I?”
“It’s your idea,” she said. “You should get the fun of executing it.”
“Okay, but feel free to step in anytime you’d like.”
“You can count on it.”
An older woman came to the door of the Cape Cod–style home, a pair of gardening gloves in her hands. Her hair was frosted white with time, and was cut short and stylish. She wore an old pair of blue jeans, but I could swear I saw a crease pressed into them. The last time I’d ironed my jeans was—now that I thought about it—never.
“What can I do for you ladies?” she asked in a rich and cultured voice.
“We’re here about crime,” I said. The woman looked perplexed until I added, “And how to stop it. Don’t you think neighbors should look out for each other in this uncertain day and age?”
The woman frowned. “I could hardly refute that.” She studied us both, and then added, “I haven’t seen you around this street before. Where exactly is it that you live?”
“We’ve both been in Timber Ridge all our lives,” Maddy said as she looked at the woman a little closer. “Why, you’re Mrs. Searing, aren’t you?”
She frowned, and then a smile blossomed on her face. “Made-line, is that you? You’ve changed so much I hardly recognized you. You’re all grown-up.”
Maddy moved closer, effectively shutting me out. “Except for your haircut, you haven’t changed at all.”
“You’re a liar, but I love you for it,” Mrs. Searing said cheerily. She pointed to me, and said, “This is your sister, Eleanor, isn’t it?”
“I am,” I admitted. How did Maddy know this woman, and I didn’t? My sister cleared up the mystery in a second. “Mrs. Searing taught fifth grade at the elementary school after you left for middle school.”
“I needed two more years in the district before I could retire,” she explained to me, “and I always wanted to teach at that grade-school level, so I transferred in. Before that, I was at Edgewood, teaching high-school senior English.”
“That must have been quite a transition for you,” I said.
“Not as much as you might think,” she replied. “Teaching is teaching, and children are children.”
I thought about adding, And clouds are clouds, doorknobs are doorknobs, and parfaits are parfaits, but I didn’t.
“We’re here about what happened to the man next door,” Maddy said, abandoning the Neighborhood Watch front I’d been prepared to utilize.
“It’s terrible,” Mrs. Searing said. “I must admit, I wasn’t all that fond of Wade, but to be bludgeoned to death must have been horrific. It happened at the local pizzeria, didn’t it?”
I nodded. “Mine, to be exact. I own A Slice of Delight.”
“Sorry, but I never learned to like pizza. I suppose that makes me un-American these days.”
“We have other things on the menu, too,” I said.
Maddy frowned at me. “Hey, Sis, take it easy. We’re not out drumming up business for the pizzeria,” she said to me, then turned to Mrs. Searing. “Do you have a moment? We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Certainly. I’m ready for a break, at any rate. I’ve been working in my greenhouse out back, and my stamina isn’t what it once was.”
“I doubt that,” Maddy said. “Are you still walking every day?”
“How sweet of you to remember,” Mrs. Searing said as she led us inside. The house was neat, clean, and clearly feminine. “Would either of you care for some coffee or perhaps some iced tea?”
“Tea would be great,” I said.
Maddy nodded her agreement, and soon enough we were sitting at the kitchen table like old friends, chatting away.
After taking a drink of herbal tea, Mrs. Searing asked, “Now, why are you two attempting to do the police’s business?”
She’d said it so sweetly, it took me a second to realize that there was a barb planted there.
“We hate to see an injustice done,” I said. “And if we don’t act, an innocent man might go to jail.”
Mrs. Searing seemed to
“It’s your idea,” she said. “You should get the fun of executing it.”
“Okay, but feel free to step in anytime you’d like.”
“You can count on it.”
An older woman came to the door of the Cape Cod–style home, a pair of gardening gloves in her hands. Her hair was frosted white with time, and was cut short and stylish. She wore an old pair of blue jeans, but I could swear I saw a crease pressed into them. The last time I’d ironed my jeans was—now that I thought about it—never.
“What can I do for you ladies?” she asked in a rich and cultured voice.
“We’re here about crime,” I said. The woman looked perplexed until I added, “And how to stop it. Don’t you think neighbors should look out for each other in this uncertain day and age?”
The woman frowned. “I could hardly refute that.” She studied us both, and then added, “I haven’t seen you around this street before. Where exactly is it that you live?”
“We’ve both been in Timber Ridge all our lives,” Maddy said as she looked at the woman a little closer. “Why, you’re Mrs. Searing, aren’t you?”
She frowned, and then a smile blossomed on her face. “Made-line, is that you? You’ve changed so much I hardly recognized you. You’re all grown-up.”
Maddy moved closer, effectively shutting me out. “Except for your haircut, you haven’t changed at all.”
“You’re a liar, but I love you for it,” Mrs. Searing said cheerily. She pointed to me, and said, “This is your sister, Eleanor, isn’t it?”
“I am,” I admitted. How did Maddy know this woman, and I didn’t? My sister cleared up the mystery in a second. “Mrs. Searing taught fifth grade at the elementary school after you left for middle school.”
“I needed two more years in the district before I could retire,” she explained to me, “and I always wanted to teach at that grade-school level, so I transferred in. Before that, I was at Edgewood, teaching high-school senior English.”
“That must have been quite a transition for you,” I said.
“Not as much as you might think,” she replied. “Teaching is teaching, and children are children.”
I thought about adding, And clouds are clouds, doorknobs are doorknobs, and parfaits are parfaits, but I didn’t.
“We’re here about what happened to the man next door,” Maddy said, abandoning the Neighborhood Watch front I’d been prepared to utilize.
“It’s terrible,” Mrs. Searing said. “I must admit, I wasn’t all that fond of Wade, but to be bludgeoned to death must have been horrific. It happened at the local pizzeria, didn’t it?”
I nodded. “Mine, to be exact. I own A Slice of Delight.”
“Sorry, but I never learned to like pizza. I suppose that makes me un-American these days.”
“We have other things on the menu, too,” I said.
Maddy frowned at me. “Hey, Sis, take it easy. We’re not out drumming up business for the pizzeria,” she said to me, then turned to Mrs. Searing. “Do you have a moment? We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Certainly. I’m ready for a break, at any rate. I’ve been working in my greenhouse out back, and my stamina isn’t what it once was.”
“I doubt that,” Maddy said. “Are you still walking every day?”
“How sweet of you to remember,” Mrs. Searing said as she led us inside. The house was neat, clean, and clearly feminine. “Would either of you care for some coffee or perhaps some iced tea?”
“Tea would be great,” I said.
Maddy nodded her agreement, and soon enough we were sitting at the kitchen table like old friends, chatting away.
After taking a drink of herbal tea, Mrs. Searing asked, “Now, why are you two attempting to do the police’s business?”
She’d said it so sweetly, it took me a second to realize that there was a barb planted there.
“We hate to see an injustice done,” I said. “And if we don’t act, an innocent man might go to jail.”
Mrs. Searing seemed to
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