by Mitzi Kelly
"Oh," Edna grimaced. "I didn't even know I was."
"You may be right, Millie. Regardless, we don't want to take a chance on getting caught in here. I think there's enough light to see by," Trish whispered, peering through the shadows. Then she shook her head. "Geez," she said in a normal voice. "You've got me doing it, too.
"It is kind of creepy, isn't it?"
Trish shot her an exasperated look. "Hush, Millie. We don't need any theatrics right now." They were still standing in the kitchen, almost huddled together. There wasn't any sign of their late-night meeting. The cups must have been washed and put away, the table wiped clean. Claire wouldn't leave a mess, even though she knew there wasn't anybody who would notice. The faint smell of lemon oil was achingly familiar.
Trish sighed deeply. She would have to take the lead. This had been her brainstorm, after all, but that eerie feeling persisted, making her wonder if maybe her mouth had overridden her common sense last night. She couldn't back out now, though. She'd never hear the end of it. Besides, Sam needed their help.
"What are we looking for, anyway?"
"To be quite honest, I'm not sure, Millie. I think, going by Claire's explanation of what happened to Susan that morning, we should try to recreate what happened. Maybe we'll get some sort of idea about what the police are thinking."
"Fine. Which one of us is going to play Susan?" Millie asked in a saucy tone.
Now, there was a dare if Trish had ever heard one. Squaring her shoulders, she said with false bravado, "I will. I'm more her size, anyway."
"Susan wasn't chubby."
"Ha ha, that's very funny. Come on, let's go upstairs." With Trish in front, they walked single file past the dining room with the elegant cherrywood furniture and into the front foyer where the stairs began. There were no windows in this area to let in even a sliver of light. Trish stopped, took a deep, calming breath, and said over her shoulder, "Edna, Millie, be very careful. It's impossible to see a thing. Let's hold hands and walk up very, very slowly, one step at a time."
"Trish," Edna said in a small voice, "why don't we come back tomorrow and bring a flashlight?"
Uh-uh, there was no way that Trish was coming back into this house without Sam or Claire. But, her common sense nudged at her: what if Millie or Edna got hurt during this little investigative venture? She'd never forgive herself. Running a hand through her hair, she sighed, ready to call it quits for the day when Millie spoke up. "Girls, we can do this. We've come this far, and all we have to do is look around the bathroom. Let's just get it over with" Her voice was tinged with excitement. Trish couldn't help but admire her spunk, but she still wondered if it was the right decision. Just because she personally wanted this over with didn't mean it was a smart idea.
"Edna, what do you think?" Trish asked, giving her the opportunity to voice her opinion. Whatever Edna said, they would do.
Edna gave a very deep, audible sigh. "Okay, okay, okay-let's go. But, please go slow. I don't want to spend the rest of my day at the hospital because one of you broke your leg, or even worse, your neck"
"That's the spirit!" Millie exclaimed. "Trish, you go up first. Edna, grab her hand with one of yours and then hold mine with your other. That way, if one of us trips, we'll have help."
"No, wait a minute," Trish said, moving behind Millie. "Better yet, I'll bring up the rear. I'm younger and stronger. If one of you stumbles, I'll be able to break the fall"
"Well, that's a good point," Millie said.
"I'm not going up first!" Edna exclaimed.
"I will, then," Millie said, pushing Edna out of the way. "Get behind me and hold on tight."
Trish closed her eyes and prayed for patience. By the time they decided how they were going to navigate the stairs, Sam could be convicted.
"Okay, gals, are you ready?" Millie asked.
"I'm ready," Edna replied, almost breaking the bones in Trish's hand.
"Ditto," Trish groaned.
Slowly, leaning back against the stairwell wall, they walked sideways up the stairs, one step at a time. Edna started counting in time with their steps: one, two, stop; one, two, stop. While part of Trish's brain tuned in with the rhythmic chant, another part tried to deal with the ongoing feeling that something wasn't quite right. Faced with a clear problem, Trish was usually excellent at solving it, tackling it head-on, but this feeling wasn't something she could neatly classify. It was an aura, a sense of ... what? That was the question. If only she could pinpoint the what.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Millie announced that she had reached the landing. With a collective sigh of relief, they stood still for a moment, shaking out their numb fingers. It was brighter up here, sunlight slightly filtering in through the bedroom windows and faintly spilling out into the hallway.
Suddenly, Trish started to giggle. "What's so funny?" Millie asked, a little worried that the stress had gotten to her friend.
"As much fun as it was holding Edna's trembling hand and learning to count again, it would have been much simpler to have just held on to the banister."
"Oh, Lord," Edna chuckled, covering her face with her hands. "Thank goodness there aren't any witnesses to what we just did."
Millie was laughing so hard her side hurt. "If either of you ever tells anybody about this," she gasped, wip ing a tear from her eye, "I'll deny it until the day I die!"
Their laughter finally subsided, the welcome relief from tension and fear spurring them down the hall. But then Millie stopped and held up a hand. "Why is this door open?"
Trish looked into the room and shrugged. "It's just a spare bedroom. All of the other bedroom doors are open, so why wouldn't this one be?"
"I thought you knew," Edna said nervously. "This bedroom door is always kept closed and locked. There's a ... um, well, I hate to reveal secrets, but I'm sure Sam thinks you already know .. "
"What does Sam think I already know?" Trish wished Edna would spit it out. What was the big secret?
"For goodness' sake, Edna, I'll tell her," Millie said impatiently. "There's a hidden safe in here. I've got the combination written down in my address book. Sam always said if there was an emergency we should open up the safe and give the contents to his sister."
"Well, then, Sam probably left the door open," Trish said. "He either emptied the safe, or he just checked it recently. Maybe Susan's will was in there. Who knows? But who else could have opened the door if it was locked? Let's don't invent problems, okay?"
"You're right, of course," Edna said. "Let's get on with this. Joe went to the hardware store this morning, but he should be home soon"
"So you didn't have to lie to him, did you?" Millie chuckled.
"No, thank God, but I want to be home when he gets there"
The elegant features of the master bathroom were shrouded in gloom. Trish wasn't prepared for the rush of emotion that ran through her as she surveyed the room. Her friend had died here, a horrible, tragic death.
The room was big enough for all three of them to move around. Trish wondered again if this was a terrible mistake, their coming into the house to try and understand the exact circumstances so that they could help Sam. Seeing the scene where the accident had happened felt like an intrusion into personal heartache, an unforgivable invasion of the most intimate moment in a person's life, the unwilling surrender of a heart and soul.
In the back of her mind, Trish heard Millie and Edna chatting about the gorgeous room, but their comments were choppy, agitated. They felt it too.
Trish took a deep breath. Think about Sam. Remember that you're doing this for him. Do what you have to do, and then get out!
66Okay, let's walk this through," Trish said. "Susan would have walked in and probably started the bath water first" Millie and Edna moved closer and watched as Trish bent over the tub, pretending to turn on the faucet. She then acted out the steps she assumed Susan had taken next, placing a towel over the towel rack, pouring in bath oil, and, since there was no radio in sight-the police probabl
y had it she pretended to pull one from the cabinet. It was while she was trying to place it on the tub edge that her gut clenched.
Millie noticed the same thing. "There's no way a radio could have perched on the edge of the tub" "What are you talking about?" Edna asked, coming to stand beside Millie.
"This tub doesn't have a normal ledge. Its edges are small and rounded. You couldn't even place a bottle of bath oil there," Millie said.
"Then, where was the radio before it fell in?"
Trish straightened and looked around. Where could Susan have placed a radio? The nearest electrical plug was above the medicine cabinet. The window sill was too high up, and both the commode and the wicker stand were too far away. If she had placed it on the vanity, it couldn't have accidentally fallen in. Suddenly she shuddered, that strange feeling of unease returning, but this time she felt as if they were being watched, that they were not alone. "There's an explanation, I'm sure. We'll just talk it through. But I think we can go now."
Millie and Edna didn't argue. They followed Trish out of the room and into the hallway, where once again they faced the dark stairs. "This time we'll use the banister. Edna needs to get home"
"That's right. I do," Edna said quickly, gripping the banister with both hands.
Millie and Trish were close behind.
Outside, on the sidewalk in front of Sam's house, the bright sunlight successfully chased away the lingering traces of fear. It was easy for them to relax now, even to giggle at their mad dash down the stairs.
"I don't ever want to do anything like that again," Edna said. "I don't think my heart can take it."
"Oh, pooh," Millie scoffed, "it wasn't that bad. Besides," she said conspiratorially, "we did discover something interesting. How did that radio end up in the bathtub?"
Trish crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know," she admitted ruefully, "but I don't see how it could have accidentally fallen in." She looked back up at the house-and then did a double take. Had the curtains in the upstairs bedroom window just moved? Of course not! Still, she stared, praying that she could blame her imagination for the tingling along her spine.
"What's wrong?" Edna asked, noticing Trish's startled expression. The concern was evident in her voice as she placed a comforting hand on Trish's arm.
Trish shook her head and pulled her gaze from the window. "Nothing," she croaked, cleared her throat, and said again, "nothing-I was just trying to figure out what could have happened" There was no need to elaborate that she was talking about the curtains moving. That would really send Edna over the edge. Anyway, it had to have been her imagination. Trish definitely, one hundred percent, categorically, did not believe in ghosts.
"Well, it's a cinch to see what the police believe," Millie said with a grimace as she started to walk away from Sam's house. "How do we tactfully tell them that they're idiots?"
"Millie!" Edna exclaimed as she and Trish fell in beside her.
"I know, I know," Millie said too sweetly, "I usually don't care about being tactful, but Sam's life is at stake here"
"Millie Morrow, you know that is not what I was talking about," Edna said impatiently.
Millie's lips twitched as she peered up at Trish and winked.
"You're a pig-headed old lady," Trish whispered to her. Aloud, she said, "Let's calm down. We have to admit it does look bad, but that doesn't mean Sam is guilty. If this was, indeed, a murder"-a shudder ran through her as she forced herself not to look back at the house-"then who could have done it, and why?" Nobody had the answer to that question. "What's even more curious is why they're charging someone with the crime now. This happened almost two weeks ago, and there hasn't been any hint at all that they've been investigating anything."
They had reached Edna's house, where Joe's car was parked in the driveway. "Since Joe is home now, I'll find out if he's heard anything from Sam or the attorney. I'll call you if there's any news."
Millie nodded. "Please do that"
"We'll see you later, Edna," Trish said. "Tell Joe `hello' for us"
"I need to do some house cleaning," Millie said as she and Trish continued walking. "Michelle is coming by today for lunch"
"Is she bringing those two adorable grandkids of yours?"
"Of course-my daughter knows better than to come over without them. I have to get my fair time to spoil them, you know."
"You enjoy your visit, then. I think I'll try and get some work done, myself." Trish operated an accounting service from her home office. The work was fulfilling, the hours were great, and the pay was quite good, but it was entirely too easy to let outside influences keep her from putting in the necessary time to complete a project-like now. If Trish wasn't careful, she'd get so wrapped up in Sam's tragedy that she'd be pulling an all-nighter just to get caught upon her work-and the older she got, the harder it was to work all night.
Millie took a deep breath. "Now that the of scaredycat isn't around, what do you think really happened to Susan?"
They were in front of Trish's house now, and she stopped, shaking her head. Leave it to Millie to center all the blame on Edna when she knew good and well that they had all been scared silly. "First of all, Edna isn't a scaredy-cat. She's just cautious"-Trish ignored Millie's inelegant snort "and there's nothing wrong with that. But, to answer your question, I can see how murder could be a possibility. If it wasn't Sam we're talking about here, I'd even say it was likely." Trish's voice had lowered to barely above a whisper.
Millie nodded, her lips drawn in a tight line as she bent to pluck a stray weed from Trish's yard. "I think we all agree. So, what do we do now?" she asked as she straightened, the offending weed still in her hand.
Trish's eyebrows rose. They were talking about murder, and Millie acted like it wasn't any more serious than deciding whether it was too early to eat dinner or not. She reached out and knocked on Millie's head. "Hello, is anybody home in there?"
Millie's mouth popped open and she took a step back. "What did you do that for?" she asked indignantly.
"I did that because I think you've lost your marbles! What do you mean `What are we going to do now?"'
Millie placed her hands on her hips. "Whose idea was it to help Sam in the first place?"
"That was when I thought we were trying to prove Susan's death was an accident ... not the result of murder!"
"So now he doesn't deserve our help?"
"I never said that, Millie," Trish said, her eyes narrowing at the short fireball standing in front of her. Both of them had raised their voices by now. Trish just hoped the neighbors didn't hear and come rushing out of their homes like kids gathering around a schoolyard fight. If Millie threw the first punch, Trish knew she could take her, but Millie didn't appear to be concerned at all. She was going to have to work on her threatening skills.
"Then, what are you saying?"
Trish counted to ten, slowly. "Do you realize how dangerous it could be to get involved in this?"
"Ah ... you were right," Millie said, her eyes twinkling. "Edna isn't the scaredy-cat-sorry, my mistake."
It was the twinkling eyes that saved her. Otherwise, Millie might have been sitting on the ground by now.
"You're a brat, Millie." The smile in Trish's voice added sincerity to the endearment.
"I know," she chuckled, and then sighed deeply as her forehead creased in worry. "We have to do something, though, and you know it."
Trish sighed. "I'm not having any brainstorms right now."
"That's it!" Millie exclaimed. "We'll have a brainstorming party tonight. When Michelle leaves, I'll come over. You get in touch with Edna and let her know. And," Millie said dramatically, "I'll bring dessert. Jell-O and fruit, my rear end!"
Before Trish could close her mouth, Millie was halfway across the street.
When Edna called that afternoon to tell her that the attorney had not yet received copies of the arrest warrant and official report, Trish related what Millie had suggested. To her surprise, Edna willingly agreed to the meet
ing later that evening. As she had so eloquently put it, "We're Sam's only hope"
A few hours later, Trish turned off her computer and stretched. She would mail the financial statements she had just completed, along with her bill, to the construction company that used her services, and she'd be free for a few days. Yawning, she glanced at the clock. Four o'clock! My, how time flew when you billed by the hour.
At least the tedious work had kept her mind off Sam for a while. Speaking of which, she only had a couple of hours before Edna and Millie were due to arrive. She'd need to make a snack tray-they were all incurable munchers-and there was one other thing she wanted to do before her friends showed up.
A few minutes later, Trish stood in front of the exercise machine, sans the spandex outfit. She was wasting her time trying to intimidate this cold chunk of metal by dressing like an experienced, professional exercise person. Nope, this afternoon it was sweatpants and tennis shoes.
With a determined attitude she lowered herself onto the black leather seat at one side of the machine and placed her feet on the pedals. Her knees were bent almost to her chest, but evidently that was the way it was supposed to work. Grasping the two handles on each side of the seat, she took a deep breath and pushed with her legs, and ... pushed! Nothing budged. Trish took a deeper breath and pushed harder. Still nothing happened, except that she now had a purple face and a headache. Puzzled, she sat for a minute reviewing the picture in her mind of the tiny, slim woman in the manual easily pushing the pedal as she smiled a movie-star smile, not even breaking a sweat.
Hmm ... something had to be wrong. Trish got up and slowly walked around the machine. Then she saw it. The little lever that controlled the amount of weight to be used was stuck in the hole marking two hundred pounds. Rolling her eyes heavenward, she pulled it out and stuck it in the twenty-pound hole. She wasn't Wonder Woman yet.
This time the pedal moved with relative ease. Push ... release, clang! Push ... release, clang! Trish could feel the pressure, but it wasn't too bad. Soon she was into an easy rhythm. Smiling with satisfaction, she let her mind wander. And since there wasn't much else going on in her life right now, her mind wandered right over to the dilemma Sam was in.