cops.”
“Please!” I made sure my laugh was light and airy. “A person doesn’t have to be connected
with the police to be curious. And you’ve got to admit, what you said about Susan
was bound to make me wonder what’s really going on and how much you know about it.
It’s like some really good book. Or a movie. I can’t help but want to know more.”
Behind the lace curtains in a front window, there was a light on, and Marci threw
a glance that way.
I was going to lose her, and this opportunity to learn what I could from her.
The thought pounded through my brain, and I folded my fingers into the palms of my
hands and wondered where I’d gone wrong at the same time I decided that there was
nothing like a little upping the ante on the gossip to keep the conversation going.
As if sharing a secret, I lowered my voice. “Susan told me—”
“What?” Marci flinched as if she’d been slapped. “Because if that bitch said one word
about me—”
“Your name never came up. But she did say that she thought Angela was a nutcase.”
“No big news flash there.” Marci shifted the shopping bag from one hand to the other,
and again, I heard therattle of glass. Whatever she was carrying, it was bigger than a drinking glass, smaller
than a pitcher. “But of course, Susan would say that. She’d do anything to make Angela
look bad.”
This didn’t make sense to me. “But Angela was donating the charm string to her museum,”
I blurted out, thinking out loud. “And Susan was grateful. In fact, she asked me if
I thought she might still get the charm string. If she was so appreciative, why would
Susan want to discredit Angela?”
Marci let go of the gate and it slapped closed. “Did you see the guy at the wake?
The one with the silvery hair?”
I had a vague recollection of a man at the back of the room who looked sadder than
the rest of the folks gathered there. “Larry?” I asked.
Marci nodded, confirming my suspicion.
“He’s obviously pretty broken up.”
Another nod sent her spiky hair twitching. “Larry’s a nice guy. Kind of quiet, you
know?”
“And he and Angela were dating.”
“She told you, huh?”
“She mentioned it when she came to the shop. She said Larry was the only good thing
that had happened in her life lately.”
“Yeah.” Marci chuckled. “On account of the curse! God, maybe for the first time in
her life, Susan is actually right. Maybe Angela really was a nutcase.”
“But that’s not exactly a reason Susan would want to kill her.”
Oh yes, I was fishing. For all I was worth.
Marci glanced around. We were the only ones out there on the street, but she stepped
nearer, anyway. “Larry’s the reason.”
“The reason Angela believed in curses? I don’t think so. She said—”
“Not the reason she believed in curses. The reason Susan hated Angela.”
I am not usually slow, but this took some thinking. “You’re implying—”
“Implying!” Marci punched open the gate and stepped onto the walk that led to the
front door. “I’m not implying anything, I’m telling you flat out. Susan and Larry
used to be a couple. That’s why Susan hated Angela so much. Angela stole him away
from her.”
I WASN’T SURE how well Marci was connected to the Ardent Lake gossip grapevine, but I did know
this much: at the funeral the next day, Larry looked positively inconsolable. He was
a tall, handsome guy and as we stood around the coffin at the cemetery, I made sure
I positioned myself directly across from him and watched his face twist with pain
as the minister read the last of the prayers.
“I’ll need to talk to him,” I said to Stan after we walked away from the service.
“But I’m thinking this would be a bad time.”
“There’s a luncheon.” Stan pointed to the line in the church program that invited
everyone attending back to the home of Angela’s cousin, Charles.
“You hungry?” I asked
“Please!” I made sure my laugh was light and airy. “A person doesn’t have to be connected
with the police to be curious. And you’ve got to admit, what you said about Susan
was bound to make me wonder what’s really going on and how much you know about it.
It’s like some really good book. Or a movie. I can’t help but want to know more.”
Behind the lace curtains in a front window, there was a light on, and Marci threw
a glance that way.
I was going to lose her, and this opportunity to learn what I could from her.
The thought pounded through my brain, and I folded my fingers into the palms of my
hands and wondered where I’d gone wrong at the same time I decided that there was
nothing like a little upping the ante on the gossip to keep the conversation going.
As if sharing a secret, I lowered my voice. “Susan told me—”
“What?” Marci flinched as if she’d been slapped. “Because if that bitch said one word
about me—”
“Your name never came up. But she did say that she thought Angela was a nutcase.”
“No big news flash there.” Marci shifted the shopping bag from one hand to the other,
and again, I heard therattle of glass. Whatever she was carrying, it was bigger than a drinking glass, smaller
than a pitcher. “But of course, Susan would say that. She’d do anything to make Angela
look bad.”
This didn’t make sense to me. “But Angela was donating the charm string to her museum,”
I blurted out, thinking out loud. “And Susan was grateful. In fact, she asked me if
I thought she might still get the charm string. If she was so appreciative, why would
Susan want to discredit Angela?”
Marci let go of the gate and it slapped closed. “Did you see the guy at the wake?
The one with the silvery hair?”
I had a vague recollection of a man at the back of the room who looked sadder than
the rest of the folks gathered there. “Larry?” I asked.
Marci nodded, confirming my suspicion.
“He’s obviously pretty broken up.”
Another nod sent her spiky hair twitching. “Larry’s a nice guy. Kind of quiet, you
know?”
“And he and Angela were dating.”
“She told you, huh?”
“She mentioned it when she came to the shop. She said Larry was the only good thing
that had happened in her life lately.”
“Yeah.” Marci chuckled. “On account of the curse! God, maybe for the first time in
her life, Susan is actually right. Maybe Angela really was a nutcase.”
“But that’s not exactly a reason Susan would want to kill her.”
Oh yes, I was fishing. For all I was worth.
Marci glanced around. We were the only ones out there on the street, but she stepped
nearer, anyway. “Larry’s the reason.”
“The reason Angela believed in curses? I don’t think so. She said—”
“Not the reason she believed in curses. The reason Susan hated Angela.”
I am not usually slow, but this took some thinking. “You’re implying—”
“Implying!” Marci punched open the gate and stepped onto the walk that led to the
front door. “I’m not implying anything, I’m telling you flat out. Susan and Larry
used to be a couple. That’s why Susan hated Angela so much. Angela stole him away
from her.”
I WASN’T SURE how well Marci was connected to the Ardent Lake gossip grapevine, but I did know
this much: at the funeral the next day, Larry looked positively inconsolable. He was
a tall, handsome guy and as we stood around the coffin at the cemetery, I made sure
I positioned myself directly across from him and watched his face twist with pain
as the minister read the last of the prayers.
“I’ll need to talk to him,” I said to Stan after we walked away from the service.
“But I’m thinking this would be a bad time.”
“There’s a luncheon.” Stan pointed to the line in the church program that invited
everyone attending back to the home of Angela’s cousin, Charles.
“You hungry?” I asked
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