but if he could show the good people of Catron County that he was using every possible means to solve the case, it might make a big difference come election day.
He looked at Karen Cox with a new appreciation. "Now that's an idea that warms my heart."
EDGAR cox found Margaret in the kitchen with Elizabeth and Cody, busily preparing Sunday breakfast. The Silver City paper was folded neatly on his place mat along with a steaming cup of coffee. A vase of
9 6 ■ Michael M c G a r r i t y
fresh-cut flowers formed a centerpiece. From the aroma in the room, he knew Margaret had cooked up apple pancakes, one of her specialties.
"What are we celebrating?" he asked, smiling at his wife and grandchildren.
"A beautiful morning," Margaret replied, wiping her hands on the seat of her jeans, the way she always did when she was cooking. She walked to her husband, gave him a warm kiss, and stroked his cheek with her hand.
Edgar studied her face. She wasn't hiding anything from him as far as he could tell, and she looked fine. He loved the tiny overbite to her mouth. And her long, elegant neck was as flawless as it had been forty years ago. Margaret wore her hair in a bun the way he liked it, which was usually reserved for very special occasions.
He asked the gnawing question anyway, his worry a tight feeling in the pit of his stomach. "How are you feeling?"
Margaret's expression changed to mild reproof. "The question is, how do I look?" she asked, her head held high.
Margaret at sixty-five amazed Edgar. With soft brown eyes that didn't miss a trick, full lips above a strong chin, high cheekbones, and pale skin, Margaret Atwood Cox was still a beauty.
"Gorgeous," he admitted.
"That's the right answer," she said, patting him on the cheek. "Now, go sit down, read your paper, and drink your coffee. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."
"Where's Karen?"
"Meeting Phil for breakfast in Reserve."
"Any particular reason?" he asked cautiously.
"No," Margaret said, turning back to the stove. "Just to visit and catch up, I imagine."
Mexican Hat ■ 97
With Cody and Elizabeth to distract him, Edgar didn't get to read the Sunday paper until breakfast was over and the dishes were washed and put away. When Margaret went to dress for church, he sat in his favorite chair in the living room and unfolded the paper. The front page blazoned the story of a murder on Elderman Meadows. Edgar read it with interest. His curiosity quickly changed to apprehension. He didn't know the victim. Hector Padilla, but he sure as hell knew Jose Padilla.
He got up from his chair and walked rapidly to the bedroom. Margaret stood in front of the full-length mirror, fastening her brassiere. He prayed she wouldn't need a mastectomy and that the lump was benign. And he hoped to God Jose Padilla was dead in the Silver City hospital.
Margaret saw her husband's face reflected in the mirror and turned. A small twitch at the corner of one eye telegraphed Edgar's anxiety. "What is it?"
"I have to go to Silver City."
"Why?"
"Business."
Margaret slipped into her blouse, her eyes locked on her husband. "What does that mean?"
"Just what I said," he replied. "Take yourself to church. Karen should be back before you need to leave."
"Edgar?"
"Yes?"
"What kind of business?" she demanded.
"Old family business."
Margaret took a deep breath. Edgar's phrase was the euphemism he used to talk about Eugene. "I'll go with you."
9 8 - Michael M c G a r r i t y
"I don't want you involved."
Margaret tucked her blouse into her skirt and walked to her husband. "It's forty years too late for that. Now, tell me what's wrong."
Edgar told her, and when he finished, Margaret wrote a note to Karen and left it on the kitchen table, so her daughter would know the clan was off for an impromptu Sunday drive and lunch in Silver City.
CHURCH BELLS TOLLED for late Sunday services as Kerney got up and dressed. He had time before Stiles was due to arrive. He walked the quarter mile to
He looked at Karen Cox with a new appreciation. "Now that's an idea that warms my heart."
EDGAR cox found Margaret in the kitchen with Elizabeth and Cody, busily preparing Sunday breakfast. The Silver City paper was folded neatly on his place mat along with a steaming cup of coffee. A vase of
9 6 ■ Michael M c G a r r i t y
fresh-cut flowers formed a centerpiece. From the aroma in the room, he knew Margaret had cooked up apple pancakes, one of her specialties.
"What are we celebrating?" he asked, smiling at his wife and grandchildren.
"A beautiful morning," Margaret replied, wiping her hands on the seat of her jeans, the way she always did when she was cooking. She walked to her husband, gave him a warm kiss, and stroked his cheek with her hand.
Edgar studied her face. She wasn't hiding anything from him as far as he could tell, and she looked fine. He loved the tiny overbite to her mouth. And her long, elegant neck was as flawless as it had been forty years ago. Margaret wore her hair in a bun the way he liked it, which was usually reserved for very special occasions.
He asked the gnawing question anyway, his worry a tight feeling in the pit of his stomach. "How are you feeling?"
Margaret's expression changed to mild reproof. "The question is, how do I look?" she asked, her head held high.
Margaret at sixty-five amazed Edgar. With soft brown eyes that didn't miss a trick, full lips above a strong chin, high cheekbones, and pale skin, Margaret Atwood Cox was still a beauty.
"Gorgeous," he admitted.
"That's the right answer," she said, patting him on the cheek. "Now, go sit down, read your paper, and drink your coffee. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."
"Where's Karen?"
"Meeting Phil for breakfast in Reserve."
"Any particular reason?" he asked cautiously.
"No," Margaret said, turning back to the stove. "Just to visit and catch up, I imagine."
Mexican Hat ■ 97
With Cody and Elizabeth to distract him, Edgar didn't get to read the Sunday paper until breakfast was over and the dishes were washed and put away. When Margaret went to dress for church, he sat in his favorite chair in the living room and unfolded the paper. The front page blazoned the story of a murder on Elderman Meadows. Edgar read it with interest. His curiosity quickly changed to apprehension. He didn't know the victim. Hector Padilla, but he sure as hell knew Jose Padilla.
He got up from his chair and walked rapidly to the bedroom. Margaret stood in front of the full-length mirror, fastening her brassiere. He prayed she wouldn't need a mastectomy and that the lump was benign. And he hoped to God Jose Padilla was dead in the Silver City hospital.
Margaret saw her husband's face reflected in the mirror and turned. A small twitch at the corner of one eye telegraphed Edgar's anxiety. "What is it?"
"I have to go to Silver City."
"Why?"
"Business."
Margaret slipped into her blouse, her eyes locked on her husband. "What does that mean?"
"Just what I said," he replied. "Take yourself to church. Karen should be back before you need to leave."
"Edgar?"
"Yes?"
"What kind of business?" she demanded.
"Old family business."
Margaret took a deep breath. Edgar's phrase was the euphemism he used to talk about Eugene. "I'll go with you."
9 8 - Michael M c G a r r i t y
"I don't want you involved."
Margaret tucked her blouse into her skirt and walked to her husband. "It's forty years too late for that. Now, tell me what's wrong."
Edgar told her, and when he finished, Margaret wrote a note to Karen and left it on the kitchen table, so her daughter would know the clan was off for an impromptu Sunday drive and lunch in Silver City.
CHURCH BELLS TOLLED for late Sunday services as Kerney got up and dressed. He had time before Stiles was due to arrive. He walked the quarter mile to
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