Eine Kleine Murder by Kaye George Page A

wouldn’t be too cold for Gram. She’d be out there—if she were still alive.
    Okay. So, if she had been killed, it would have happened right around this place.
    My cell phone trilled. It was Neek. The connection here was good and her familiar, calming voice came through clearly.
    â€œCress, I don’t think I’m going to be able to save that ficus. Have you ever watered it, even once?”
    Ficus. Oh yes. That stupid plant Len had given me.
    â€œMaybe not. I don’t like it much. Pitch it if you want.” I hated to kill living things, but this was one more reminder of Len.
    â€œWhere are you? Whatcha doing?”
    â€œWell, for starters, I haven’t thrown up yet.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œI feel lousy today, Neek. But right now I’m standing, well, I’m standing where Gram’s killer must have stood.”
    â€œWhat!? What on earth are you talking about?”
    â€œOh, Neek, I’m more and more sure she was killed.”
    â€œAnd why are you in the place where she died?”
    I told her how I had taken Gram’s boat and just ended up there. “I vaguely remember walking around this lake with Gram when I was very young. Grace complained about the footpath that leads over here. She said it wasn’t being kept up. I can see the path from here. And it’s weedy, all right.”
    My dim memory focused slightly. My mother and father were leaving on yet another road tour, this one for four months. I was four years old, and Mom made me put up four fingers, thinking a time period of four months would make sense to a child that young.
    The way I remembered it, I cried for days after they left. It may have only been hours, though, or minutes. The vivid part of the memory, surfacing now, was Gram scooping me up and driving me to this lake. We had walked on the footpath, the one I could see from the shore. I don’t know if we made it all the way around the lake or not, but the memory of holding Gram’s hand and the thrill of being in what I saw as wild woods was clear.
    â€œCressa, why did you go ashore?”
    â€œI’m not sure. I want to see it again. The place Gram died. And… think about it: if someone stood here, waiting for her to swim over, let’s see… Would she have gotten out of the water, or would she have turned around and swam back?”
    â€œWell,” Neek said. I could hear sitar music behind her. In addition to herbs and plants, she loved all things Eastern. “I’m thinking. Why would she get out of the water?”
    â€œYou’re right. She wouldn’t. Unless someone she knew needed her to. But why would they? It’s not all that easy to climb up here in broad daylight and it was night. It’s shallow here. So she stands in the water and, if she turns around to go back, she could be surprised from behind. From where I am.”
    â€œHow did the killer get there?”
    â€œThe path is probably not totally impassible. I’ll have to try it. And if Grace’s killer is the same person as Gram’s killer, they would’ve stood in the same place.”
    â€œGrace’s killer?”
    â€œOh, I haven’t told you.” I sagged against a tree trunk. “Grace was killed last night, just like Gram, in the same place—right here.”
    â€œThat’s the lady that was so nice to you? Your grandmother’s friend?”
    â€œYes, she and her husband have been super.”
    â€œI hope, at least, you didn’t find… I mean, I hope someone else found … They didn’t did they?”
    How did she always know? “No, no one else did. I’m the one who found her. Just like Gram.”
    â€œOh, Cressa,” she wailed. “I wish I had more days off. I wish I were there. I really do. This must be so hard for you.”
    â€œWell, it’s not easy. But you’re here on the phone with me. That’s almost as good. Help me with this, Neek.