Dead Jitterbug by Victoria Houston

over the previous three days, and why she had trespassed onto the McDonald property, Lew said, “Jennifer, you have no idea how helpful this is.”
    “I should have told you last night,” said the girl. “But I was so scared.” Tears welled in her eyes.
    “That’s okay, it’s okay,” said Lew. “The important thing is that we now know it was you who set off the alarm when you tried the door handle. That’s important. And the fact that you think you saw Mrs. McDonald sitting in the same spot for three nights gives me a better idea of when she may have been killed.”
    “Oh …” said Jill, “so it wasn’t suicide?” She had been serious before, now she looked frightened.
    “Very much not suicide,” said Lew. “That’s why I need to get from each of you a list of all the people you’ve seen coming and going through that gate. Or any unusual traffic on this road. Jennifer?”
    “No one in the last couple days,” said the girl.
    “What about her daughter?”
    “If you mean that Kitsy, the one with the tattoos? She hasn’t come to visit for a long time—like a couple weeks maybe.”
    Lew raised her eyebrows and looked at Ray and Osborne.
    “I wonder if we’re talking about the same person,” said Ray. “I don’t remember seeing any tattoos on Kitsy—and I saw a lot of Kitsy. What sort of tattoos, Jenny?”
    “The makeup stuff. Like her lips are tattooed red and her eyes—all those black lines are tattooed on.”
    Osborne and Ray looked puzzled. “How do you know that?” asked Osborne.
    “Oh, she showed me,” said Jennifer. “On Memorial Day I went over to fish, and she was on the dock in her swimming suit getting a tan. Mrs. McDonald was there, too. She was sitting in a chair reading. When she saw me, she invited me to visit with them—they got me a Coke.
    “Kitsy was reading People magazine and showed me this article about girls getting their makeup tattooed on. She asked me what I thought—then she showed me hers—like on her eyes and stuff. She said the tattoos are a lot less expensive than buying makeup.”
    “I wondered why you asked me about that,” said Jill, shaking her head. “Honestly. What next?”
    “She used to visit her mom a lot,” said Jennifer. “But not lately.”
    “She has her own house farther down the road, right?” asked Lew.
    “Jennifer,” said Jill, “tell Chief Ferris what you told me about Kitsy and her mother.”
    “Mom … do I have to?”
    “Jennifer is worried that she has been doing the wrong thing fishing over there,” said Jill. “And maybe she has—but she told me about something she saw and heard a couple weeks ago that I think—now that you tell me Mrs. McDonald didn’t commit suicide—could be important.”
    “Jennifer,” said Lew, “the lakes and the rivers are public property. You are allowed to fish wherever you please. On the other hand, why don’t you tell me how you get over to Secret Lake?”
    “The path behind their fence,” said Jennifer in a small voice.
    “Well, that is private land, but you’ve said that Mrs. McDonald was okay with your fishing over there, right?”
    Jennifer nodded.
    “Then you’ve done nothing wrong.”
    “So tell them, honey,” said Jill. “About the fight.”
    “I heard Mrs. McDonald get real mad at Kitsy, and I think that’s why I haven’t seen her go there since. See, she used to always drive in around four o’clock every day, and she doesn’t do that anymore.”
    “Where were you when you heard the fight?” asked Lew.
    “Fishing by the dock. You can hear everything if the windows are open.”
    “I heard it, too,” said Timmy. “They were screaming at each other.”
    “Any hitting?” said Lew.
    “I don’t know,” said Jennifer. “I couldn’t see anything. I just heard their voices. Mrs. McDonald kept screaming, ‘Get out, get out, get out.’ She was so mad. The other lady was crying, and she kept saying, ‘I’m just trying to help—please let me help.’ Kinda