cousins on their fathers’ side. Third cousins once removed? Double third cousins? Jet lag kicked in and I was sound asleep and drooling when Fred pulled into our driveway.
“Let’s call Haley,” he said as we walked into the house.
I glanced at the wall clock. “It’s five or six o’clock in the morning over there.”
“Wake her up with the good news.”
But she was awake.
“We already know,” she exclaimed. “Aunt Sister’s already called. Tell Debbie and Henry that we’re toasting the baby with mimosas. More champagne than orange juice. Does he look like the twins?”
“He has a lot of black hair and he’s not smushed like some babies.”
We talked for a half hour. Thank God for Alexander Graham Bell and satellites. And credit cards.
Chapter
Nine
“Mrs. Hollowell?”
“Yes?” I didn’t recognize the woman’s voice.
“Is this the Mrs. Hollowell who was at Chandler Mountain yesterday?”
I set my coffee cup down so suddenly that coffee sloshed into the saucer and Muffin jumped off the kitchen table. Someone had found Virginia’s body.
“Yes.” I held my breath.
“Mrs. Hollowell, this is Betsy Mahall. We met yesterday at the Jesus Is Our Life and Heaven Hereafter church.”
The girl with the flowers. The murdered girl’s sister.
“Betsy, don’t tell me something else has happened.”
“Oh, no ma’am. Did I scare you? I’m sorry.”
“I just thought for a minute that you might be calling about my cousin’s wife. She’s still missing.”
“That’s what I heard.” There was a pause. I could hear children arguing in the background. “Just a minute, Mrs. Hollowell. Jamie, give Ethan back his Cookie Monster. Go get one of your own toys.” A pause. “Right now, Jamie. I mean it.” And then, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Hollowell. They know something is wrong, and all they’re doing is squabbling.
“No, nothing else has happened, thank God. What I called about was to see if we could meet somewhere today. There were some things I didn’t get to ask you yesterday about my sister. Some important things. And, also, I’ve got information that might help with your cousin.”
“Information about Virginia? You can’t tell me on the phone?”
“It’s a long story, Mrs. Hollowell. I can’t come all the way into Birmingham because of the children. My next-door neighbor can keep them for a while, but not all afternoon. And I hate to ask you to come to Steele. Do you think we could maybe meet in Springville? Maybe for lunch?” She hesitated. “I really wouldn’t ask you if it weren’t important.”
I looked at the wall clock. 9:15.
“Betsy, I just don’t know. I may have to go with my sister back up to Oneonta today.”
“Mrs. Hollowell, I really need to talk to you.” Betsy’s voice lowered and she almost whispered, “I’m scared about something.”
Scared? What in the world about? And why me? It didn’t make sense. I’d only seen the girl one time.
“Please?” A catch in her voice and a barely audible sniff. Betsy was crying.
That got me. The old schoolteacher help-the-kids-out mode kicked in.
“Where in Springville?” I asked. There went all of my plans for the day. The house was a mess. I needed to dust and vacuum. I still hadn’t done all of the washing or paid the bills that had stacked up while we were in Warsaw. So much for good intentions.
“You know where that bakery is right on the main street by the library?”
“The one that has some tables outside?”
“That’s it. They serve soup and sandwiches. Do you think you could meet me around twelve?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hollowell. Thank you so much.”
We said goodbye and I hung up wondering why in the world I had agreed to this. How could I help this girl? All I knew about her was that she was pretty, had long red hair, and was grieving for her snake-handling sister who had been murdered. Also that she was scared.
“What’s she scared about?” Sister wanted to know
“Let’s call Haley,” he said as we walked into the house.
I glanced at the wall clock. “It’s five or six o’clock in the morning over there.”
“Wake her up with the good news.”
But she was awake.
“We already know,” she exclaimed. “Aunt Sister’s already called. Tell Debbie and Henry that we’re toasting the baby with mimosas. More champagne than orange juice. Does he look like the twins?”
“He has a lot of black hair and he’s not smushed like some babies.”
We talked for a half hour. Thank God for Alexander Graham Bell and satellites. And credit cards.
Chapter
Nine
“Mrs. Hollowell?”
“Yes?” I didn’t recognize the woman’s voice.
“Is this the Mrs. Hollowell who was at Chandler Mountain yesterday?”
I set my coffee cup down so suddenly that coffee sloshed into the saucer and Muffin jumped off the kitchen table. Someone had found Virginia’s body.
“Yes.” I held my breath.
“Mrs. Hollowell, this is Betsy Mahall. We met yesterday at the Jesus Is Our Life and Heaven Hereafter church.”
The girl with the flowers. The murdered girl’s sister.
“Betsy, don’t tell me something else has happened.”
“Oh, no ma’am. Did I scare you? I’m sorry.”
“I just thought for a minute that you might be calling about my cousin’s wife. She’s still missing.”
“That’s what I heard.” There was a pause. I could hear children arguing in the background. “Just a minute, Mrs. Hollowell. Jamie, give Ethan back his Cookie Monster. Go get one of your own toys.” A pause. “Right now, Jamie. I mean it.” And then, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Hollowell. They know something is wrong, and all they’re doing is squabbling.
“No, nothing else has happened, thank God. What I called about was to see if we could meet somewhere today. There were some things I didn’t get to ask you yesterday about my sister. Some important things. And, also, I’ve got information that might help with your cousin.”
“Information about Virginia? You can’t tell me on the phone?”
“It’s a long story, Mrs. Hollowell. I can’t come all the way into Birmingham because of the children. My next-door neighbor can keep them for a while, but not all afternoon. And I hate to ask you to come to Steele. Do you think we could maybe meet in Springville? Maybe for lunch?” She hesitated. “I really wouldn’t ask you if it weren’t important.”
I looked at the wall clock. 9:15.
“Betsy, I just don’t know. I may have to go with my sister back up to Oneonta today.”
“Mrs. Hollowell, I really need to talk to you.” Betsy’s voice lowered and she almost whispered, “I’m scared about something.”
Scared? What in the world about? And why me? It didn’t make sense. I’d only seen the girl one time.
“Please?” A catch in her voice and a barely audible sniff. Betsy was crying.
That got me. The old schoolteacher help-the-kids-out mode kicked in.
“Where in Springville?” I asked. There went all of my plans for the day. The house was a mess. I needed to dust and vacuum. I still hadn’t done all of the washing or paid the bills that had stacked up while we were in Warsaw. So much for good intentions.
“You know where that bakery is right on the main street by the library?”
“The one that has some tables outside?”
“That’s it. They serve soup and sandwiches. Do you think you could meet me around twelve?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hollowell. Thank you so much.”
We said goodbye and I hung up wondering why in the world I had agreed to this. How could I help this girl? All I knew about her was that she was pretty, had long red hair, and was grieving for her snake-handling sister who had been murdered. Also that she was scared.
“What’s she scared about?” Sister wanted to know
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