didn’t make a police report, though, which is strange. And Brown didn’t come back here and beat the bushes for them. He talked to Edna, he said, who told him the three of them drove away in Emily’s car and he had no reason to not believe her.
But the truth is, their official existence ended here in that summer of 1970. Yet Emily wasn’t the sort of woman to keep her kids from their father as much as she disliked him. She wasn’t like that.”
A dark suspicion was growing in Abigail’s mind. Before it’d only been a normal curiosity about the former occupants of her house…now it was becoming an enigma that cried out to be solved. What had happened to Emily and her two children?
Frank leaned forward in his chair and brought his glass of wine slowly to his lips, his eyes on Abigail’s face, but she knew his thoughts were probably in the past. In the night woods katydids croaked and the wind was a sigh through the leaves. The heat had left the earth and on the deck Abigail was chilly. She should have brought a sweater.
“And,” Frank added, “I walked our friend Sheriff Mearl to his car last night and he let it slip, I believe by accident, that there was some question about old Edna’s death after all. That it wasn’t completely natural. The coroner found a trace too much of prescription drugs in her system. He thought, as most would, her being feeble minded at the end she’d forgotten and taken too many pills. According to many people, Edna had been frail most of her life. Been sickly since her early thirties, which kept her from working. People wondered, as we did earlier, how she made it, alone in that house, no job, and no income that could be accounted for.”
“So she took too much of her medication and died from it?”
“If it was only that. The coroner found medication in Edna’s stomach which wasn’t hers. It could have killed her. But because she was elderly, chronically ill and unloved, there was no inquest and she was simply buried. No one cared.”
“It’s funny how a person’s death is only as important as that person was in life,” Abigail made the observation cynically.
Frank groaned, stretching out his long legs. “Oh, and there’s something else you’ll find interesting. The Sheriff confided that after Edna died last year her house, your house now, was rummaged through during the funeral service. He thought it was one of those obit burglars. You know, a thief reading someone has died in the newspaper and breaking in because the house is empty, so he didn’t think much of it. As far as he knew, the old woman hadn’t anything to steal.”
“What a coincidence. Well, either the house I live in is a burglar magnet or Edna must have had something somebody wanted badly enough to break in for. Twice.”
“Could be it’s that record book you found in the metal box, Abby. If Edna had been blackmailing someone for something, there’d be someone out there who’d want the evidence disposed of. I’d put it in a safe place, if I were you.”
“I intend to.”
They talked a bit longer of unrelated things and then Abigail said goodnight. “The supper was fantastic and the company was too. I should get home. I worry about Snowball. And all that cleaning I did today and a full belly has made me want to sleep.”
Frank escorted her to the door. “We have to do this again, Abby. It was nice cooking for someone else besides me. Nice having someone to talk to.”
“My turn next time. I make a tasty pot roast and the best apple turnovers you’ve ever had.”
“I’ll take you up on that one night. Give me a time and a day and I’ll be there.”
Abigail picked up the box and her purse and left. Driving into the lightless woods and navigating through the night fog, her mind was churning over what Frank had told her.
It was possible that someone had murdered Edna. Now why would anyone want to do that? An old lady? Abigail thought of the metal box on the seat beside her and the
But the truth is, their official existence ended here in that summer of 1970. Yet Emily wasn’t the sort of woman to keep her kids from their father as much as she disliked him. She wasn’t like that.”
A dark suspicion was growing in Abigail’s mind. Before it’d only been a normal curiosity about the former occupants of her house…now it was becoming an enigma that cried out to be solved. What had happened to Emily and her two children?
Frank leaned forward in his chair and brought his glass of wine slowly to his lips, his eyes on Abigail’s face, but she knew his thoughts were probably in the past. In the night woods katydids croaked and the wind was a sigh through the leaves. The heat had left the earth and on the deck Abigail was chilly. She should have brought a sweater.
“And,” Frank added, “I walked our friend Sheriff Mearl to his car last night and he let it slip, I believe by accident, that there was some question about old Edna’s death after all. That it wasn’t completely natural. The coroner found a trace too much of prescription drugs in her system. He thought, as most would, her being feeble minded at the end she’d forgotten and taken too many pills. According to many people, Edna had been frail most of her life. Been sickly since her early thirties, which kept her from working. People wondered, as we did earlier, how she made it, alone in that house, no job, and no income that could be accounted for.”
“So she took too much of her medication and died from it?”
“If it was only that. The coroner found medication in Edna’s stomach which wasn’t hers. It could have killed her. But because she was elderly, chronically ill and unloved, there was no inquest and she was simply buried. No one cared.”
“It’s funny how a person’s death is only as important as that person was in life,” Abigail made the observation cynically.
Frank groaned, stretching out his long legs. “Oh, and there’s something else you’ll find interesting. The Sheriff confided that after Edna died last year her house, your house now, was rummaged through during the funeral service. He thought it was one of those obit burglars. You know, a thief reading someone has died in the newspaper and breaking in because the house is empty, so he didn’t think much of it. As far as he knew, the old woman hadn’t anything to steal.”
“What a coincidence. Well, either the house I live in is a burglar magnet or Edna must have had something somebody wanted badly enough to break in for. Twice.”
“Could be it’s that record book you found in the metal box, Abby. If Edna had been blackmailing someone for something, there’d be someone out there who’d want the evidence disposed of. I’d put it in a safe place, if I were you.”
“I intend to.”
They talked a bit longer of unrelated things and then Abigail said goodnight. “The supper was fantastic and the company was too. I should get home. I worry about Snowball. And all that cleaning I did today and a full belly has made me want to sleep.”
Frank escorted her to the door. “We have to do this again, Abby. It was nice cooking for someone else besides me. Nice having someone to talk to.”
“My turn next time. I make a tasty pot roast and the best apple turnovers you’ve ever had.”
“I’ll take you up on that one night. Give me a time and a day and I’ll be there.”
Abigail picked up the box and her purse and left. Driving into the lightless woods and navigating through the night fog, her mind was churning over what Frank had told her.
It was possible that someone had murdered Edna. Now why would anyone want to do that? An old lady? Abigail thought of the metal box on the seat beside her and the
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