Never Buried: A Leigh Koslow Mystery by Edie Claire

"is telling me it's time to eat again."
    "Oh my," Mrs. Rhodis said dramatically, breaking from her trance. "Can I get you something, honey?" She quickly rose from her seat.
    "Oh no," Cara said with a smile. "We've taken up too much of your time already. It's been fascinating hearing the story again—thank you."
    Mrs. Rhodis cackled. "Now, Cara dear, you know I'd give an arm and leg for a visit by two nice young ladies, especially some with fresh ears for me and my stories!" She tossed her head towards her husband's sleeping form, then leaned toward Cara conspiratorially. "God knows that one's heard 'em enough!"
    When Cara put her hand on the arm of the loveseat rocker and pushed herself to her feet, an ear-piercing shriek erupted from the floor. The poodle ran circles around her owner’s legs, creating a noise shrill enough to break glass.
    Cara went white with horror. "Oh, Pansy! Did I step on you? I'm so sorry!" She turned apologetically to Mrs. Rhodis. "I'm such an ox these days. I can't see my own feet, much less anyone else's!"
    Mr. Rhodis, whose capacity for deep sleep evidently had limits, rejoined the conscious and leaned over to scoop Pansy out of orbit. Once the dog was settled in his lap, the cacophony subsided.
    "Don't worry, honey," Mrs. Rhodis said kindly, her arm on Cara's shoulder. "Bud and I step on her all the time, poor thing!"
    Leigh tried, but failed, not to be slightly amused. Psychic, eh ?
    Cara offered the poodle a conciliatory scratch behind the ears, and Pansy accepted the gesture somewhat sulkily. Mrs. Rhodis looked at her pet with adoring eyes. "She's a spoiled one, that," she said. "It's a wonder she don't explode with all those table scraps Bud keeps giving her! Why, if she had to live on the piddling amount I feed her, she'd starve to death, poor thing. I keep telling Bud—"
    Mrs. Rhodis' voice trailed off as she headed back through the house to lead them out. Cara waved goodbye to Mr. Rhodis and followed.
    As Leigh turned to join them, Mr. Rhodis jerked his head and beckoned her closer with a crooked finger. "Pssst!"
    Leigh stepped to the side of the old man's chair and leaned down.
    "Don't you believe a word she says," he said in a rusty voice, giving Leigh a wink. "She gives this dog two Reese's peanut butter cups every day. Right in the middle of As the World Turns ."
     
     

Chapter 11
     
    Cara lay down on the couch as soon as they returned to the house, and Leigh started worrying. “I’m fine,” Cara insisted. “I just need to lie down for a while, that’s all. Later, we’ll search.”
    “ Search?”
    “ For the will, of course! Or whatever Paul Fischer hid here.”
    Leigh was silent for a moment. “Aren’t you just a teensy weensy bit afraid to take at face value the word of a woman who thinks her poodle should have its own psychic hotline?”
    Cara smiled and shook her head. “Pansy’s poor record with the daily number is immaterial. Adith Rhodis remembers every detail of that night like it was yesterday. Trust me.”
    Trusting people had never been Leigh’s long suit. As soon as Cara had eaten and lain back down for a nap, Leigh set out for her old stomping grounds—the University of Pittsburgh main campus.
    “ Pitt,” as it was affectionately called, was in the academic enclave of Oakland, on the opposite side of downtown Pittsburgh. Leigh turned onto Forbes Avenue with a sinking feeling.
    What was she thinking? No sane person drove into Oakland in the middle of a weekday. The Cavalier crept along for blocks in bumper-to-bumper traffic, narrowly avoiding the scores of students and white-coated hospital types who jaywalked with impunity. She couldn’t help watching the students, backpacks in tow, with a pang of jealousy. Her college days had been good ones. The journalism curriculum had been less than taxing, giving her plenty of time to waste with her two constant companions—Maura the Wonder Cop and Warren Harmon, future President of the United States. They were