects in the house, but Fred works in those sheds without heat or air-conditioning, and he’s not getting any younger.”
I agreed, but I’d never say it aloud. Fred seemed to be the touchiest of all the seniors about his age.
Vonnie’s husband called to her about a phone call. “Well, you tell Sherry Mae I said hi.”
“And I’ll let her know you need to vacate early.”
Surprisingly, she gave me a hug before she scurried inside. I stood a moment, looking in the window at a picked-over display of children’s toys, thinking about what she’d said. Thinking about the nice apartment upstairs and that huge workroom. Tech school students would jump at the chance to rent the apartment, and the workroom would be an amazing space for Fred to both fix things and store the finished items until the owners claimed them. But what could Sherry do with the rest of the space?
Chapter Twenty-five
DETECTIVE SHOAR SHOWED UP TO TAKE SHERRY’S statement and have dinner looking good in snug jeans, a white cotton shirt, and boots.
Before he began, though, he said he had a surprise for us.
He linked arms with Sherry and led us out back. I trooped out with the seniors, as puzzled as they were. When he headed past the barn to the cemetery, I was completely confounded, but Sherry’s smile grew wider.
Through the cemetery gate, he walked on to the section where the children were buried, and then I saw it. A white angel, wings intact.
“Goodness, Eric, when did you sneak that in here?” Sherry asked.
“I came through the back path,” he answered. “It’s smaller than your other angel, but that one will take a while to be repaired.”
“I don’t need the other one repaired, dear. I’d rather have yours.” She grabbed a handful of his shirt, pulled him down, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Eric.”
Back at the house, he was all business. He interviewed Sherry for thirty minutes, alone, with the parlor pocket doors closed. That seemed an excessive amount of time to me, but Sherry was probably asking him questions, too. I hoped he was also outlining the charges against Bryan. If he didn’t fill us in, Sherry would spill.
Eleanor had seated Shoar beside me at the foot of the table. We bumped elbows occasionally, but the proximity wasn’t uncomfortable.
“So, Detective,” Dab said, “I suppose Hardy isn’t cooperating.”
“He lawyered up, which we expected.”
“Is Dinah representing him?” Sherry asked.
“I don’t know who he called, but he’ll be tried in another county.”
“Too much prejudice against him here,” Maise said with a nod.
“I do believe his aunt Corina must be up in arms.”
“That or mortified half to death,” Aster added.
“No, Eleanor nailed it. She threatened the department with everything but Armageddon when we served the warrant to search the house and garage.”
“Woman like that, nose all up in the air, her nephew in jail, she’ll hightail it out of Lilyvale. Her pride won’t take stayin’ here.”
Slow smiles bloomed around the table, mine included. Mean? Probably, but justifiable. Bryan’s aunt was a piece of work.
“Did you find more evidence?” I asked in spite of myself.
“Enough. In fact, Dab, we found your father’s hand drill with his initials burned into the handle. I can’t return it to you for a while, but it’s safe.”
“I’ll be glad to have it back when the time comes.”
Sherry cocked her head, bangs falling over her left eye. The better to see Eric, I suspected. “You never did seriously suspect me of killing Ms. Elsman, did you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Out of academic curiosity,” I said, “why not?”
“The angle of the blow that caused Elsman’s head trauma and death indicated she was struck by someone taller or she was kneeling when struck. But I don’t make that official call.” He looked at Sherry.
“I’m sorry I had to put you through the uncertainty, but—”
“Pish,” Sherry said. “You had to do your job as you saw fit. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, we got to investigate like Jessica Fletcher.”
He groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
Maise soon brought out a chocolate cake Pauletta had delivered that afternoon. When we’d polished off our servings, Eric announced he had to leave, and Sherry suggested I walk him out.
He’d parked back by the barn, and given the rumors that had circulated about us, I figured the ladies would be at the kitchen window peering at us. I didn’t expect to see Mrs. Gilroy’s kitchen curtains twitch, then fully part and the window be thrown open. If there had been a wall handy, I’d have banged my head against it.
“So,” he said in that deep, dreamy drawl, “are you going back to Houston tomorrow?”
My gaze riveted on his. “Tomorrow? I thought you said you’d need me to stay a few days. Until you wrapped up loose ends.”
He shrugged and moved marginally closer. “They’re pretty well wrapped, but you could always stick around. Especially now that you know about Miz Sherry Mae’s eye problem.”
“I don’t know what I’d do here. I can’t see my art degree translating well to a small-town business.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m sure you’d find some way to use your skills if you get creative.” He stepped closer still and my pulse sped. “That’s what art is about, right? Creative thinking?”
My “Uh, I guess” sounded like a glug-gurgle.
He cupped my cheek. “Nixy, I want to kiss you good-bye.”
“You do?” I asked, but was thinking, Why not? If he was a lousy kisser, I’d know I wasn’t missing anything.
“Yeah. You have a problem with that?”
“Can’t think of one.”
This time, I stepped closer to him, my gaze going fuzzy as he bent closer.
And then music suddenly blared from Mrs. Gilroy’s house.
We both froze, listening. He got it before I did.
“Isn’t that song from The Little Mermaid?”
I closed my eyes, mortified as the chorus of “Kiss the Girl” played to the entire neighborhood.
Silver Six Crafting Mystery 01 - Basket Case Page 26