03 Murder by Mishap (5 page)

“Albert,” Edna corrected automatically. “He’s off with his pals for a week of golf.”

Benjamin bent his head to sniff at Hank who raised his muzzle so the two nearly touched noses. They’d become friends during the several months since Mary had adopted the canine and brought him to live next door. Hank had belonged to Mary’s friend Tom Greene who had been Edna’s handyman. Once chased and taunted by the dog, Benjamin now took an occasional ride on Hank’s back.

“Saw him drive off yesterday afternoon.
Didn’t see him come home.
Just wondered.”
Mary walked over to stroke Benjamin’s back. “So you’re
bach’n
it this week.”

“
’Til
next Sunday.
He should be home around lunchtime. Did you need him for something?” Edna hid her smile as she leaned down to rub Hank’s ears. She knew darn well Mary was only being nosey.

“Met the new neighbor?” Mary rested a hip against the car and crossed her arms over her chest. Edna thought her neighbor might have been considered plain, but for her lovely green eyes that were definitely the window to her soul. Guileless, Mary would never be able to hide her feelings. At the moment, she was not just a little curious.

“Not yet. The
Sharpes
must be relieved that someone finally bought their place. I sure am glad it won’t be standing empty any longer.”

She straightened as she spoke to look across the narrow macadam country lane at the house that was nearly half hidden by the tangle of lilacs and laurels growing in abundance along both sides of the road. The house wouldn’t be visible at all except the land sloped upwards and the building sat on top of the hill. A Prudential Gammons Realty sign had decorated the front lawn since the previous autumn when the owners moved out of town. In their hurried departure, they had not waited for the house to sell. Even Allen Gammons, the best realtor in the area, was unable to find a buyer as quickly as the
Sharpes
had wished. Local gossip and rumor jinxed the place, it seemed, and it was to Gammons’ credit that the place was finally off the market.

She turned back to Mary. “Have you met them?”

“’S not a ‘them’,” Mary replied. “New owner’s a woman. Been
tryin
’ to meet her, but she doesn’t answer the door. Seen her from a distance, is all.”

Edna swallowed another smile, knowing it was probably driving Mary crazy to have someone in the area whose acquaintance she hadn’t made and whose complete history was unknown to her. Giving Mary a chance to air whatever knowledge she’d gleaned so far, however, Edna asked, “Do you know anything about her?”

“Name’s Joanna
Cravendorf
.
I’ve gone over a few times and knocked on the door, but she doesn’t answer.
Keeps her curtains drawn, too.
Makes me wonder what she’s hiding.”

“Oh, Mary, you’re too suspicious.” Edna spoke lightly to take any sting out of her words. “It could be that she’s just busy getting settled in and doesn’t want to be interrupted.”

Mary gave Edna a “get real” look and snorted. “She’s been living there for almost three weeks.
Should be moved in by now.”
She frowned when she added, “She does her grocery shopping late at night. Why would she do that if she’s not hiding something?”

“I don’t know.” Edna was growing tired of Mary’s skepticism. “Maybe she’s allergic to the sun or maybe she’s simply a night owl and sleeps during the day. That would also explain why she doesn’t answer the door.”

Mary shrugged.
“Maybe.
I guess. But there’s something else suspicious about her. I can’t find her on the Internet. It’s like she doesn’t exist.”

Edna glanced at her watch and gasped at the time. “I didn’t realize it was so late. Sorry, Mary, I’d like to help you figure it out,” she said, knowing full well sarcasm would be lost on her neighbor, “but I promised some herbs to a friend. Her gardener will be here to pick them up in less than an hour.”

“Need help?”

“Sure, if you have the time. Aren’t you working at the hospital today?”

“My volunteer shift got changed. I’m on bookmobile duty and don’t have to be there ‘til after supper.”

Edna led the way along the brick path to the south side of the house. Benjamin jumped off the car and broke into a run while Hank brushed by Edna, trotting to keep up with the cat. Mary brought up the rear.

The side door of the house opened into a large mudroom where Edna kept small gardening tools, bags of potting soil and an assortment of pots, including peat pots for seed starters.
Goran
would be able to put pots and all into the ground without disturbing the plants’ roots again, she decided. By the time she’d grabbed what they’d need and returned outside, Mary was sitting on the weathered wooden bench with her face turned up to the sky, eyes closed.

Just as Edna was thinking she’d lost her helper to the cozy warmth of the late-afternoon sun, Mary’s eyes popped open and she smiled. “This was one of my favorite spots when I visited old Mrs.
Rabichek
. We’d sit here and she’d tell me all about whatever new thing she was going to plant that year.”

Old Mrs.
Rabichek
was “old crazy Mrs.
Rabichek
,” Edna thought, for planting so many poisonous herbs and shrubs on the property. Of course, they could also be used as natural medicines, if one knew how to use them properly, and providing one could determine the strength of whatever it was one was concocting. Potency changes from season to season, depending on rainfall, sunshine and soil conditions. These thoughts brought back unpleasant memories from the previous fall when Edna had been a prime suspect in the death of her handyman, and she quickly dismissed her thoughts with a shudder as she held out a trowel to Mary.

For the next half hour, the two women worked rapidly, filling tiny, organic pots with chive, parsley, dill and a variety of other herbs that had survived the winter beneath a blanket of straw. They were nearly finished and had a row of pots standing on the brick walk that bisected the garden when Edna heard the roar of an engine coming around the driveway. Hurrying to the front of the house, she was in time to watch a black-leather clad man dismount and remove his Darth Vader headgear.
Goran
Pittlani
balanced the helmet on the seat of his motorcycle before coming forward to greet her.

“Hey, Ms. Davies.”

Instead of replying, she continued to stare in astonishment at his mode of transportation. “How are you going to carry my plants back on that thing,” she blurted after considering the vehicle for a minute.

When
Goran
laughed, his eyes twinkled and vertical ridges deepened on either side of his mouth. “The saddlebags hold more than you’d think. I’ll manage. Show me what you got.”

More than a little doubtful, she motioned with a twist of her head. “This way,” she said and led him around the corner to where Mary was swiping dirt off the knees of her pants, having finished pressing the last sprig of lemon thyme into a pot.

Edna introduced them, and the two strangers stood eyeing each other while she studied the collection of newly-filled, little brown pots arrayed along the path. “Shall I put these in paper bags for you,” she asked, imagining dirt spilling out into the saddlebags.

“That’d be great.”
Goran
took his eyes from Mary’s for the flicker of an instant.  “Thanks.” His gaze returned to the red-head, who was an inch taller than he, and he smiled.

Amused that Mary seemed to be silently taking
Goran’s
measure as well, Edna went back to the mudroom and returned with a box of brown paper lunch bags. As she approached the pair, she heard Mary
ask
, “What sort of a name is
Goran
Pittlani
, anyway?”

The man shrugged and, without answering, noticed Edna approaching. With obvious relief, he held out a hand for the bags. “Let me help you.”

“Mary and I can do this, but I haven’t had time to get the mint. Would you dig some up? It’s over there.” She motioned toward what looked like a wild, overgrown patch along the stone wall at the back of the yard. “You can use this.” She’d made a container out of a slightly larger and heavier paper bag by rolling down a couple of inches at the top.

Grabbing up one of the trowels,
Goran
strode off to gather mint while Mary placed pots into bags and Edna carried them to the motorcycle. Before long he strode back around the house, reached his bike and, with a swift movement, flipped open one of the leather saddlebags and slipped his package inside. Without a word, he then accepted the small sacks Edna handed to him and stowed them away as well.

When Mary came down the path and handed over the last of the bundles, he picked up his helmet with a flourish. “Thank you, ladies. It’s been a pleasure.” Donning the headgear and starting the motor, he revved the engine a few times before holding up a gloved hand in farewell as he skidded along the broken shells in the driveway and disappeared onto the road.

As quiet returned to the neighborhood, Mary turned to Edna with a puzzled look on her face. “Didn’t you tell me he’s your friend’s gardener?”

“That’s right.”

“How come he doesn’t know the difference between lemon balm and mint?”

“What do you mean?”

“He had lemon balm in that bag.” With those words, Mary gave a sharp whistle. “Oops. I’m late.
Gotta
go.”
With that, she spun on her heel and strode across the lawn toward her house. She hadn’t gone far when Hank came running across the back yard, tail held high and wagging happily. Lifting a hand in farewell without turning around, Mary called over her shoulder, “Later.”

It was typical of her to toss out a verbal grenade and leave before she could be questioned further. Slightly exasperated, Edna shook her head and went to gather up the gardening supplies. Benjamin was waiting for her at the side door.

Chapter Five

After finishing her immediate chores, the most important of which was refreshing her cat’s food and water, Edna decided to take a long, hot bath. The morning’s strain on her back had been exacerbated by the afternoon’s bending and stooping. She’d soak her aching muscles and pour a glass of wine before deciding what to make for supper. On second thought, she poured the wine first and took the glass upstairs.

She’d just lowered herself into the warm, lavender bubbles of her bath, had leaned back and closed her eyes when she heard the phone ringing in the bedroom.

“Drat.”

Keeping her eyes shut, she told herself that the answering machine would pick up if the caller really wanted to leave a message. She let the hot water sooth her muscles until it began to cool. Finally, reluctantly, she stepped from the tub, toweled dry and slipped into a dark blue, velour robe. One of her pleasures when Albert was out of town was to put on something really comfortable—sweats were another favorite—and peruse the refrigerator and pantry for a pickup supper. This evening, she made a Greek salad with her favorite lemon and olive oil dressing. Along with garlic, she chopped and added fresh oregano leaves to the dressing from a pot on the window sill above the sink.

Taking salad and wine into the small office across the front hall from the kitchen, she sat at her desk to eat while she listened to the day’s phone messages and checked her e-mail. Benjamin, savvy to her habits, was already curled into a ball on the cushion of the guest chair beside the desk. As she had thought, the call coming in when she’d been in the bathtub was from Albert.

“Hi, sweetheart.
We had a good day today. Weather’s a little cool, but great for being out on the course. I’m about to join the boys for dinner, so I’ll call you when we get back to the condo.”

Edna almost laughed aloud. If her husband had shot more than a mediocre golf game, he would have told her his score, bragging a little.
Well
, she thought, taking a bite of salad,
this is only their first full day at the resort village. I’ll hear about the good shots in another day or two.

After eating, washing her dishes and cleaning the kitchen, she went into the living room to sit in her favorite wing-back chair, don the half glasses she wore for close work, and pick up her knitting. She was listening to an audio recording of “Middlemarch” by George Eliot and counting stitches in the tiny, forest-green sweater she was making for her newest grandson when the doorbell rang.

The clock on the CD player at her elbow read 7:43.

“Who in the world …” she pushed herself from the chair, frowning, and leaving her muttered sentence unfinished.

Before opening the door, she turned on the porch light and looked through the fisheye lens to see a young woman staring steadily back at her, obviously aware that she was being observed. She clutched a large manila envelope against her middle. Frowning with curiosity, Edna opened the door.

“I am
so
sorry to bother you,” the young stranger began immediately, “but may I come in for a minute?” Stepping across the threshold without waiting for an answer, she said, “My name is Jaycee Watkins. I just moved in across the street.”

Watkins?
Although she couldn’t recall the name Mary had mentioned that afternoon, Edna was certain it hadn’t been Watkins.
Perhaps a married name?
She figured the woman to be in her early thirties. Medium-brown hair was plaited into a single braid which hung a few inches below the nape of her neck. A few stray tendrils curled at her temples. Dark circles beneath her large, brown eyes were the only stains in an otherwise confident appearance. She stood in the hall, looking pleasant but unsmiling.