Meredith Marshall, but a face he knew intimately: Mallory Osborne Miller.
Osborne whipped off the alarm and jumped to his feet. Ray would have to wait a few minutes. He had to call his daughter.
nine
Twenty minutes later, teeth freshly brushed, coffee percolating in his battered old Mirro pot and the party line finally clear so he could have a turn, Osborne stood in his kitchen, by the wall phone, and geared himself up to talk to his oldest daughter. He hoped his neighbors would accord him some privacy and not listen in.
Osborne let the Lake Forest line ring and ring. Finally, Mallory’s answering machine kicked in. Whispery clicks on the line made him fairly certain someone was listening. Oh well, Loon Lake had to hear about the tragedy sometime. He waited for the beep, “Mallory, it’s Dad. Please call me as soon as you can. It’s urgent, hon,” Osborne started to hang up. Suddenly he heard Mallory’s real voice.
“Dad? Hold on, let me turn this off.” As Mallory dealt with her answering machine, Osborne let his breath out in relief. Her voice was spirited and clear, not the slurred, slow cadence he’d come to expect when he called in the evenings. Mallory worried him these days. She appeared to be following a family tradition, one he was reluctant to discuss with her. Close as he was to his youngest daughter, Erin, he had always been distant with Mallory. She was Mary Lee’s child. It had always been so.
“Dad—you caught me running out the door for a tennis match. What’s up?”
“I’ve got some sad news, kiddo.”
“O-o-h …,” her voice tightened. He could feel her prepare herself, “not Erin or Mark or the baby, Dad?” She named her sister’s family.
“No, no, everyone is fine. An old friend of yours, Meredith Marshall, died yesterday.”
“Dad! That’s not possible. Tell me that’s not true—Meredith! We had lunch just a few weeks ago. She looked like a million dollars. Was she sick? What happened?”
“I found her, hon. I was fly-fishing the Prairie River last night, and I slipped and fell and stumbled over Meredith’s body …” Osborne paused. He hated saying even that much not knowing who was listening.
“Oh-h-h, she drowned, Dad. That’s just awful,” Mallory’s voice slowed as she processed the news. “And she was so happy. She had the divorce behind her. She told me she had a new boyfriend, a new business. She had this great joke, y’know. She said she had what every woman needs—a good lawyer, a good shrink, and an excellent hairdresser. She said she had it all. We had such a good time that day. Gee, Dad, I’m stunned.”
“It wasn’t an accident, Mallory,” said Osborne, “that’s as much as I can say right now. Don’t forget I’m stuck with a party line on this darn phone.” Looking out the kitchen window as he talked, he saw Ray’s truck pull up in the driveway.
“Meredith murdered?” Mallory’s disbelief was palpable over the phone line. “Dad, I’m catching a flight today. I’m coming up. She was one of my dearest childhood friends.”
“So you two have really stayed in touch?”
“Dad, we lived in the same town here. We belonged to different clubs, but, yeah, we’ve stayed pretty close.”
“What do you think of Ben—?”
“Ben? Well … I don’t know. Let me think about that. I know he’s got a cheap, sleazy girlfriend, but I don’t think Ben’s the type to kill anyone. Boy, now that’s something to think about. Oh darn, Dad, I’ve got to go. I’ll make some plane reservations.”
“Honey, there’s no reason for you—”
“Dad. I’ll be there. See ya.”
“Wait—Mallory!” Osborne tried to keep her from hanging up.
“What? Sorry I gotta rush, but I’ll call you later.”
“One question—does the name Clint Chesnais ring a bell?”
“Nope, never heard it.” Mallory hung up, and a series of two more clicks followed.
“Gosh, I hate this party line,” said Osborne grimly, setting his phone back on the
Osborne whipped off the alarm and jumped to his feet. Ray would have to wait a few minutes. He had to call his daughter.
nine
Twenty minutes later, teeth freshly brushed, coffee percolating in his battered old Mirro pot and the party line finally clear so he could have a turn, Osborne stood in his kitchen, by the wall phone, and geared himself up to talk to his oldest daughter. He hoped his neighbors would accord him some privacy and not listen in.
Osborne let the Lake Forest line ring and ring. Finally, Mallory’s answering machine kicked in. Whispery clicks on the line made him fairly certain someone was listening. Oh well, Loon Lake had to hear about the tragedy sometime. He waited for the beep, “Mallory, it’s Dad. Please call me as soon as you can. It’s urgent, hon,” Osborne started to hang up. Suddenly he heard Mallory’s real voice.
“Dad? Hold on, let me turn this off.” As Mallory dealt with her answering machine, Osborne let his breath out in relief. Her voice was spirited and clear, not the slurred, slow cadence he’d come to expect when he called in the evenings. Mallory worried him these days. She appeared to be following a family tradition, one he was reluctant to discuss with her. Close as he was to his youngest daughter, Erin, he had always been distant with Mallory. She was Mary Lee’s child. It had always been so.
“Dad—you caught me running out the door for a tennis match. What’s up?”
“I’ve got some sad news, kiddo.”
“O-o-h …,” her voice tightened. He could feel her prepare herself, “not Erin or Mark or the baby, Dad?” She named her sister’s family.
“No, no, everyone is fine. An old friend of yours, Meredith Marshall, died yesterday.”
“Dad! That’s not possible. Tell me that’s not true—Meredith! We had lunch just a few weeks ago. She looked like a million dollars. Was she sick? What happened?”
“I found her, hon. I was fly-fishing the Prairie River last night, and I slipped and fell and stumbled over Meredith’s body …” Osborne paused. He hated saying even that much not knowing who was listening.
“Oh-h-h, she drowned, Dad. That’s just awful,” Mallory’s voice slowed as she processed the news. “And she was so happy. She had the divorce behind her. She told me she had a new boyfriend, a new business. She had this great joke, y’know. She said she had what every woman needs—a good lawyer, a good shrink, and an excellent hairdresser. She said she had it all. We had such a good time that day. Gee, Dad, I’m stunned.”
“It wasn’t an accident, Mallory,” said Osborne, “that’s as much as I can say right now. Don’t forget I’m stuck with a party line on this darn phone.” Looking out the kitchen window as he talked, he saw Ray’s truck pull up in the driveway.
“Meredith murdered?” Mallory’s disbelief was palpable over the phone line. “Dad, I’m catching a flight today. I’m coming up. She was one of my dearest childhood friends.”
“So you two have really stayed in touch?”
“Dad, we lived in the same town here. We belonged to different clubs, but, yeah, we’ve stayed pretty close.”
“What do you think of Ben—?”
“Ben? Well … I don’t know. Let me think about that. I know he’s got a cheap, sleazy girlfriend, but I don’t think Ben’s the type to kill anyone. Boy, now that’s something to think about. Oh darn, Dad, I’ve got to go. I’ll make some plane reservations.”
“Honey, there’s no reason for you—”
“Dad. I’ll be there. See ya.”
“Wait—Mallory!” Osborne tried to keep her from hanging up.
“What? Sorry I gotta rush, but I’ll call you later.”
“One question—does the name Clint Chesnais ring a bell?”
“Nope, never heard it.” Mallory hung up, and a series of two more clicks followed.
“Gosh, I hate this party line,” said Osborne grimly, setting his phone back on the
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