only) aunt.
My mouth went dry. I uttered a series of uh s and deep sighs.
“I’ll be right there,” Skip said.
“Okay,” was the sound that barely left my throat.
There goes my nap time , I thought, as if that would be my biggest loss once I spoke to Skip.
I paced the small loggia between my family room and the bedrooms, knowing I had to tell Skip everything I knew, little as it was, about my middle-of-the-night pickup at the crime scene. I told myself over and over that I’d given Linda every chance to explain why she was there; it wasn’t my fault that I now had to resort to what amounted to snitching. For all I knew, I’d been obstructing justice by not talking to the police sooner.
The door chime, ordinarily a pleasant set of notes, sounded harsh and startling, as if I knew the police were on my doorstep. Skip had a key to my house, to use in case of emergency, or when I called and told him the fridge had especially tasty leftovers. Otherwise, he rang the bell.
“You might have a date,” he’d said, when I suggested he could come in unannounced at any time.
“Not in this lifetime,” I’d told him. “And don’t forget our deal.” (Skip and I had an on-again, off-again agreement that we wouldn’t try to fix each other up with dates. Beverly had refused to sign the “contract,” even figuratively.)
I opened the door to my handsome nephew, in khakis, a summer blazer, and a soft yellow tie with red specks that seemed to match his hair. I knew he was following the “dress as though you’ve reached the next step” rule of business—in his case, going for that DETECTIVE GOWEN plate on his desk. Somehow, I thought law enforcement would have its own rules about dress, but the small-town LPPD might have been exempt.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“I’ll get it. You talk.”
“I see you’re not going to make it easy on your old aunt.”
Skip’s smile said the opposite. “I’m here to listen,” he said, and then pressed the coffee-grinder button so that neither of us could hear anything. That got the laugh he wanted.
“Skip—” I began, feeling my face sag into a pleading expression.
“Actually, I am going to make it easy on you, Aunt Gerry. Maddie told me about your trip to the crime scene. Well, not that you knew it was a crime scene.”
I felt my shoulders relax even as my mind kicked into overdrive. “Maddie told you?”
“The next day. Neither one of us knew it might be this big a deal. It was an adventure to her.” I pictured Maddie, thrilled to report to her cop uncle about her own exciting nighttime excursion. “Apparently she slept through most of the trip and still doesn’t know exactly where she was, but when you called a few minutes ago, I put two and two together.”
“That’s what detectives do,” I said, mimicking one of his favorite phrases.
Skip came to the table where I was slumped, with two mugs of coffee. He set them down, then leaned over and gave me a long, soft hug. “Before we talk, where’s that private stash of ginger cookies?” he asked.
I loved my nephew.
Probably no other cop would have believed that I’d told everything I knew, that Linda hadn’t revealed an iota of why she was stranded at the crime scene. But Skip took it all in, nodded appropriately, and then gave me another hug.
“I guess that’s it. And, by the way, thanks for not asking me where my jeans are.” Skip ran his hands down the lapel of his new, business-casual attire, a bit embarrassed, I thought. Not a cool outfit, I gathered.
“I’ll bet they’re not connected at all,” I said. “Not your jeans. Linda and the homicide, I mean.”
“We’ll find out. But the time frame you’re giving me is pretty close to the estimated time of death, and there’s a chance she knows something, even if not consciously. Do you know if Linda’s home now?” My look must have worried him. “Just for questioning. I’ll try to keep you out of it.”
“You don’t have to go
My mouth went dry. I uttered a series of uh s and deep sighs.
“I’ll be right there,” Skip said.
“Okay,” was the sound that barely left my throat.
There goes my nap time , I thought, as if that would be my biggest loss once I spoke to Skip.
I paced the small loggia between my family room and the bedrooms, knowing I had to tell Skip everything I knew, little as it was, about my middle-of-the-night pickup at the crime scene. I told myself over and over that I’d given Linda every chance to explain why she was there; it wasn’t my fault that I now had to resort to what amounted to snitching. For all I knew, I’d been obstructing justice by not talking to the police sooner.
The door chime, ordinarily a pleasant set of notes, sounded harsh and startling, as if I knew the police were on my doorstep. Skip had a key to my house, to use in case of emergency, or when I called and told him the fridge had especially tasty leftovers. Otherwise, he rang the bell.
“You might have a date,” he’d said, when I suggested he could come in unannounced at any time.
“Not in this lifetime,” I’d told him. “And don’t forget our deal.” (Skip and I had an on-again, off-again agreement that we wouldn’t try to fix each other up with dates. Beverly had refused to sign the “contract,” even figuratively.)
I opened the door to my handsome nephew, in khakis, a summer blazer, and a soft yellow tie with red specks that seemed to match his hair. I knew he was following the “dress as though you’ve reached the next step” rule of business—in his case, going for that DETECTIVE GOWEN plate on his desk. Somehow, I thought law enforcement would have its own rules about dress, but the small-town LPPD might have been exempt.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“I’ll get it. You talk.”
“I see you’re not going to make it easy on your old aunt.”
Skip’s smile said the opposite. “I’m here to listen,” he said, and then pressed the coffee-grinder button so that neither of us could hear anything. That got the laugh he wanted.
“Skip—” I began, feeling my face sag into a pleading expression.
“Actually, I am going to make it easy on you, Aunt Gerry. Maddie told me about your trip to the crime scene. Well, not that you knew it was a crime scene.”
I felt my shoulders relax even as my mind kicked into overdrive. “Maddie told you?”
“The next day. Neither one of us knew it might be this big a deal. It was an adventure to her.” I pictured Maddie, thrilled to report to her cop uncle about her own exciting nighttime excursion. “Apparently she slept through most of the trip and still doesn’t know exactly where she was, but when you called a few minutes ago, I put two and two together.”
“That’s what detectives do,” I said, mimicking one of his favorite phrases.
Skip came to the table where I was slumped, with two mugs of coffee. He set them down, then leaned over and gave me a long, soft hug. “Before we talk, where’s that private stash of ginger cookies?” he asked.
I loved my nephew.
Probably no other cop would have believed that I’d told everything I knew, that Linda hadn’t revealed an iota of why she was stranded at the crime scene. But Skip took it all in, nodded appropriately, and then gave me another hug.
“I guess that’s it. And, by the way, thanks for not asking me where my jeans are.” Skip ran his hands down the lapel of his new, business-casual attire, a bit embarrassed, I thought. Not a cool outfit, I gathered.
“I’ll bet they’re not connected at all,” I said. “Not your jeans. Linda and the homicide, I mean.”
“We’ll find out. But the time frame you’re giving me is pretty close to the estimated time of death, and there’s a chance she knows something, even if not consciously. Do you know if Linda’s home now?” My look must have worried him. “Just for questioning. I’ll try to keep you out of it.”
“You don’t have to go
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