and the like. Miss Nora had her lawyers working on a loophole to stop the payments.”
Frank’s heart beat a little bit faster. “You said Mr. Duncan was here as well.”
“Yes, the younger brother, Stanley,” Zelma offered.
The sheriff detected a hint of pink in her cheeks—even a flash of fear in her eyes—at the mention of Stanley’s name.
Zelma folded her hands on the table, and he saw they were trembling. “Miss Nora turned him away, too. Only he came again this morning,” she said, and her voice shook. “He tore up the place looking for money.”
Frank stopped writing. “So there was bad blood between him and Eleanora?”
Zelma nodded. “The younger Mr. Duncan was the black sheep of the family, Miss Nora called him. Mr. Marvin, now there was a fine man. Worked hard all his life for every penny he earned. But Mr. Stanley didn’t like to sweat. He depended on his brother for everything.” Zelma grimaced. “When the younger Mr. Duncan ran through what Mr. Marvin had left him, Miss Nora paid him off, just to keep him away. But yesterday when he showed up, she told me she was finished with him. She was cutting him off cold.”
Zelma sniffled. “But he did come back, and if it wasn’t for Mrs. Evans showing up when she did, he would have torn up the whole house and not just the library.” The woman’s owlish eyes fixed on him again, looking petrified. “He said he’ll be back, Sheriff, that he won’t let me rest until he gets what he wants.”
The sheriff hardly heard the last part of it. His ears had ceased listening when he’d heard the words “Mrs. Evans.”
He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Evans was here earlier?”
Zelma nodded.
Frank pursed his lips. Didn’t that woman ever stay home?
“And thank God for her, too,” the housekeeper told him. “She chased him off. Threatened to call you up and turn him in.”
“Right,” Frank said dryly.
“Is there anything else, Sheriff?” Zelma was biting at her lip as if she might burst into tears.
“Just one more thing, ma’am, and then I’ll go,” he said. “Did Miss Nora ask you where the goose liver had come from?”
“No.” Zelma sounded repentant. “She wouldn’t have eaten a bite if she’d realized Miss Jean had brought it over, so I didn’t say a word. I didn’t figure there was any harm in it. Despite what Miss Nora believed, I rather liked Miss Jean. I didn’t blame her for what happened to Jim.” Her teeth gnawed her bottom lip. “If I’d have mentioned where it came from, Miss Nora never would’ve eaten any of it. She would have made me throw it all away. Oh, dear!”
Zelma sobbed, and Biddle glanced up at her from his notepad. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
“Please, Sheriff, I’m not feeling so good all of a sudden.” The woman pushed up her glasses to dab at her eyes with her apron. “It’s just that I’m so tired. I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m not used to being alone, and poor Lady howled until morning.”
He tucked the pencil and pad into his shirt pocket. “You’ve been real helpful, ma’am. If you don’t mind, though, I’d like to take another look around.”
Zelma struggled to her feet. “Might I go lay down? I’m feeling dizzy.”
Frank nodded. “Please don’t worry about me. I can let myself out when I’m done.”
The old girl disappeared as fast as she could shuffle out, and Frank didn’t waste a single second. He pulled on a pair of disposable gloves before opening up the cabinets under the sink. That was where his Sarah kept everything, from dishwashing liquid to carpet cleaner to pot scrubbers and insecticides.
He found a trash bag from a box set against the drainpipe then dropped in a few cans and bottles of poisons aimed at killing any kind of bug infestation.
Frank hated to admit it, but maybe Helen Evans wasn’t so off base after all. Maybe there was more to this case than the obvious.
If the food Jean had left for Eleanora had been in the refrigerator all of
Frank’s heart beat a little bit faster. “You said Mr. Duncan was here as well.”
“Yes, the younger brother, Stanley,” Zelma offered.
The sheriff detected a hint of pink in her cheeks—even a flash of fear in her eyes—at the mention of Stanley’s name.
Zelma folded her hands on the table, and he saw they were trembling. “Miss Nora turned him away, too. Only he came again this morning,” she said, and her voice shook. “He tore up the place looking for money.”
Frank stopped writing. “So there was bad blood between him and Eleanora?”
Zelma nodded. “The younger Mr. Duncan was the black sheep of the family, Miss Nora called him. Mr. Marvin, now there was a fine man. Worked hard all his life for every penny he earned. But Mr. Stanley didn’t like to sweat. He depended on his brother for everything.” Zelma grimaced. “When the younger Mr. Duncan ran through what Mr. Marvin had left him, Miss Nora paid him off, just to keep him away. But yesterday when he showed up, she told me she was finished with him. She was cutting him off cold.”
Zelma sniffled. “But he did come back, and if it wasn’t for Mrs. Evans showing up when she did, he would have torn up the whole house and not just the library.” The woman’s owlish eyes fixed on him again, looking petrified. “He said he’ll be back, Sheriff, that he won’t let me rest until he gets what he wants.”
The sheriff hardly heard the last part of it. His ears had ceased listening when he’d heard the words “Mrs. Evans.”
He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Evans was here earlier?”
Zelma nodded.
Frank pursed his lips. Didn’t that woman ever stay home?
“And thank God for her, too,” the housekeeper told him. “She chased him off. Threatened to call you up and turn him in.”
“Right,” Frank said dryly.
“Is there anything else, Sheriff?” Zelma was biting at her lip as if she might burst into tears.
“Just one more thing, ma’am, and then I’ll go,” he said. “Did Miss Nora ask you where the goose liver had come from?”
“No.” Zelma sounded repentant. “She wouldn’t have eaten a bite if she’d realized Miss Jean had brought it over, so I didn’t say a word. I didn’t figure there was any harm in it. Despite what Miss Nora believed, I rather liked Miss Jean. I didn’t blame her for what happened to Jim.” Her teeth gnawed her bottom lip. “If I’d have mentioned where it came from, Miss Nora never would’ve eaten any of it. She would have made me throw it all away. Oh, dear!”
Zelma sobbed, and Biddle glanced up at her from his notepad. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
“Please, Sheriff, I’m not feeling so good all of a sudden.” The woman pushed up her glasses to dab at her eyes with her apron. “It’s just that I’m so tired. I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m not used to being alone, and poor Lady howled until morning.”
He tucked the pencil and pad into his shirt pocket. “You’ve been real helpful, ma’am. If you don’t mind, though, I’d like to take another look around.”
Zelma struggled to her feet. “Might I go lay down? I’m feeling dizzy.”
Frank nodded. “Please don’t worry about me. I can let myself out when I’m done.”
The old girl disappeared as fast as she could shuffle out, and Frank didn’t waste a single second. He pulled on a pair of disposable gloves before opening up the cabinets under the sink. That was where his Sarah kept everything, from dishwashing liquid to carpet cleaner to pot scrubbers and insecticides.
He found a trash bag from a box set against the drainpipe then dropped in a few cans and bottles of poisons aimed at killing any kind of bug infestation.
Frank hated to admit it, but maybe Helen Evans wasn’t so off base after all. Maybe there was more to this case than the obvious.
If the food Jean had left for Eleanora had been in the refrigerator all of
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