Pecked to Death by Vanessa Gray Bartal Page B

of yesterday?”
     
    She had to think for a second to remember her heat exhaustion from the day before. “No, your friend Hal fixed me up. I’m fine today. I went to talk to him about Aunt Abby’s death.”
     
    “Hmm,” Luke said. He didn’t stop working. He was so task oriented; it drove her crazy.
     
    “He said Abby was pregnant,” she said.
     
    “Hmm,” he said, then, “Wait, what?” He stopped short and looked at her, head cocked to the side.
     
    “Oh, so you are listening,” she said. He rolled his eyes and resumed working.
     
    “I can listen and unpack at the same time. Continue.”
     
    “So I asked him if he signed the death certificate, and he said yes. And then he said Abby died of natural causes, and that she may or may not have been secretly sick. And then he said he was with her when she died.”
     
    “Hmm,” Luke said.
     
    “Luke!” Sadie snapped.
     
    He paused to look at her. “What? I heard you, but I don’t see how this is earth-shattering information. He was with her when she died peacefully and signed the death certificate. Isn’t that how it should be?”
     
    “Then why did she say she was murdered?” Sadie asked.
     
    “How could she say she was murdered before her death?” Luke said.
     
    “Exactly. She must have known something or…or…” she sat back, trying to sort her thoughts.
     
    “Or what?” he asked, pausing again. As always with Sadie, silence got his attention better than chatter.
     
    “What if he killed her?” she said softly.
     
    “Sadie!” Luke said. “That’s crazy. You can’t accuse a respected man like Doc Jones of murder,”
     
    “I’m not accusing; I’m brainstorming. And I don’t mean that he strangled her for kicks. But what if Abby was sick, and she asked him to kill her? You know he would do anything for her.”
     
    He sat beside her as he digested that. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “Why wouldn’t she fade away with dignity?”
     
    “Unless it was the type of illness that wouldn’t allow for dignity. What if she had some form of dementia? She would have hated that.”
     
    “I don’t know. I don’t know if I buy Doc Jones breaking the law, even for Abby.”
     
    “Let’s think of it this way: If I found out I had dementia and asked you to kill me, would you do it?” she asked.
     
    “No. I wouldn’t kill you or anyone, and no one should be selfish enough to ask another person to break the law for them.”
     
    To Luke, the world was nice and monochrome—he refused to acknowledge gray areas. Sadie was heartened by his answer, however. At least he hadn’t said he didn’t care enough about her to do anything.
     
    “What was her state of mind the last few times you saw her?” she asked.
     
    “Normal, a little withdrawn, maybe.”
     
    “What was the talk in the neighborhood? Was anyone saying anything about her?”
     
    Luke squinted, trying to remember. “Now that you mention it, I do sort of remember hearing chatter that Aunt Abby was losing it, but I can’t remember who said it or why.”
     
    “I need to talk to the neighbors.”
     
    “You need to let this go. You talked to Doc, you satisfied yourself that she went peacefully and didn’t die alone. Let it go, Sadie.”
     
    “I can’t, not until I feel like I have closure.”
     
    He rolled his eyes. “Oh, good, go with your feelings because that’s always worked out so well for you before.”
     
    She reached over and pinched his bicep, smiling. “Just a little while longer, tiger, and you and your Russian robot will have the world to yourselves again. How long is her warranty good for, by the way? Because I heard those taller models don’t last as long as the smaller ones. And how long have you been dating?”
     
    “We’ve been dating a few months, we’re happy, and I’m not talking about her with you. What about you? I’m surprised one of your hard bodies hasn’t swooped to your rescue by now.”
     
    “First of all,