Murder by Proxy (6 page)
Authors: Suzanne Young
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Cozy, #Women Sleuths
“Yes, dear, I'm on my way home right now.”
“Edna?” Albert's voice, sounding confused. “Is that you, Edna?”
“Albert?” Surprised to hear from her husband in the middle of the afternoon, Edna was momentarily at a loss for words.
“What do you mean you're on your way home? Where are you?”
“I'm at the grocery store near Grant's house. I thought you were Karissa.”
Just then a young woman approached their table, stooping to pick Ernie's hat up off the floor. “Is this yours, sir,” she asked.
“Oh, yes.” Ernie said, retrieving the crumpled item from the woman. “Must have dropped it. Thanks.”
“Who's that?” Albert's voice sounded in Edna's ear. “Doesn't sound like Grant. Who are you with at the grocery store?”
She didn't want to go into a lengthy explanation right then, so she improvised. “Sorry, dear, but you seem to be breaking up. Let me get back to the house. I'll call you later.” Without waiting for a reply, she pushed the disconnect button.
Five
Edna agreed to let Ernie drive her back to the house, although she worried that either Karissa or Jillian would see her with him. If word got back to Grant, he would be very angry.
Really, I must have my own car
, she thought as they neared her son's address.
“Do you think you can scout around Office Plus for me?” Ernie's voice broke into her thoughts as he stopped in front of the house.
Guilt about being with him in the first place made her hesitate at the thought of sneaking around Grant's place of business, but only until she considered the missing young woman. She held a picture of Lia in her mind—had the funeral been only this morning?—and coupled it with the small photo of Anita that Ernie had given to her. Mentally, she put the two young women side by side with her own youngest daughter Starling. What would she do if Starling were missing? Edna's heart lurched.
Anita needs to be found. I don’t care what Grant’s motive is for keeping quiet or Ernie’s for tracking her, I want her found. I want to know she’s alive and well
, Edna thought.
Anxious to get away, but realizing there was still much she wanted to know, she said, “Perhaps I can arrange something. How will I contact you?”
“I'll have to call you. I'm in the process of changing my mobile service, and I don't have my new phone yet.”
“Do you have an office?”
“It's in the basement of my house, but I'm out most of the time. You won't get me there.”
“Don't you have an answering machine? I could leave a message.”
“My wife usually answers the phone, but she's been sick lately, and I don't want her disturbed. No, I'd better call you.”
Wondering if he were making himself purposely unavailable, Edna pulled a scrap of paper from her tote bag and scribbled down her cell phone number.
Pocketing the bit of paper, Ernie grabbed her arm as she was about to get out of the car. “I'll put a list together of things I want you to find out. Can you meet me back at Safeway in the morning, say around nine o'clock?”
“I'll try.” Edna twisted from his grasp and got out of the car. She hurried up the walk, entering the house quietly. She didn't want to disturb Karissa if she was sleeping, but she wondered if she might be watching from the bedroom window. Going directly to the kitchen, Edna had time to clean up the lunch dishes before Jillian came bursting into the house, calling, “I'm home” at the top of her lungs.
“Okay, okay,” Edna rushed to the living room, drying her hands on a small towel. “I think everyone in the neighborhood heard you. You probably woke up Karissa.”
“Nah, she doesn't sleep all that much. I'll go check.”
Before Edna could stop her, Jillian bounded down the hall and into the master bedroom, yelling, “Hey, Karissa. I'm home.”
Edna heard Karissa's answering voice but couldn't make out the words as she followed her granddaughter down the hall. Approaching the bedroom, she heard the two laughing and chattering. Unbidden anger flared at the sound. Michele should be the one in that bedroom. It wasn't fair. Edna's heart ached thinking of Jillian's mother not being there to listen to her daughter talking excitedly about her day at school.
It may have been these thoughts that caused her to speak more abruptly than she had meant to when she entered the room. “Jillian, quiet down. You know Karissa mustn't be agitated. Sorry, Karissa.”
Karissa said she didn't mind, she looked forward to seeing Jillian after school, but Edna said the child needed to get some fresh air after being inside. “Jillian, come with me. We'll go out and play. It's too nice a day to stay inside.”
Good naturedly, Jillian skipped from the room and went to change her clothes while Edna brought Karissa a cup of tea and some cookies. Then, donning a light windbreaker and her wide-brimmed hat, she went out to join her granddaughter in the backyard.
“Play Frisbee with me, Gramma,” Jillian shouted as Edna appeared on the deck.
“I'm not sure I can. I've never done it before.”
“I'll teach you. Come on. It's fun.”
Jillian spun the plastic saucer at Edna who, to the surprise of them both, caught the toy in mid-air. Laughing, Edna tried to throw it back but only managed to spin it sideways, slamming it into the ground.
“That's okay, Gramma. I'll show you how.” Jillian ran after the Frisbee before joining Edna in the middle of the yard. “See. Like this.”
For the next half hour or so, Jillian taught Edna how to flex and flick her wrist so the Frisbee would sail evenly and smoothly through the air. Once, the disc caught on a sudden breeze and was carried into the neighboring yard. Edna stood on tiptoe, looking over the wooden privacy fence, watching as Jillian entered the yard and threw the Frisbee back. The youngster was full of energy and soon had Edna panting with exhaustion.
“Enough,” she finally cried, laughing and stumbling toward the glider on the redwood deck.
Jillian came to stand before her, saying in her serious child's tones, “You're doing really great, Gramma. You can't stop now.”
“Thank you, Jillybean, but I need to sit for a minute. I'll play some more later.” Thinking of how she might get her granddaughter to calm down a little before dinner, she said, “If you'll bring me a pencil and some paper, I'll draw a picture of my cat for you.”
“All ri-i-ight,” Jillian shouted, drawing out the last word, as she went running into the house, returning moments later with a pencil, a spiral-bound notepad and several crayons clutched in her fist. Wiggling onto the glider next to Edna, she thrust the materials at her grandmother.
While Edna took the pencil and began to swipe a series of curved lines on the paper, she asked Jillian to tell her about school, listening to the child's description of her third-grade teacher, Mr. Cameron, and smiling to herself over stories Jillian told of her school friends. When the pencil drawing of Benjamin was finished, Edna took an orange crayon and added color to the cat's back and head.
“Is that really what he looks like?” Jillian took the picture onto her lap and studied it.
“Yes. He's a big ginger cat. Very friendly and very smart.”
“Did you get him when he was a kitten?”
“No. He was already a year old when he came to live with us. Your grandfather and I adopted him from an animal shelter.”
“I want a kitten.” Jillian stated firmly.
From the expression on her granddaughter's face, Edna wondered if she hadn't gotten into a conversation that had already been decided between Jillian and her parents. Taking the notepad, she flipped to a clean page and began to draw again. “Have you asked your daddy for a kitten?”
“Yes. No. Not exactly.” Jillian played with the zipper on her jacket, not looking up at Edna. “When Mommy was still alive, I asked for a dog, but they said no.”
Edna felt an overwhelming sadness when Jillian mentioned Michele. “Your mother was allergic to dogs and cats. Their fur made her sneeze,” Edna said.
“I remember.” The little voice was quieter now.
Trying to keep the conversation light, Edna said, “What else do you remember about your mother, Jillybean?”
“Everything.” Enthusiasm came back into Jillian's voice. “I hold her picture and talk to her every night before Daddy turns off my light. I tell her about school and stuff. I know she can hear me, even though she's in heaven and I can't see her anymore.”
The lump in Edna's throat kept her from responding. Instead, she turned the picture she'd just finished so that Jillian could see it. Edna had an artist's eye and a memory for detail, talents which had recently helped her to identify a murderer. Now these talents were being put to work to bring happiness to her granddaughter.
The little girl's eyes widened. “That's me and Mommy.” Smiling broadly, she looked up at Edna. “That's us, isn't it?”
“Yes, dear. That's you and your mommy.” Edna had drawn Michele's face from memory and, cheek-to-cheek, had added Jillian as she was today, with her reddish brown braids and a smattering of freckles across her nose.
Before Edna could stop her, Jillian jumped off the glider and headed for the sliding glass door, waving the picture. “I'm gonna go show Karissa,” she said, dashing into the house.
“Oh, no,” Edna moaned aloud, pushing herself up to follow her granddaughter. “Wait, Jillian,” she called, but the youngster was already down the hall.
As Edna entered the bedroom, she saw Jillian kneeling beside the bed. The child's stepmother, having to lie on her side most of the time, was holding the picture at arm's length and saying, “It's a wonderful drawing, Jilly. We'll have to get a nice frame to put it in.”
“Oh, yes. Can we?” Jillian looked over her shoulder at Edna.
Edna studied Karissa, worried that she might be upset at the image of Michele, but she needn't have been concerned. Karissa's look was soft and smiling. “Tell you what, Jilly,” she said to her stepdaughter, “after the baby is born, we'll all go shopping and pick out a perfect frame.”
“Awesome,” Jillian cried and, taking the picture, ran from the room.
“I hope you're not upset by my drawing,” Edna said by way of apology, sitting on the edge of a chair near the bed.
“Not at all. I think Jillian needs to keep her mother's memory alive as long as possible. It's a good likeness.”
“Oh, did you know Michele?” Edna had somehow supposed that Grant's two wives had never met.
“Not really. I met her once when she came to the office.” Without pausing, Karissa said, “You draw people so well. Did you take lessons?”
Realizing her new daughter-in-law wanted to change the subject, Edna told Karissa that she had been sketching faces since she'd been about Jillian's age. “I drew pictures to entertain my little sister when she broke her leg one summer and couldn't get out to play. I guess I just had a knack for it,” Edna said.
Not comfortable talking about herself, she bent to retrieve a couple of magazines from the floor beside the bed before rising and picking up the empty teacup and cookie plate. She was grateful that Karissa seemed so understanding of Jillian's need to remember her mother. “Can I get you anything else before I start dinner?”
“No, thanks. I feel guilty having you wait on me like this.”
Edna smiled. “Don't you bother about it. After all, that's what I'm here for. Take advantage of it while you can. You'll be wishing for more bed time once that baby of yours arrives.”
Karissa smiled and leaned back into her pillows as Jillian came bounding into the room again, carrying two dolls and a tiny suitcase. “Play dolls, Karissa?” she asked, climbing up onto the bed without waiting for a reply.
“Jillian, I don't think … ” began Edna, but Karissa stopped her.
“It's all right. I want to play. It gets pretty boring just lying here with nothing to do but read or watch TV. I've gone through all my magazines at least five times.”
Edna was about to suggest she bring Karissa a book to read when Jillian spoke up.
“You play too, Gramma,” she commanded, opening the little suitcase and dumping doll clothes and accessories onto the bed.
Looking at her watch, Edna said, “No. You two play. Your father will be home soon, and I've got to make supper.”
In the kitchen she rummaged through cupboards, looking for something to go with the hamburger she had taken out of the freezer that morning. She hadn't had to cook an evening meal in Grant's home yet and was anxious to make a good wholesome supper for the family. Grant had brought food home the last two nights, Kentucky Fried Chicken one night and pizza the next. Edna was ready for a decent meal, not something preprocessed and packaged on an assembly line.
She didn't find potatoes in the kitchen but did locate a box of white rice. The canned goods consisted of several varieties of beans, including chili, kidney, pinto and garbanzo. There were cans of tomatoes, too, mostly diced with jalapeno peppers. The shelves seemed full of items unfamiliar to Edna's typical type of cooking. Finally, she discovered a jar of beef bouillon granules and decided to make a meatloaf and serve it with rice and gravy. Spotting a head of lettuce in the refrigerator, she thought a leafy salad would do for their green vegetable.
Next, she looked through the spice jars but couldn't find much she was familiar with there either. Chili powder, Tabasco and two other kinds of hot sauce. There was oregano, but she wasn't making spaghetti. Where was the thyme or rosemary or sage? She didn't want to use salt, certain Karissa would be on a low sodium diet, so she finally flavored the ground beef with a dash of Worcestershire and some seasoned croutons that she crushed and mixed into the meat.
