Chapter Nine

She may have slept as deeply as I, or she might have stayed awake all night looking for bed bugs. I’ll never know. I woke up eight hours later and opened my eyes to see her fully dressed and made up, speaking softly into the telephone.

I turned over on my stomach and considered trying to go back to sleep, but the rings in my pocket made that an uncomfortable possibility. I scooted across Mother’s bed and retrieved my new faux silk undies and my old real denim jeans from the chair and headed for the shower.

Cassie was just beginning to stir when I came out of the bathroom and Mother was hanging up the phone.

“What say we check out the newspaper office for some back issues?” I asked as I started gathering up my things and tossing old candy wrappers in the trash.

“I have copies of their obituaries, if that’s what you mean.”

“I was thinking more in terms of before—like when Abigail collapsed and was taken to the hospital. Was that in the paper?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Someone, certainly William, would have shown it to me at the time. We can check. I think I have one at home.”

By the time we got back on the Interstate, it was nearly one o’clock in the afternoon. I pulled around an eighteen-wheeler as it slowed going up a hill.

“Do we need to do anything else before we leave the area? How about the death certificates?”

“Well, as the next of kin, I guess I can request Abigail’s by mail. I don’t know how we could get William’s even if we tried in person.”

“Okay! Meadowdale Farm, here we come!”

Cassie asked the perennial childhood question with a smirk. “How much farther, Mom?”

“It’s for sure we are not almost there. I guess about a little less than two hours. What do you think, Mother?”

“About that. Are you all ready to hear about my sleuthing this morning or do you want to listen to the radio?”

“Oh, my gosh, Gran, we forgot about your phone calls! Of course we want to hear.”

“Wait, Mother, before you start. This time we have to take notes. Cassie, there’s a legal pad and pencil.…”

“I found it. Okay, Gran, shoot.”

“First, I called Abigail’s friend from the telephone office where she used to work. I thought that she would be the one I could be the most candid with. Her name is Mildred Jean Anderson, and she lives just outside of Lanierville. She was happy to hear from me. I saw her at the funeral, but we didn’t have a chance to talk. Unfortunately, her husband has been very ill this last year, so she had not seen Abigail for some time before she died.”

Cassie groaned, “I need some caffeine if I’m going to stay awake for this.”

We still had some drinks in the cooler. They were swimming around in cold ice water, but Cassie managed to fish out one for each of us. I sipped a cold Coke as Mother continued.

“Mildred Jean did keep in touch with weekly phone calls. She said Abigail always sounded happy and upbeat. Abigail cheered her up when Mildred Jean was worried about her husband. She had lots of advice about doctors and treatment. Apparently her husband had a heart condition similar to William’s. Abigail had said she would love to come and visit, but William was not well enough to drive, and her eyesight was getting worse.”

“Just a second, Gran. What about Abigail’s eyesight? What was wrong with her eyes?”

“I’ve forgotten what it was called. Paisley, do you remember?”

“Yes. Abigail had macular degeneration. It’s an irreversible condition, and there is nothing that can be done to correct it. If she had lived two or three more years she would have most likely gone blind.”

“Oh my, how awful!”

“Yes, Cassie, dear, awful indeed. She had a small cataract in each eye as well. A surgeon removed the cataracts some time last spring, but it didn’t really make much of a difference. She was very disappointed.”

“Mother, did Abigail have any other health problems? Was she on any medication?”

“Nothing that I know about. She had a physical exam before the eye surgery. It was the first one she’d had in years. Abigail passed with flying colors—normal blood pressure, all lab tests normal. She was in fantastic shape for someone about to have her sixty-sixth birthday.”

“My God, Abigail was sixty-six? I can’t believe it. Then you must be sixty-something, too, Gran. Come on, tell us, how old are you, sixty-one, sixty-two?”

“Cheeky child! Never you mind.”

“Well, not that you look it, but you must be sixty. That makes me feel a whole lot better. If I look as great as you when I’m sixty, I won’t mind growing old. Cool! This is almost as good as the Fountain of Youth.”

I took a quick peek at Mother. She had a pleased little smile on her face, but I knew she hated discussing her age.

“What was Abigail’s official cause of death, Mother?”

“I honestly don’t know. I went to the hospital to sign the release so they could take her body to the funeral home, but I didn’t talk to a doctor or even a nurse, just a clerk.”

“Well, that’s one thing we have to find out ASAP. Cassie, make a note to call the Department of Vital Records and request Abigail’s death certificate. Okay, Mother, please continue.”

“Mildred Jean told me a funny little anecdote. She was spending the afternoon with Abigail one day last year before her husband got sick, and the Dibbers dropped by with some lasagna. Sue Dibber made a big deal out of how much trouble it was to make from a special old family recipe. Mildred Jean got the idea that they were trying to really impress Abigail and William, but when she offered to put it in the refrigerator for Abigail, she saw a store label that the Dibbers had forgotten to remove on the bottom of the container. She said it made her laugh and feel really creepy at the same time. She had meant to tell Abigail about the ‘old family recipe’ from Kroger but the Dibbers stayed longer than she could, and she forgot about it. That was the last time she saw Abigail alive. She was very tearful about it. She and Abigail had worked together for twenty years and had been very close friends. They were so close, in fact, that she wouldn’t tell me any more personal details of Abigail’s life. Anyway, that’s all I got out of her.”

“Hmmm” was my only response, as we three detectives lapsed into silence. I didn’t know what the others were thinking, but my mind was working at full speed in an attempt to fit the pieces of our puzzle together.