forty

Anya wandered into the kitchen and poured herself a bowl of cereal. When I asked about her agenda, she shrugged. “I have homework. I was thinking about just chillin’ on the sofa.”

Something was definitely wrong. Usually Saturdays were spent with Nicci at one of the local malls or the movie theatres. In fact, I couldn’t remember a weekend when the two girls didn’t get together.

“Anya? Do you want to talk? Is anything on your mind?”

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Can’t I want to hang out at my own house without being hassled by you?” Her voice was a perfect imitation of Sheila’s when my mother-in-law was in a snit. I thought about sending Anya to her room, but decided I didn’t want to pick a fight with her immediately before I went to work.

“The Detweilers invited us over for dinner tonight. I was thinking we could stop by and see your grandmother at the hospital. I think she’s coming home tomorrow.”

My daughter grunted.

“Okay. I’ll be home at five. We’ll leave as soon as I get here.”

Another grunt. I took that as a sign of progress.

“You sure you’re okay here alone?”

She glared at me. “Leighton is just across the yard. Gracie weighs more than most men. My mother packs a pistol and shoots people in the head. And my stepfather-to-be is in jail for murder. Who’s going to mess with me?”

“Right. Keep your cell phone close by anyway.”

The store was quiet when I arrived. Saturday mornings often were. Traffic would pick up as the day went on, so I started my circuit of the premises, straightening and replenishing our merchandise. While arranging a stack of Tim Holtz inks, a brainstorm hit me. The link went like this: Holtz … Hadcho. As in Detective Stan Hadcho. Why hadn’t I contacted Detweiler’s old partner and asked him for help? I fished my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed his number.

“I wondered when you’d get around to calling me. How’s Chad?”

I filled him in, as best I could. I told him about the Mapquest work I’d done.

“Not good. Not good at all. Patricia is the family wild child. But I can’t imagine her shooting Brenda unless Brenda attacked her. If that’s what happened, why not come forward and say the shooting was in self-defense?”

“Because it wasn’t. It was execution style,” I reminded him. That also reminded me why it was unlikely that any family member had killed Brenda. Unless, of course, the killer had consciously chosen to make the murder look like it had been an execution.

“Whatever. Patricia still could have done it. She knew Brenda was making her brother miserable. Chad told me that the two of them had gotten into a knock-down-drag-out fight at Brenda’s apartment. I guess Patricia lost all respect for Brenda and told her their friendship was done. Fini. Over. But if that’s what happened, why would Patricia frame her own brother?”

Good question.

“Someone had to have planted those bullets,” I said.

“Not bullets. Spent casings. The planter didn’t necessarily need access to Chad’s gun, but he or she did need access to spent casings.”

I understood what he was saying. “So it could be someone who was with him when he was at a shooting range.”

Hadcho’s next words came out as a growl. “Maybe Brenda’s killer is another cop.”