Allie watched through a blur of tears as the police car drove out of sight. The blue lights on Sid’s squad car had a haze around them, lending to the feeling that this was a dream and nothing more. But it was real, and Allie didn’t know what to do.
For a moment, she thought of getting into the car and following them to the police station, but then she remembered Celia’s plea for her to call Stan’s parents.
She tried to think in sequence, tried to make some sense of all the whirling facts, and finally decided to go to the pay phone.
She needed to call Stan’s parents. She knew them from church. Stan’s father, a retired detective, was a deacon, and his mother was the organist. They lived on Bonaparte in that beautiful little house covered with jasmine and kudzu, and they had that dachshund that barked when cars drove by.
Why couldn’t she think of their names? Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd. Burt and Hortense? No, but close. Bart…and Hester…Hannah…Yes, Hannah!
She called for information and asked for the number, only vaguely realizing that she hadn’t needed their first names, for they were the only other Shepherds in Newpointe. She wiped the tears from her face as the phone rang, and after a moment, Bart answered.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Shepherd? This is Allie Branning. I’m sorry to wake you, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. Has anyone called you yet?”
“About what? What is it, Allie?”
“It’s Stan. He’s taken sick and is at the hospital in Slidell. He’s not doing very well.”
“Sick?” His voice was more urgent now. “Sick how?”
“He’s in a coma, Mr. Shepherd. I think you’d better come.”
“Where’s Celia?” he asked.
“She’s…she’s busy…all the turmoil, you know. I thought I should call.” She closed her eyes and told herself that it would do no good to tell them about poison and murder and interrogations…not yet.
“We’ll be right there, Allie,” he said quickly.
She hung up the phone and pressed her forehead against the wall. Desperately, she tried to think of the next logical step. What could she do for Celia?
Jill, she thought. She could call Jill, their good friend and the best lawyer in town. Jill would know what to do for Celia. Punching in her long-distance code, she called Jill. Jill, who frequently got calls in the middle of the night from drunk drivers who needed a lawyer, picked up on the second ring.
“Jill Clark.”
“Jill, this is Allie. If you’re lying in bed, you might want to sit up, turn on the light, and shake the cobwebs out of your head so you can hear what I’m saying.”
Jill hesitated a moment. “Allie, what is it? Are you crying?”
Allie took a deep breath and wished for a tissue so she could blow her nose. “Where do I start? Jill, tonight Stan Shepherd was poisoned with arsenic. He’s in a coma.”
“That’s not funny, Allie. Is this one of those jokes where you shock me with some horrible story so the real one doesn’t seem so bad?”
“No joke, Jill. And it gets worse. Sid Ford just took Celia in for questioning.”
“Celia?”
“Jill, remember in the hospital earlier this year when she told us her first husband had died?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“What she didn’t tell us was that he had died of arsenic poisoning, and she was tried for the murder.”
There was no answer on the other end.
“Jill, are you there?”
“Yes, I heard you.” The words came out strained, breathy. “Allie, are you sure of all this?”
“Yes. She said she wasn’t convicted, and when they let her go, she came here to live with Aunt Aggie.”
“So Sid assumes that she did this to Stan,” Jill said, as if talking to herself.
“I hate to say it, but it’s an easy assumption.”
“Easy, maybe, but not necessarily right. How long ago did they take her in?”
“A few minutes. They’re on their way to Newpointe. Aunt Aggie’s with her.”
“Good,” Jill said. “I’ll be at the station when they get there.”
“Thanks, Jill.”
“Allie, remember something, okay? Remember the Celia we know. Don’t jump to the same conclusions that Sid did. I’ve seen a lot of cases that aren’t as they seem.”
“Sure, I know. And she couldn’t have done it. She loves Stan.”
But even as she said the words, confusion was taking root in the back of her mind.