At exactly ten o’clock, Mary and Millie walked into Furry Friends Pet Shop. John stood behind the counter. Krissie, a small hairy dog under one arm, leaned against the front of it, talking to him intently. They both looked up when the bell rang.
‘You’ve heard the news?’ John asked after he’d scratched Millie’s ears. ‘Of course you have. So has everyone else in town. I can’t believe it. How could she fall down the hill and break her neck?’
‘Break her neck? Where did you hear that?’ Mary stopped short to stare at John. ‘Is that what they’re saying on the news?’
‘Isn’t that what happened?’
Krissie shifted the dog to her other arm.
She glanced from John back to Mary. From the expression on her face, Mary thought they’d been discussing how Gloria had fallen down the hill and if someone had helped break her neck. She sighed. ‘Last I heard they didn’t know what happened. Dan’s in San Luis. He wants an autopsy right away.’
‘He also wants bank records.’ John’s face was an interesting combination of pleasure that he had a good piece of gossip to report, and sadness. For Gloria? Mary didn’t think so. He barely knew her and hadn’t seemed to like her much.
‘How do you know that?’ Krissie was more than willing to take the bait. ‘Why would he want her bank records?’
John reddened. ‘Glen said … that is, don’t the police always want them?’
‘Not unless they think you’re selling drugs, embezzling from someone or forging checks. At least, that’s why they want them in the mysteries I read.’ Krissie narrowed her carefully plucked eyebrows at him. ‘Do they think Gloria was doing one of those things?’
‘No one thinks anything right now,’ Mary inserted firmly. ‘It could very well have been an accident. It’s slippery on the side of that bank.’
‘How do you know?’ John looked taken aback.
‘Millie and I took a walk up there a few days ago. The view is beautiful but that bank is really steep. If she walked out on it she could have slipped.’
‘I can’t see Gloria walking out on the edge of a cliff.’ John sounded certain.
Mary was inclined to agree with him but they didn’t know that for sure. They didn’t know anything for sure, except that poor Gloria was dead. However, the absence of facts would in no way stop the rumors flying. That they were already aloft, she had no doubt, and that served no one well.
‘We’ll have to wait and see what the police say.’ Mary’s voice was firm. The conversation about Gloria’s death had ended. She turned toward Krissie. ‘I came in to see if you had any time to groom Millie on Thursday. That’s the rummage sale day, and it’s going to be hectic. I don’t want to leave Millie at home but I don’t want her in the church hall, either. I thought we might combine events.’
Krissie’s eyes shifted to Millie. She appeared to be mentally clipping and shearing as she stared at her from the front then walked around to view her from the side. ‘Thursday. That’s the day after tomorrow. Let’s look at the book. She sure does need grooming, poor little thing.’
Mary didn’t think Millie needed a haircut that badly, and she certainly wasn’t a ‘poor little thing.’ She brushed her daily and, since she wasn’t going to a dog show soon, or ever, a little long hair didn’t seem so bad. But she probably would be more comfortable, and it would be a safe place for her to spend Thursday. Mary followed Krissie to the grooming room, John trotting along behind. Krissie placed the little dog into a crate, telling him she’d be with him shortly, then pulled a book out of a drawer in a counter along the back wall. Millie immediately stuck her nose in the grill on the crate. Commiserating with the dog? Mary wasn’t sure, but that thought was interrupted by Krissie.
‘I can take her at ten.’
‘Oh.’ Mary’s face fell. ‘I’ll never be able to leave and get her over here at that time. Can you take her earlier?’
Krissie shook her head. ‘I have two at nine and I can’t get here any earlier. I’m sorry.’
‘I’ll come get her. How about if I pick her up at the community hall about eight? I’ll be in the shop by then, anyway. I don’t open till ten but I’m always here earlier, feeding, cleaning, that kind of thing. Would that work?’
‘John, you’re a saint.’
He turned a rather becoming shade of red. ‘I somehow doubt that.’
Mary smiled. ‘How about a really good friend.’
John laughed. ‘I can go along with that.’ He paused. ‘What time does the sale end?’
‘We open the doors at eight and close them at three. Why? Is that going to be a problem?’
‘Hmmm. Let’s see. Krissie leaves about two; I have to be at the hospital no later than three. They have a surgery scheduled I’ve done a hundred times and no one else seems to know what to do. I’ll leave here about two thirty and will have to lock the shop for a while. Glen can’t get here until four. Do you still have the key I gave you?’
Mary nodded. ‘I meant to give it back but forgot.’
‘Good. Then when I leave, I’ll put Millie in one of the crates until you can get here. Come in the back way so no one will think you’re opening the store. That will save you some grief.’
Mary laughed. ‘That’s perfect. Thank you.’
The bell on the door rang. Millie lifted her head, left the dog in the crate and started out toward it.
‘Oh, no you don’t. John doesn’t need any help.’ Mary gathered up Millie’s leash and motioned for her to sit. She did.
The bell rang again, indicating the customer had left. ‘Oh, dear, I hope I didn’t lose you a customer.’
‘It was Mrs Duxworth. The one who makes the beautiful quilts. She came in, did a quick look round and left. Odd. They don’t have any animals, do they?’ From where Krissie stood, behind the grooming table, she had a clear view of the front door. Puzzled, she looked from John back to Mary. ‘What do you suppose she wanted?’
John shrugged. ‘Poor thing. She always looks so sad. She was in here one day, petting a kitten. You could tell she really wanted it. Her husband came in … you know, the one who works at the grade school, and reamed her out good. I guess he does it on a regular basis. If Glen treated me that way …’
‘Glen never would.’ Mary smiled at John, who smiled back, a tender and confident smile.
‘No. He never would.’
‘Is it true he sells off her quilts and doesn’t give her any of the money?’ Krissie sounded personally affronted that anyone would do such a thing.
Mary thought it had happened to many women over the years and, in some areas, still did, but that didn’t make it less disgusting.
‘I hadn’t heard that,’ Mary said slowly. She surprised herself by how readily she accepted that it might be true. Caleb acted as if he thought Lorraine’s opinion didn’t matter or that anything she did didn’t have much value. Evidently he’d found value in something, but if Krissie was right, it didn’t sound as if Lorraine would get much credit for it, let alone any money. ‘How do you know that?’
‘My mother quilted before her hands got so bad. I still know some of the Quilting Bees. One of them was telling me after church a while back.’
John snorted. ‘That’s only half of that story. Her husband has a couple of accounts at the bank but her name isn’t on them. He gives her an allowance. What a guy.’
Krissie and Mary both stared at John, at a loss for words.
‘In this day and age, can you even imagine?’ Disgust was in every word Krissie uttered.
Mary couldn’t. It would never have occurred to her, or to Samuel, that she wouldn’t have been an equal partner in their marriage, in every way. ‘Are you sure?’
John nodded. ‘I’m sure.’
Krissie knelt down and lifted the little dog out of the crate. ‘I don’t want to seem rude but I’ve got to get Poochie done. What with the radio telling about Mrs Sutherland’s death and then John and me talking, I’m way behind. Don’t worry about Millie. I’ll make sure she looks beautiful for you.’ She smiled at Mary, wiggled her fingers at Millie and set Poochie on the grooming table. She was crooning to him, laughing and running her fingers up and down his little spine as John and Mary walked back to the checkout counter.
‘What do you think really happened?’ The expression on John’s face was a mix of worry and vexation. ‘I can’t believe any of this. First Miss Emilie, the sweetest thing that ever lived, and now Gloria.’ He paused then lowered his voice to almost a whisper. ‘Do you think there’s a connection?’
‘For heaven’s sake, John. We don’t know what happened to Gloria. We’re not completely sure what happened to Miss Emilie and we definitely don’t know why. Right now we have to wait and see what Dan finds out.’
‘What about the money?’ He spoke so low she could barely hear. ‘We know Miss Emilie took out a whole lot of money the last few months and it’s gone. Do you think Gloria took it?’
Mary wasn’t sure she hadn’t, but she wasn’t going to speculate about it with John. There were all kinds of odd things going on. Mary had no idea what was important and what wasn’t, and as fond of John as she was, he loved to gossip. Rumors might be flying but she wasn’t about to lend any of them wings.
‘Millie and I have to drop in on Luke,’ she said, picking up her tote bag and gathering up Millie’s leash. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind picking her up Thursday morning? It will be such a help. I won’t have to worry about her and she’ll come home nice and clean.’
‘Also beautiful. I don’t mind a bit. Why are you going to see Luke?’
‘The Friends of the Library book sale is almost upon us and I haven’t done one thing. I need to get it organized. As I’m not scheduled this afternoon, I thought I’d have a look at the books already donated.’
‘Tell Luke I said “hi.”’
The bell over the door sounded and a young man walked through, holding a little boy of about three by the hand. ‘We wondered if you have any of those little turtles for sale.’
‘Oh, dear.’ The worried look on John’s face was back, intensified as he looked at the child. ‘For this young man?’
The father nodded.
John took a deep breath and let it out slowly, while trying to smile. ‘Turtles are very fragile. Perhaps something a little less …’
Mary smiled as she and Millie left. She couldn’t imagine what animal John could substitute that would make the child happy and continue to live. Three-year-olds weren’t known for their gentleness. A goldfish? Probably not.
‘Mary.’
The voice sounded loud, clear and very upset. Lorraine stood across the street, hailing her. Mary stopped, startled. It was almost as if Lorraine had been waiting for her, but why would she do that?
‘Wait up, can you?’
Maybe she had been. Mary stopped and waited for Lorraine to get to her. ‘Are you all right?’
Lorraine didn’t look all right. She looked frazzled. Her hair was combed but it looked as if she’d run one through it without looking in the mirror. It lay at odd angles on her scalp, with little wisps swaying slightly in the light mid-morning breeze. Her cardigan sweater wasn’t buttoned over her long-sleeved T-shirt. Instead, she clutched it around her as if it was a shawl. Her blue eyes were tinged with red as if she’d been crying. Mary sighed. Lorraine had heard about Gloria.
‘No … yes … oh, Mary, I don’t know. Is it true? Did someone kill Gloria too?’ Lorraine moved in, so close Mary stepped back a little, barely avoiding Millie.
The dog sat close to Mary’s leg, as usual, looking at Lorraine with obvious curiosity and not a little trepidation. Millie wasn’t used to seeing people on the edge of collapse.
Mary tried to keep her tone as soothing as possible for both their sakes. ‘It’s true Gloria is dead, but killed? That we don’t know.’
Lorraine stared at her, mouth going but no words coming out. Finally she whispered, ‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know for sure. She was found this morning down in the ravine across the street from her house, dead. She had … a lot of bruises and a head injury. From what I heard, nothing that wasn’t consistent with losing her balance and falling down the hill. The police are looking into it now.’
Lorraine didn’t exactly relax but her hands didn’t clutch the edges of her sweater as tightly, and her lips no longer seemed to be drawn over her teeth in as tight a line. ‘It might have been an accident? She might not have been murdered?’
‘No one I’ve talked to has used the word murder.’ Mary said this with a firmness based on truth. No one had used that word. That it was implicit in every word Ellen uttered was another thing altogether.
Lorraine eased a little more, her eyes calmer, but her forehead was still creased with what had to be worry. ‘So we wait until the police say what happened?’ Her voice sounded a little stronger.
Mary nodded. ‘That’s all we can do. That and not listen to rumors. They’re flying around here thicker than flies at a barbeque.’
Lorraine took a breath that sounded like it might have been the first one she’d taken all day. ‘All right.’
Mary took a step but Lorraine put out her hand. ‘There’s something else.’
Oh, Lord. What else could there possibly be? Mary smiled slightly and waited.
‘The dog. Willis. Miss Emilie’s stuffed dog.’ Lorraine’s slightly wild-eyed look was back. ‘Do you know where it is? Did it ever turn up?’
Mary almost blurted out that she did indeed know where the dog was, but stopped. ‘Why?’
‘Miss Emilie loved that dog so, and I thought no one else would want him. I thought if you knew where he was, I’d wash him up, you know, repair him if he needed it, and we could bury it with her.’
It wasn’t often someone left Mary McGill without words, but Lorraine Duxworth had done it this time. Bury a stuffed animal with a woman well into her eighties. It was ludicrous. Of course, Miss Emilie didn’t seem to realize he wasn’t real, and she did love the blasted thing. Maybe …
Mary would have to think about it. She’d also have to think about how to put this without lying. ‘I don’t think it’s in the community hall,’ she said slowly, ‘but it may turn up. I’ll keep my eye out for it and won’t let it be sold on Thursday if it does.’
There. That was all true, but it didn’t seem to make Lorraine feel any better. She still looked as if she was going to break back out in tears any minute. She didn’t move, only stood clutching her sweater and blinking her eyes. Finally she said, ‘I have to go. Caleb’s coming home for lunch and he likes it on the table when he gets there. I have to get something for Cassandra and Richard, too.’ She looked around, as if making sure no one but Mary could hear her. Her whisper was loud and raspy. ‘I hated Gloria Sutherland. She was a conniving and deceitful woman.’ She turned as if to leave but swung back to face Mary. ‘If you find that dog, you will let me know?’ The anxiety in her voice and in her eyes was palpable. ‘I keep thinking of her, lying in her coffin without that dog, and it just breaks my heart.’
This time, shoulders hunched as if trying to withstand a strong wind, she walked away.
‘Millie, do you have any idea what’s going on? Because I sure don’t.’ Mary sighed as Lorraine disappeared around the corner. ‘Bury the dog with Miss Emilie? Breaks her heart? She doesn’t make any more sense than anything else around here. Except that she hated Gloria. I’ll bet she did, but I can’t quite see her pushing Gloria over the bank and watching her roll down the hill. I don’t know. Come on.’ Mary hitched her tote securely on her shoulder and started forward, Millie on her feet, trotting beside Mary. ‘It’s time we got some real information. We’re going to the police station. Luke and the books will just have to wait.’