"Do you mean the garden? We haven't started yet."
"Oh, that." She waved a hand. "Yes, eventually I'd love a huge garden. But I meant..." She looked around, lowering her voice further. "Well, I feel I can tell you boys, but I'm not sure I'm ready to tell the entire neighborhood yet. Though I suppose they'll find out soon enough if we do move in together."
"Mary?" said Abe, feeling more confused than ever. "What do you mean?" She couldn't possibly...
"Fiona and I. We're...seeing one another." She clasped her hands together, her cheeks glowing. "I never knew I could be this happy. I thought I was stuck, because when I was younger, of course everyone got married, and I did, too, and it was...it was all right, I suppose, but not...not like this. I thought those feelings would go away, but they never really did. And Fi, dear Fi—she's been so patient and kind, but I knew I could never...change. Never be open or...or different. I would just be the lonely widow who bakes and gardens. But that's all changed now. I feel twenty years younger, as if my life is starting brand-new!" She laughed, suddenly self-conscious. "Isn't that rather funny? Two older ladies, finally finding one another at our age."
Abe rose and walked over to her. "I think it's wonderful." He embraced her gently. Her slim bones made him think of a tiny bird. "I'm so very happy for you both."
He studied her for a moment, the joy she couldn't hide. All this time, he'd thought of her as rather a simple-minded soul, and she'd been concealing all of this uncertainty, longing, and regret. And he'd thought he was observant.
What else have I missed around here?
She drew back, waving a hand awkwardly. "Oh, you'll want to talk about something else, I'm sure. The murder, perhaps. Isn't it shocking? I still can't believe it was Winnie. She always seemed like such a sweet girl."
"I know," said Abe. "It's unreal somehow. The Winnie I knew..." He shook his head. It still hurt to talk about.
"Do you suppose the other rumors are true?" said Mary, looking worried. "About her husband, I mean. It was quite shocking. That he cheated on her. And, well, if he did get violent with her, I almost wouldn't blame her. It was hard enough being married to a decent man. I can't imagine what that would be like. How horrible." She shuddered. "I almost wouldn't blame her for that, but...but Clarence? I know he was beastly, but he didn't really hurt anyone, did he? I mean, he didn't threaten her life or hit her." Mary looked really worried about it.
Abe did his best to find something soothing to say. "I know what you mean. But maybe we'll never really understand. I think she must be sorry she did it, or why would she have tried to harm herself? She must've regretted it. That doesn't make up for it, of course. I wish I'd known she was so upset. I'd have talked to her, tried to be there for her. But, honestly, she didn't seem that upset when he denigrated her flowers. She seemed quite philosophical."
"Maybe she was already planning to kill him at that point?" suggested Gregory. He licked some icing off his thumb. The cake had gotten a lot smaller since Abe had looked last.
"Why, though? Could she have been so truly upset that she meant to get revenge for something he did years ago—but only when the opportunity fell right into her lap?" Abe shook his head. "It doesn't make sense." He sighed. "Poor Winnie. She hid it really well."
"Poor Winnie? The girl murdered someone and tried to shove the blame off onto each of us!" said Gregory.
"Oh, that shovel was dastardly!" agreed Mary. "It was like something out of a murder mystery, wasn't it? I'm so glad the police weren't fooled."
"Me too," said Gregory indistinctly.
"And I don't think they ever really considered me a suspect, either," admitted Abe. "But it was not very pleasant to wake up to a dead body in my backyard."
"No. How horrid." Mary shuddered. She still seemed taken with the murder mystery aspect of it. "Still, her note will likely explain a good deal. I've only had it second or third hand—what did it say, exactly?" She leaned forward, eyes gleaming with interest.
"Oh, we didn't read it," said Abe. "It wouldn't have been right. The police need such things untouched, you know. We focused on calling the ambulance and...keeping her alive." His voice faltered. It had been so dreadful, all of it. It was horrible seeing Winnie that way, knowing she could die, knowing she'd done it to herself, and killed someone else as well.
Mary stared at Abe, then at Gregory. "But that can't be right. It's all round the neighborhood, what the note said."
Gregory shook his head. "Didn't read it. Abe, here, is too honest." He grinned. "Honest ol' Abe."
"Would you stop?" said Abe, trying not to smile at the teasing. "I'm not ashamed of following the rules!"
"Nor should you be," said Mary distractedly. "But I heard it from a couple of people. What the note said, more or less. I can't remember the exact wording. Do you think someone just invented it? How terrible!" She covered her mouth with her hands, looking honestly distressed. "And I've been repeating it, spreading it about! Oh, dear."
"Could someone else have glimpsed the note?" said Gregory, straightening up carefully. "Besides the police, I mean?"
"No, we were right there the whole time till they arrived, remember? Rick was only focused on Winnie, and neither of us touched it."
"Perhaps the police told someone? I mean, one of the officers on the scene who saw the note could have told a friend or relative...?" Gregory was sitting up straighter, an alert look in his eyes.
"The gossip mill. I've become a party to the gossip mill," said Mary in a repentant sort of way. "Here, I thought I was spreading harmless information, helping people to keep up to date with local goings-on, and all the time I've—I've—"
"Mary, stop. This isn't your fault. Who told you what the note said? And what did they claim it said, the best you can recall?"
She looked at him with frightened eyes. "That—that she'd done it," Mary said quietly. "That she'd killed him because he used her and wasn't sorry, and her—her husband started beating her after that. Oh, dear. You mean it was all imaginary? Who would make up something like that?"
"I'm not sure anyone did," said Gregory quietly. He'd stopped stuffing his face with cake. His eyes were very grave. "Mary, who told you what the note said?"
"It was Clarice. She's not connected with the police, though. She said Janice told her. Oh, dear. She's not connected with the police, either. When I saw her later, at the farmer's market, it was all she could talk about. I'm sure she told any number of other people."
"I think we need to find out who told Janice."
"It could be a very long list, I'm afraid." Mary laughed self-consciously. "Oh, dear."
"It could be. But I don't think so. Could you call her, please, if you have her number? And ask if she remembers who told her?"
"Of course." Mary nodded vigorously.
They all sat around the table, tense and waiting, while the phone rang. Mary put it on speaker phone so they could listen.
"Janice, dear," said Mary, trying to sound breezy and not quite managing it, "I'm sorry to trouble you. Can you remember who told you about the note? First, I mean?"
"Oh!" Janice's voice crackled on the other end of the line. Abe knew her as the hearty, red-faced woman who sold eggs at the farmer's market. She was cheerful and didn't look down on him, and the eggs were excellent. He much preferred to give her his business rather than some large chain grocery store.
He wondered suddenly if little things like that would be enough to mesh his and Gregory's worldview and lives together. He didn't want to change too much. Didn't want to lose himself in another relationship and then find out someday there was no 'me' anymore, nothing of his own, only 'ours' and 'his.' I won't do that again. He glanced at the man he was going to be officially dating. I don't think Gregory would want me to, either.
"Let me see," said Janice, dragging it out, relishing the attention. "I think it was... Yes, I'm sure it was. The first one to tell me was Lorraine. She was right there when the ambulance arrived, you know. Trimming her roses. She said she'd talk
ed with those gay fellows, the clever one and the muscular one. Oh, what are their names again?"
"Abe and Gregory," said Mary faintly. She was blushing harder.
"Yes. Such a nice couple, don't you think? Anyway, she talked with them, and they told her what the note said. Can you believe it? Winnie, a murderer! Poor thing."
We all feel sorry for her, thought Abe. And shouldn't that go away when we find out what she did? But he couldn't help it.
"Thank you, dear," said Mary. "I must go. I've left the oven on. Baking, you know. I'll need lots more of your lovely eggs next week!" Her voice held a false note, but Janice didn't seem to notice.
She laughed. "Of course, hon. Talk to you soon!"
Mary put the phone down and expelled her breath loudly. "Sorry about that." She looked at the two anxiously.
"Don't be," said Gregory. "We are dating—though we only just stared, so she must be a fortune teller." He grinned. "Or else I've been more obvious than I thought."
"Oh." Mary looked relieved and a bit confused. "But, what she said about the note. You didn't really tell Lorraine all of that? You didn't read it?"
"Nope."
"So, how did she...? Did she just make it all up to have a good story to tell?" Mary looked appalled at the thought of anyone inventing gossip, not just passing it.
"No, I think she knew what the note said." Gregory looked grim, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops. "I think she wrote it."
"You mean, the Lockwoods did it after all? And tried to blame Winnie?" Abe was surprised how relieved he felt. He should be frightened—murderers might still be on the loose—but instead, he felt so much lighter inside. It made sense to him emotionally in a way that Winnie's murderousness and suicide attempt never could. "They wouldn't have any scruples about trying to blame us, that's for sure."
"It would be a feature, not a bug," said Gregory distractedly. He looked out the window. "Will the police figure it out, if that's what happened? I mean, the note not being Winnie's. That it was a murder attempt, not suicide."
"Oh, dear," said Mary. "The Lockwoods? Oh, dear!"
"Talking about the note was a mistake," said Abe grimly. "It can't be explained away. She couldn't have read it. We were there the entire time. There's simply no way. And why talk about it at all? She must know we'd deny telling her, if we ever found out."
"She probably didn't think it would get back to us that she'd said we told her. People would assume we were being coy and denying the truth. She can't have thought we actually wouldn't read it. Probably everyone will think that we did." Gregory put a hand on Abe's arm. "I think we have to go to the police with this. Whether they believe us or not. There's nothing more we can do ourselves."
"Oh, yes, do be careful!" said Mary.
"We will," promised Abe. "We'll go and talk to them right away. You be careful as well."
"I shall lock the doors firmly till Fi gets home," said Mary.
As they were leaving, no gardening today, and not much of the cake remaining, Fiona appeared, unwrapping a silk scarf from her shoulders. "Mary, darling—" She stopped when she saw the men and looked thoroughly alarmed. "What's going on?" she said gruffly.
"Oh, Fi, dearest, there's something really dreadful happening. It looks as though Winnie wasn't the murderess after all! You must let me tell you all about it. But Abe and Gregory have to go to the police right away."
Murderess didn't sound quite right to Abe, even from Mary's lips. He said his goodbyes and headed back home with Gregory close beside him. "My spine feels shuddery," he said. "It feels a lot more real, somehow, if it's the Lockwoods. Why wouldn't she just keep her mouth shut? We'd never have suspected her." No, he thought miserably. I'd have believed Winnie was guilty forever, even if I didn't want to.
"How shall we play this?" said Gregory. "Just tell them the truth, that we were investigating, but it was partly just an excuse to spend time together, and we absolutely did not read the note or tell Lorraine, even though she claims to know what it says?"
"It's really all we can do," said Abe. "Oh, dear. I should have showed them the threat, shouldn't I? Do you suppose it's too late? I've kept it in a plastic baggie."
"You may as well bring it along. Do you still have the card of the detective who spoke with you? I've got mine, but I'm not sure he'll be the most willing to listen. He was one of those grizzled guys who looks like they'd rather hit you with a phone book than listen to one more alibi."
"Mine wasn't quite that bad. Though I did tell him I don't like mysteries," Abe admitted guiltily.
Gregory barked a laugh. "I'm sure you don't—anymore."
"I'll come clean. I'll tell him everything!"
Once he was safely inside his home, his back crawled a bit less, but he was still far from easy. He dug out the note and the detective's card, phoned and made an appointment to speak with him. Yes, it was about the case. Yes, it was very important. Yes, they could be there within the hour. Thank you.
He hung up with a relieved sigh.
"There, now," said Gregory. "It's all going to be fine." He wrapped his arms around Abe, who sank gratefully into the embrace.
DETECTIVE JEFFRIES pinched the top of his nose. "So, you're saying you do like detective stories."
"Yes," said Abe repentantly. "But after this, I'm sure I won't anymore." He sat primly in front of the detective's desk, Gregory next to him, a sturdy presence, holding his hand below where the detective could see.
Jeffries looked tired, like he hadn't gotten much sleep. He'd taken off his glasses partway through Abe's speech. They'd left little pressure marks visible on his nose.
Gregory gave him a "go on, you're doing great" look, and Abe forced himself to continue. "Well, you—you see, we didn't read the note. It wouldn't have been right. When we found Winnie, and Rick was there as well. He can confirm it, I'm sure. We didn't read the note, and we certainly didn't tell anyone what it said. Well, how could we? We didn't read it."
"Yes, you've said," said Jeffries.
"Henrietta said that she always thought Clarence was having an affair with one of the neighbors, you see. Winnie, or Lorraine, or possibly both of them, I don't quite know. It was...rather discussed at the time. That was a long time ago, of course, but it seems that Winnie is getting blamed for the murder, and that affair is at least part of the reason, if the note says what Lorraine said it does. But if she wrote it, if she tried to kill Winnie, then her motive may have been the one she gave Winnie, you understand? She was the one having an affair. She killed Clarence, or did it with her husband. I don't know why, exactly. Clarence was nasty, of course, but that's a very long time to go without killing someone, if you mean to kill them. And if it was spontaneous, why? It was obviously premeditated a bit, because someone picked him up in their car, right?"
The detective was looking a bit more interested in spite of himself. "We haven't found the car yet," he hedged.
"Have you looked at the Lockwoods' car?" Gregory leaned forward, his seat creaking.
"Two cars," interrupted Abe. "They have two cars."
"I'll make a note of that," said the detective, jotting something down. "Forensics haven't been over every vehicle in the neighborhood. We haven't had the kind of evidence to do so. Or, frankly, the budget."
"But you've been over ours, haven't you?" said Gregory.
The detective pinched his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as if he had a painful headache, then nodded. "There was enough evidence for that."
"But not for the next nearest neighbors?" asked Abe indignantly.
The detective tapped his pen against his notebook. "Perhaps we'll have enough for the Lockwoods' vehicles now. I'll speak with this Janice to confirm her story. And, while I can't talk about an ongoing investigation, we've also been over the Winters woman's car."
"And you didn't find anything, did you? Not a trace of evidence that it was her who took him away in her car."
"Forensic evidence is still coming in," said the detective in an official sort
of voice. "But thank you for your tip. The police appreciate community support."
"It's not a bake sale," muttered Gregory.
"You can't tell us anything, but if you're still looking, it means there really isn't any good evidence Winnie killed that man. Oh, I am glad!"
The detective stood. "You need to let us handle it from here. We're the professionals. Please don't involve yourselves further. Of course, if you think of anything else you might have forgotten..." He handed over another business card.
Abe and Gregory took the dismissal and left, promising to be in touch if they remembered anything.
Abe had left behind the threatening card, feeling guilty over not showing it earlier (and over claiming he didn't like mysteries), with the tired man at his desk.
"Do you think it's enough?" he said, bumping his shoulder gently against Gregory's as they walked out of the building, relishing the comfort that tiny act gave him.
"It's all we can do." Gregory put a hand on the middle of Abe's back. "Come on. Let's go home."
Chapter nine
The police showed up quietly at the Lockwoods' house in the middle of Abe and Gregory's supper.
Abe had made an elegant beef bourguignon, and Gregory had helped with some of the prep. It was a comfortable and delicious way to start dating. Abe felt at ease in his kitchen, and Gregory enjoyed everything he made (or at least had seemed to so far).
They talked about Mary and Fiona, the case, gardening, and life in general. It was an easy conversation that flowed comfortably, without any forced "getting to know you" questions.
They were eating quietly, enjoying it too much to chat at the moment, when they saw the police car pull up at the neighbors'. Two officers went inside.
After that, nothing for a bit, though they kept glancing out the window and saw the patrol car hadn't left. After a bit, another police car arrived, and this time, several people began putting up crime scene tape around the Lockwoods' garage and carrying out items in evidence bags.
Eventually, the Lockwoods emerged and were helped into the patrol car, looking furious and like people who had been read their rights. They were being taken in for questioning—on information received from Abe and Gregory.
The Body in the Backyard Page 14