by Mitzi Kelly
"Edna, you're a wonderful friend. I'm sure Sam appreciates all you and Joe are doing. If I'm ever in trouble, it will be good to know you're on my side."
Edna blushed and waved her hand. "Don't be silly. I haven't done anything more than anybody else. And you know I will always stand beside you" Edna then grinned impishly. "However, I'm hoping your trouble-making days are over"
Trish raised her eyebrows. "After all these years, you're not saying that you think I was to blame for that episode with my ex, are you?"
"Certainly not! Any man who sleeps with another woman in his wife's bed should have to hang. I must say, though, that you were a little ... aggressive in how you reacted. That's why the police got involved."
"I disagree. Aggressive would have been to shoot Ed in the kneecap"
"Thank God you didn't have a gun!" Edna chuckled.
"You can say that again." Actually, the unfortunate incident Edna referred to was what had cemented her friendship with Edna and Millie. Trish and her husband, Edward Frisk, had lived in the neighborhood only a few months when Trish had come home from work early and found Ed dancing horizontally with his secretary in their own bedroom.
Looking back, Trish had to admit there had been signs of Ed's infidelity, but she had either been too afraid of leaving him, or her self-confidence had been so low that she never confronted the problem. Naively, she had hoped that the thrill of their new house would bring them closer together again. Ed had definitely grown closer, just not with her. Somehow, having Ed's unfaithfulness thrown in her face sparked the stubborn, independent streak she had grown up with but lost somewhere along the way. However, enough was enough. She deserved better than Ed Frisk.
Ed hadn't heard Trish enter the house that day, and only by a supreme effort of will had she been able to hold back the scream of outrage she'd felt upon witnessing Ed's betrayal. Very calmly, almost trance-like, Trish had walked back into the kitchen. She'd gotten two gallons of bottled water-Ed insisted it was much better, health-wise, than tap water-and a packet of matches. She'd set the water by the bedroom door. Then, in no hurry, she'd walked in and set the end of the bedspread on fire. With quiet dignity, shoulders thrown back, she'd walked out of her house, gotten back in her car, and driven down the street where she could still see what was going on.
She hadn't had long to wait. Soon Ed and his girlfriend had come running out of the house, smoke billowing after them. Ed had only his slacks on and the woman was wrapped in one of Trish's robes. Trish had heard the fire truck at the same time as most of the neighbors did. While they were spilling out of their homes, Trish had smiled grimly and cruised back up the street, noticing with satisfaction that the police were arriving also. The whole scene would have been perfect if there had been a television camera there. She'd parked in front of Millie's house and watched as the firemen began unwinding their hoses while Ed was yelling something about the fire being out, that everything was under control.
Well, there was one thing Ed had been right about: Bottled water was better for your health.
"I still can't believe you just walked up to the police and calmly told them you had lit the fire" Even though Edna and Millie hadn't known Trish that well at the time, they had both stood right beside her when she'd confronted the police, and later, her husband. Their unquestioning support had given her the courage to do what she knew in her heart she had to do: Get rid of her lazy leech of a husband and get on with her life.
"Do you remember the look on Chief Espinoza's face? He didn't quite know what to do. Of course, I fudged the truth a little bit. I admitted walking in on my husband and his girlfriend and said that I was so upset I'd dropped my cigarette." Even after all this time, Trish still couldn't prevent laughing when she thought about that day. Her actions had been so out of character, but she knew that was the day she'd started getting herself back. And to this day she didn't regret any part of it. She called it "the day of liberation." No way was she ever again going to let a man control her the way she had allowed her ex-husband to do.
"What still amazes me is that Ed didn't speak up and tell him you weren't a smoker."
"I think Ed was in shock. Also, he knew if news about this got out he would probably be disinherited. His parents were strict moralists. Adultery was unforgivable. That was the only way I got to keep the house. I threatened to ruin his reputation."
"I still think if the chief had started investigating, you would have ended up in jail."
"Oh, he wanted to," Trish said wryly. "But I think he was slightly embarrassed about the whole thing. But I could tell he was itching to throw his weight around. Nothing really exciting ever happens in our neck of the woods, and he thought he was going to finally get to do some real police work instead of processing speeding tickets."
Edna's grin faded. Their reminiscing had been fun, but it had also brought them back to the current problem. "Do you realize that your remark very closely mimics Claire's?"
Trish winced. "Oh, wow, you're right. I was exaggerating, though. I'm just frustrated that the police let Ed come back to the house and take some things out when I wasn't home, even though I had warned them that we were getting a divorce and he no longer lived there. But to intentionally set someone up? No, that's ridiculous. We have to face the fact that they know something, or think they do"
Edna yawned. "Well, I guess we'll find out soon enough. I'm going to go get some sleep, and I suggest you do the same. Joe is over at the jail waiting for Sam's bond to post so he can bring him home. I'll call you when I hear something."
Trish rose to walk Edna to the door. "I hope you realize what a wonderful husband you have"
Edna smiled, a sweet, lovely smile. "Oh, I do," she said softly and then waved good-bye.
It seemed as though Trish had just closed her eyes when the telephone rang. Rolling over, eyes still glued shut, she reached for the bedside phone. "Hello," she mumbled sleepily.
"Trish, it's Millie. Edna just called. Sam's home and Claire just left to go back over there. I'll meet you out front in five minutes."
"What do you mean, you'll meet me out front? What time is it?"
"It's eleven o'clock. Just throw on a robe and hurry up. Claire said she'd have coffee ready."
Great, Trish thought, trying to force her eyes open, just what I need. More coffee. "Why are we going over there tonight? Shouldn't we wait until morning?"
"According to Edna, Sam's packing up a few things and going over to his sister's tonight," Millie said impatiently.
"And we can't visit him at his sister's house tomorrow because ... ?"
"We're going to see him tonight," Millie snapped before she abruptly hung up, leaving Trish to stare at the phone in her hand. "Oh, that's why," she muttered sarcastically.
Fifteen minutes later they were all seated around Sam's kitchen table, fresh coffee in front of them. Joe sat beside Edna, his arm braced casually against the back of her chair. Even though he had been at the jail most of the evening waiting for Sam to be processed and released, he looked fresh and alert. Maybe there was something to be said for regular exercise, after all, Trish thought to herself, as she tried to stifle another yawn.
The bright, cheerful atmosphere was in stark contrast to the mood in the room. Sam looked dangerously close to collapse, his eyes sunken with dark shadows around them. His jeans and polo shirt, obviously worn all day, were rumpled and his face showed the gray stubble of a full day's beard. He was holding onto his cup with both hands, nervously running his fingers over the rim. Claire was trying too hard to appear positive and confident as she flitted around the table in her cotton robe and slippers, pouring coffee and setting out sugar and creamer.
She started babbling something about the weather when Sam reached out and gently placed a hand on her arm. "Claire, sit down," he said softly. Swallowing, she did as he asked, but not before Trish noticed her eyes filling up with tears.
"First of all," Sam said into the silence, his eyes focused on his coffee cup, "I want to thank
you all for showing your support for me, and for taking care of Claire during this ... difficult time." He cleared his throat, then suddenly looked up, his eyes burning with indignation. "I did not kill my wife."
"Of course you didn't," Millie said firmly, breaking into the stunned silence. She looked like a Christmas tree that had definitely seen better days with her dark green robe, red tennis shoes, and a red bandana tied over her hair. "We wouldn't be here if we thought you were capable of such a thing."
"We don't know exactly why the police believe you are guilty," Joe said, his voice calm and reassuring. He had a way of soothing troubled waters with his anythingis-possible attitude. When he spoke, people generally listened, one important reason he had been such a successful stockbroker. "George Mueller is going to get all the information he can today. When we know what we're dealing with, we'll know how to fight it."
"Joe, I don't know how to thank you for all you've done," Sam said, his voice gruff with emotion. "I'll reimburse the fifteen thousand you put up for my bond tomorrow morning."
Joe shook his head. "Don't worry about it. You just get some rest. I know that sounds impossible under the circumstances, but if you wear yourself down you won't be able to help the attorney strategize. This could be a very long, drawn-out process."
Sam cleared his throat and nodded. "You're right, of course. I'm going to spend the next couple of days over at Shelley's. You all have her number, right?" Everyone around the table nodded. Shelley was Sam's younger sister and was always a welcome member of their get-togethers. She lived just a few blocks down with her husband and two dogs. "The attorney has the number too. Joe, I'll call you as soon as I hear from him, and you can spread any news if you don't mind."
"Of course I will. Claire, I understand you're going with Sam?"
"Yes. Shelley was kind enough to invite me too."
"Good," Millie said. "We'll get the newspaper and check the mail every day"
"Thanks, Millie," Sam said. "This is only temporary. I'm just having some trouble right now ..." Sam's voice broke off as he struggled with his emotions, but they all knew what he meant to say.
"Is there anything else we can do for you, Sam?" Edna would move boulders barehanded if Sam asked her to. Her smile was tender and caring, her eyes full of compassion.
"No, but thank you. You've all done more than enough. I think Claire and I will go on over to Shelley's. You folks go on home and get some sleep. None of us are spring chickens anymore, you know." That was twice in one day that Trish had been compared to an old rooster.
"Speak for yourself, Sam Wiley," Millie said as she got up to give Sam a hug. "Besides, chickens are idiots."
Everyone said their good-byes and left Sam and Claire to finish gathering the things they'd need over the next few days. "It's just so sad," Edna said softly as she walked beside Joe, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.
"I know, honey. I know."
The night was clear and cool, one of those beautiful nights where you felt you could reach out and touch the moon. Millie sighed. "Those two lovebirds are so cute, aren't they?"
Trish looked at the couple walking in front of them. Cute usually didn't apply to mature, sixty-five-yearolds, but she had to admit the phrase fit.
"Tom and I used to take long walks in the evenings. It was so romantic, just us, the stars, and the moon."
"I wish I had known your husband," Trish said quietly. He must have been a saint to put up with Millie. He had passed away shortly before Trish moved into the neighborhood, but it was obvious that he'd been a wellloved and well-respected man.
"We had fifty-five years together. I still miss him, you know. But we'll be together again one day just not yet," she chuckled. "I still have too much to do."
Grinning, Trish put her arm around Millie and squeezed her shoulders. "You bet you do. You still haven't taught me how to crochet."
"I've tried," Millie said wryly, looking up at Trish. "It's hopeless."
They reached Edna's house first. Joe stopped and turned to face them. "I'm going on inside. I'll let you ladies say good night and gossip a bit in private."
"Joe Radcliff," Edna exclaimed, "we do not gossip."
Joe laughed as he turned to walk up his front path. "Good night."
"Thanks, Joe, for everything," Trish called after him.
"Ditto," Millie said.
Trish raised her eyebrows. "Ditto?" Millie stuck her nose in the air, in silent reply.
"I just hope Sam can get some sleep tonight," Edna said. "He looked like he was about to fall on his face."
"Sam's a fighter, but he's been hit with too much at one time. I'm really worried about him." Millie wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill.
"What time are we going to get started in the morning?" Trish asked with renewed energy. She was worried about Sam too, and she'd be doggoned if she was going to sit idly by while a good man was destroyed. Edna and Millie stared at Trish as though she had lost her mind. "Look, we already agreed we were going to do everything we could to help Sam, didn't we?" They nodded slowly, not quite sure where Trish was going with this. "Fine. Then I think the first thing we need to do is check out the house while Sam and Claire are gone"
Millie placed one hand on her hip. "And exactly what do you think we're going to find, Sherlock Holmes?"
"Who knows?" Trish answered, warming to the idea. "I don't have a clue how to prove an accident, but maybe if we can realistically recreate what happened, or if we find something to prove there was no way Sam could have murdered Susan, then we could share that information with the attorney. He'll know what to do"
"Trish, I don't think that's a good idea. We should just wait to see what the attorney finds out. Besides, don't you think the police have already covered every angle?"
"Of course, I do, Edna," Trish replied sardonically. "That's why Sam has been charged with murder."
"Oh, I don't know, Edna," Millie said, considering the idea. "Trish may be on to something. Regardless, what harm can it do?"
"Joe would kill me if he knew I went snooping in Sam's house!"
Millie looked at her pointedly. "Do you tell him everything ?"
"Yes, I do!"
Millie rolled her eyes. "Well, suit yourself. Count me in, Trish."
"Great. How about eight-thirty?"
"And just how are you two planning on getting into Sam's house?"
"With the gardener's key." Millie said. The previous year, Sam had spent a fortune landscaping his front and back yards. It had proven too much for him to care for on his own, and although Susan loved the gardens, she hadn't wanted to be tied down to yard work to preserve the intricate mixture of flowers and shrubs. Hence, they had hired a professional gardener who came once a week, just like clockwork, to maintain the magic.
"Last chance, Miss Chicken. Are you going to come with us, or not?"
Edna looked at Millie and chewed on her bottom lip. "Oh, all right, I'll join you. I still don't think it's a wise thing to do, though" She didn't know what she was going to tell Joe, but she couldn't sit at home while her friends worked to prove Sam's innocence.
Trish grinned and threw her arm straight out. "All for one-"
Edna giggled and clasped Trish's outstretched hand. "And one for all!"
Millie rolled her eyes and slapped at their hands. "Ditto. Okay, it's settled. We'll meet at Trish's in the morning. Now, we had better get inside before the neighbors think we're getting ready to streak or something. Three silver-haired cronies standing outside at midnight in their robes could cause severe indigestion."
"My hair is not silver," Trish smirked.
"It would be if you stopped putting color on it."
Unfortunately, Trish thought to herself, Millie had a point.
"Is this legal?" Edna whispered, definitely having qualms about what they were doing. She was crouched behind Trish, who was bending down and searching for the key Sam always left under the big rock by the back door that led into the garage.
"Got it!" Trish grunted as she pushed herself up.
"Did you hear what I asked?"
"Hush, Edna," Millie said, pushing her glasses up her nose. "This isn't breaking-and-entering."
"But we don't have permission, either."
"Who do you think is going to file a complaintSam?"
"Millie, you take a lot for granted, you old coot!" Those were strong words, coming from Edna.
"And you're a chicken!"
"Shh! Would you two stop arguing? Look, the door is already unlocked!"
"Hmm ... I guess Sam forgot to check it last night. Oh well, it just makes our job easier. Come on" Pushing her dark sunglasses on top of her head, her effort at a disguise, Millie went through the door with Edna and Trish following. Immediately they were enveloped in complete darkness.
Edna gasped, her nerves clearly already stretched thin.
Trish said, "Millie, open that door again to let in some light until I get the door to the kitchen open" No one had thought to bring a flashlight since they would be doing their snooping in broad daylight.
"What if Sam locked the kitchen door?" Edna asked, probably praying that he had.
"He didn't," Trish said, pushing the door open. "Come on, She led the way inside the house. She wasn't going to admit it to Millie, and certainly not to Edna, but there was a growing unease in the pit of her stomach. She reasoned that it was a natural response, though. They were alone, uninvited, in a dark, quiet house where a woman had died recently. Nevertheless, the hair on the back of her neck stood up, goading her imagination to believe that evil lurked behind every shadow.
"Shouldn't we turn on some lights, or at least open some of the blinds to let in more light?" Edna whispered. The morning sunlight struggled in vain to cut through the barrier of the closed window blinds. There was just enough light to enhance the feeling of a deserted house breathing sorrow and misfortune.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Millie said. "We don't want to advertise what we're doing. You know, I didn't think of this at first, but they may even have police patrolling this area to keep an eye on Sam. And would you stop whispering, for goodness' sake?"