by Anna Drake
After reaching her place, I exited my car and hurried up the path to her house. Laura was a charming woman, probably somewhere in her middle forties. She mostly wore a happy smile and always had a ready hand. “Please, come in,” she now said. She swung the door wide. “I have fresh coffee and Toby’s here. We need to discuss some knitting club business.”
She ushered me into the kitchen, where Toby Spires was already seated. She was a large, muscular woman, with kinky, steel-gray hair. She often seemed to be as sour in outlook as Laura was cheerful.
I wished Toby a good morning. In return she gave me a low grunt. Her muscular arms were folded across her wide chest. She looked about as welcoming as a pit bull at a doberman convention.
“Go ahead,” Laura told me. “Take a seat.”
I did as instructed. “So what’s up?”
Toby huffed and announced. “We’ve got a rogue member. She’s trying to take over the club.”
“That's not quite correct,” Laura countered. “It’s just that she wants us to change our meeting dates.”
Toby’s face flushed. A small vein at her neck visibly throbbed. “Can you imagine that woman’s nerve? She’s been a member all of two months. Now, she wants to turn the club on its ear.”
I glanced at Laura. “What’s her proposal?”
“She’s asked us to shift our meetings from Monday afternoons to Saturdays.”
Currently, our group met twice monthly on the first and third Mondays.
I cleared my throat. “That doesn’t sound too extreme. Most of our members are either retired or are stay-at-home moms. I would think a change is possible without causing too much distress.”
Toby raised her chin. “I can tell you it’s a big deal to me. I’m pretty sure most of the other members will feel the same way.”
I smiled at her. “Then, I doubt the proposal will be successful.”
Toby snorted. “Well, of course not. We are what we are, and I, for one, am proud of it. We’re not about to change just because she makes some kind of silly suggestion.”
Laura chuckled. “Now Toby, not everyone sees this issue quite the same way you do.”
She snorted. “I suspect there’ll be enough who do that we’ll defeat the plan.”
I glanced at Laura. “Who’s put this proposal forward?”
“Her name is Valerie Jarrett. You’ve met her. She came she’s been to at least three sessions. Other than stirring up this hornet’s nest, she seems like she’ll make a pretty decent member.”
“Hogwash,” Toby thundered. “She’s nothing but a troublemaker.”
Laura set my coffee before me and shook her head. “Valerie used to work full time. She says by meeting on Mondays we’re not being fair to local working women.”
“Oh.” I glanced down and studied my coffee.I couldn’t deny she had a point. “What do you want me to do?” I wasn’t an officer in the club.
Laura sat and folded her hands together on the table. “Hetty, I’d like you to meet with Valerie. Feel her out. See if you and she can work out a compromise.”
“Why would she listen to me?”
“Because I think you’ll give her a fair hearing.” She glanced at Toby. “That’s not something I think many others in our club are ready to do.” She returned her attention to me. “Truthfully, I’m terrified of this coming up for a vote at one of our sessions. I fear it might tear the membership in two.”
She place a hand on mine. ”I’m hoping you’ll come up with a solution that can avoid that.”
I gulped. No pressure here. I cleared my throat. “I think you’re giving me too much credit. Besides, I’m new a member, too. No one’s going to want to do anything I suggest.”
“No, I don’t think our members are that stubborn. If you find a way to work out a compromise, I think they’ll support you.”
“Over my dead body,” Toby snapped, her patience apparently shredded. She bounded from her chair. “Now, if you two will excuse me, I have real work to do.”
And experiencing some serious angst, I watched her storm out the back door.
Laura drew in a deep breath. “It’ll be okay. You’ll deliver us from this mess. I just know it. Please say that you’ll lend us a hand..”
I picked up my coffee mug and blew across its rim. I knew if I had any sense I’d run away from taking this on. So I was startled when I heard myself say, “Sure. I’ll give it a try.”
Laura released a small sigh. “Thank you. I knew deep down that you would.” She took up her coffee mug and shifted gears. “I hear you had some excitement in your neighborhood today.”
I paused with my cup halfway to my lips. “How in the world did you hear about that?”
“I have a friend who lives over your way. She saw all the cop cars when she was driving home from the grocery store.”
I frowned. Few things could be successfully hidden in small towns. “Yes, there was a bit of trouble. Actually, it was quite dreadful, really.”
“What happened?”
So I explained about Ellen and the mummy in her attic.
Laura’s eyes expanded. “A mummy? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“You’re not alone on that score. Did you by any chance know the McNays?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “Now, there’s an interesting pair.”
I swallowed a smile. “How so?”
“Their names are Fred and Hazel McNay. They’d lived here all their lives when the suddenly decided to move away. Fred was a UPS driver. Hazel worked as a cashier over at the West Side Grocery Store. I was stunned to learn the McNays were selling out and leaving. But Fred had a heart attack two years ago, and Hazel insisted she wanted to live nearer their daughter.”
That sounded like a familiar tale. “Where did they go?”
“Their daughter lives in Columbus, Ohio.”
“Did they ever have a woman, of say around thirty-five, living with them?” Of course, I wasn’t certain of the corpse’s age, but from what I could saw in the attic, it seemed a good guess.
Laura looked at me questioningly. “I can’t remember anyone ever living with them. Why?”
“What about their house? Who owned it before they did?”
“Now that is interesting,” Laura said, apparently warming again to her story. “They downsized to that place only about five years ago. Before then, they’d owned a large house on Elton Street. It was Gerald and Bertie Lawry who originally owned house.”
“What were they like?”
“Nothing special. He was a dentist. She had a job in the courthouse.
Five years wasn’t a long time. It was possible the McNays hadn’t known about the corpse in the attic. “Do you think the Lawrys are the murderous type?”
She laughed. “Seriously, I doubt it. But if they can be run to ground, they may have some interesting information to share. Keep in mind they left Hendricksville more than five years ago. Their trail might be more than a little cold.”
“Surely someone knows where they went?”
Laura nodded, her eyes large. “Oh, I’m sure someone does. But I don’t. Plus, they were elderly when they moved. They could be dead by now.”
It was a sad fact of life that I tried not to dwell on often. The elderly had a bad habit of becoming the deceased.
I rose. It was time to head home, but that thought was put on hold when a young woman came rushing into the house. She looked to be in her very early twenties and was in obvious distress. Without even casting a glance in my direction, she looked to Laura and howled, “It’s never going to work.”
I glanced from her to Laura to see if I should be concerned.
“Nonsense,” Laura said, smiling. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see.” Turning to me, she added, “Becky, I’d like you to meet Hetty Fox. She’s a fellow knitter and a handy woman to know.”
The young woman’s jaw dropped as she realized that she wasn’t the only guest in Laura’s living room. “I’m so sorry,” she said, with a pret
ty blush making its way across her round cheeks.
Laura turned my way. “Hetty, this is my cousin, Becky King.
The girl stuck out a hand. “Mrs. Fox, it’s very nice to meet you.”
I smiled and echoed the sentiment. Her face was broad, her features plain, but she had very kind eyes. “Call me Hetty, please.”
She nodded. “Will do,”
I glanced back at Laura. “I’d better be going.”
“Thanks for taking on this knitting group thing.”
“I only hope I won’t let you down.”
Laura smiled reassuringly. “You’re a very smart lady. I have every confidence in you.”
I nodded my farewells and left the two women there to sort out whatever problem was so troubling Becky.
CHAPTER THREE
The next few days passed in a blur of frustration. Valerie Hicks, I learned, was out of town. My efforts to negotiate a settlement in the knitting dispute had to be placed on hold temporarily. Andrew continued to sulk over my refusal to pursue this latest murder. Even dear Blackie seemed out of sorts. So when my phone rang one late afternoon, a few days later, I answered the call with foreboding in my heart.
It was my daughter, Megan Langdon. “Can you come over?” she whispered.
Hearing concern underpinning that short statement, my heart instantly leaped into overdrive. “What’s wrong?” I demanded.
“That mummy you found? She was Damon’s aunt.”
“Who?”
“She is… ah… she was his Aunt Eva.”
I frowned. “I’ve never heard Damon mention anyone called an Aunt Eva.”
“They weren’t close. But the police are here. Poor Damon’s being grilled.” There was pure terror in her words.
“I‘ll be right there.”
I’d never much cared for my son-in-law. He was a little too reserved for my tastes, a little too impressed with himself, too. But he was my grandsons’ father, which sent me scurrying.
After hanging up, I rushed through the house. I tracked down my car keys, ran a quick comb through my hair, and dashed to the garage. By the time I slid into the car, I was panting, and a thin film of perspiration had broken out on my face. After firing up the ignition, I threw the transmission into reverse and backed my car out of the garage. My tires didn’t exactly squeal, but it was close.
Megan, too, lived across town on the flatlands. It was a ten minute drive between our two homes. I think I almost made it to her three-story Victorian that day in less than five minutes. Finally, standing in her kitchen, I asked, “How has this mummy been tracked back to Damon?”
“It’s the DNA,” Megan replied. “The test shows clearly that she and Damon share an ancestor.”
The police had probably processed Eva Langdon’s DNA to help them identify her. I shook my head. “How in the world did the police get their hands on Damon’s DNA?”
Megan chewed her lip for a moment, then sighed.
“As it turns out, his parents had his DNA mapped in some kind of program sponsored by the police. I think it was part of an affair while he was on Boy Scouts. He was in his early teens then, but participating meant the data would remain on file with police forever.”
I shook my head. I’d always figured Damon had been spoiled and overprotected when he was a child. This latest information did nothing to change my mind. His parents would probably turn over in their graves to learn their son was now tied to a suspicious death as a result of this silly decision.
“It only means they’re related, though,” Megan hastened to explain. “The police aren’t saying he killed her.”
Not yet, I thought. But I offered up a hearty, “That’s good, then.”
Megan shot me a pleading glance. “Please, let’s go into the living room. I hate leaving Damon to face those two detectives on his own.”
“Is he okay with my being here?”
He had over the years of their marriage indicated he cared for me about as much as I cared for him.
Megan nodded. “He asked me to call you.”
I sighed and followed her to the living room. If he was willing to ask for my help, maybe Damon wasn’t quite as full of himself as he had seemed.
The two detectives glanced up as we entered the room. “Hetty,” Oberton said by way of greeting. Blake sat by his side. From what I had seen in the last case, he was the detective who played second chair in all the investigations.
I acknowledged the men with a worried nod. I had never doubted Oberton’s competence. But even competent policemen made mistakes.
“Damon,” I said, casting a glance his way. My son-in-law sat on the couch. His back was straight, his slender face grim.
I pulled my gaze back to Oberton. “So what is this all about?”
“It’s about police business. Now, I can see those wheels of yours turning inside your head. Stay out of it, Hetty. We’ve got this one covered.”
“How official is this?” I asked.
“Mother!” Megan looked at me with a horrified expression playing across her beautiful face.
I understood her objection. I didn’t want to rush Oberton or push him into an unwelcome decision, either. But questions had to be asked.
Oberton waved Megan’s protest off. “I’m not accusing your son-in-law of doing anything criminal. I’m merely asking him what he knows about his aunt.”
I sat on the edge of a small chair and hissed at my son-in-law. “You never mentioned having a missing aunt.”
“It’s not quite that straight forward,” he answered.
“Well, enlighten me.”
“She was my aunt, but I saw her only rarely. Detective Oberton wanted to know the last time I had. I told him it was at my parents’ funeral. He said that’s about when they think Eva died.”
His parents, David and Gloria Langdon, had been killed in a boating accident when Damon was still in his early teens. “And you didn’t notice that you never saw her again?”
He sighed. “I was distraught. My parents were dead. My aunt breezed into town, sobbed over their caskets. Then, as far as I knew, she went back to Chicago.”
“But what about birthdays and Christmases?” I pressed. “You didn’t notice when she didn’t send you a card or a gift?”
He turned his large, sad eyes on me. “It wasn’t like that. Eva and my parents were never close. She never sent me cards or presents. There was nothing like that to be missed.”
I sat back in my chair. Put that way, his explanation sounded reasonable enough. “Well?” I asked, turning to Oberton.
“I’ve talked to a couple of people who remembered Eva from when she was growing up. They support what Damon says. Apparently Eva liked the excitement of cities. They say she left Hendricksville as soon as she could and rarely came back.”
“Then how did she end up dead in one of our attics?” I asked.
“Well, it wasn’t by natural causes.”
I scowled. “Yes, so you’ve told me”
“The media has the story now, including the ID of the corpse. The news broke on the local radio station about a half hour ago. Doubtless it will be the lead story in tonight’s newspapers and on the TV as well.”
Megan grimaced. “But you can’t think Damon had anything to do with the murder. He was so young.”
“I’m not charging your husband… yet.”
I rose from my chair.
“Mom, where are you going?” she asked.
“Home.”
“But… but….” She cast her gaze about the room.
I turned to face my son-in-law. “Damon, you’ll be fine. In the meantime, don’t say another word. Call a lawyer. Do exactly what he tells you to do. Megan, I’ll call you later... after I check on a few things.”
“Hetty,” Oberton said, fixing me with a hard stare.
“Sir, this is my family. I will do what I must to ensure their safety. And so will they.” That said, I marched out the front door.
***
“We’re on
. Aren’t we?” Andrew was practically tap dancing with excitement. “We’re going to take up the chase!”
“You saw?”
He nodded. “Every fascinating second of it.”
“I’m glad you found it entertaining. That was my son-in-law in the hot seat.”
“Yes, but he’s also a man I’ve heard you bad mouth more than a few times.”
I shrugged. “That was different. Before this, I thought of him as a distant relation. Now,” I expelled a lungful of air, “I suddenly see him as a valued member of my small family who is being threatened by the police.”
“And that changes things?”
I swiveled to face him. “Do you think I want my grandsons’ father convicted of murder?”
He took a step back and shook his head. “Probably not.”
“Indeed.”
“So I take it we’re on this case?”
“Absolutely. Damon may not be my favorite person, but he’s no murderer. I’m absolutely certain of that.”
“And you’ll start where?”
“In the kitchen,” I replied. “The first thing I want is a fresh pot of tea.”
I took off for the other room. Andrew instantly circled around me and popped up in front of me. Startled, I staggered backwards. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” I hissed, my hand plastered to my chest.
“So did Damon know the McNays?” he asked. “I mean whoever the killer is, they had to have access to that attic.”
“That’ a good point. As to Damon knowing the McNays, I don’t know yet if he does.”
“That’s your first task, then, questioning him.”
“No, knowing Damon the way I do, he won’t thank me for focusing my attention his way. I’ll let him wait a bit. He might not even agree to speak with me.”
“What’s his problem?”
“I blame his parents.”
“Well, yes. I think I’ve you’ve already made that perfectly clear.”
“Look, would you please get out of my way?”
Andrew let me step around him, and I proceeded to the kitchen. After snatching the tea kettle from the stove, I turned on the water.