house?”
“All you have to do is wait five minutes,” said Caron, “and then he’ll vanish. I know how this works, Mother. Trust me.”
I was not amused. “I’m going to call 911, and then Peter. If I don’t hear you lock the bedroom door before I pick up the receiver, I will drag you upstairs by your hair and fling you inside. Understand?”
“Don’t get all huffy.” Caron went past me, with Inez trailing after her. “So where’s the body this time—watching a movie in the den?”
I reached for the cordless. “Think of the money you’ll save on shampoo and conditioner.” After they’d trotted up the stairs, I punched in the numbers, waited until I heard a voice, and then said, “I’ve just found a body in the freezer. Please send someone immediately. I’m afraid the perpetrator might still be in the house or yard.”
“On Dogwood Lane.” The dispatcher groaned. “Third time this week, right?”
“Send someone immediately!”
“Look, Ms. Malloy, I realize you’re the lieutenant’s girlfriend, but this is getting old. The officers on duty have more important things to do than come chasing up there whenever one of you claims to have found a body that turns out not to be there after all. Why don’t you have yourself a stiff drink, then call me back if the body hasn’t taken a hike?”
“Then you’re not going to send a patrol car?” I said, grinding out each word.
“If I send a patrol car every time some nutcase hears Nazis in the attic or sees little green men in the backyard, I wouldn’t have anyone available—”
I hung up, then dialed the more mundane number of the police department and asked to speak to Peter. I was informed that he was gone for the day. I called his house, but no one answered. He could have stopped to pick up a pizza or Chinese—or taken Madison on a scenic drive to a country inn for an intimate dinner, despite the fact he was old enough to be her father (presuming she’d been conceived on his prom night).
I’d about decided to take the dispatcher’s advice and have a stiff drink when a bedroom door opened and Caron called, “What on earth is going on, Mother? If we’re all going to be murdered, I’d like to change into something more flattering.”
“No one will notice if you’re wheeled out in a body bag,” I replied.
“I’m talking about the crime scene photos, with the victim awkwardly sprawled on the carpet. Did you call 911?”
“Yes, I did. Now get back inside the room and stay there.”
“While you do what?”
I was very nearly hysterical, and the conversation was not helping. Her question was a good one, though. What did I think I was going to do? Sit on the top of the freezer to prevent someone from retrieving the body? Go outside and scream until one of the neighbors called the police? Search the house while clutching a corkscrew to defend myself? Make spaghetti for dinner, since steaks were off the menu unless I rolled aside the body to fetch a package of sirloin strips?
What I needed to do was go back to the garage, open the freezer, and make sure that I hadn’t mistaken the body for a side of beef—which I knew perfectly well I hadn’t. On the other hand, I really didn’t want to so much as unlock the door to the garage.
I was in the hallway, dithering, when the front door opened and Peter came in. “I hear you found the body again,” he said in a conversational tone, as though commenting on the traffic. “The dispatcher started worrying and paged me. I assured him I’d look into it.”
“How kind of you,” I said in an altogether different tone. “I do hope this isn’t interrupting your baseball game.”
“It doesn’t start for another half hour.” He went into the kitchen. “I assume the freezer is back here somewhere. Would you care to show me?”
“It’s in the garage.” I wanted to stay where I was, but reluctantly led the way. My hand began to shake as I unlocked the door to the garage, but I
“All you have to do is wait five minutes,” said Caron, “and then he’ll vanish. I know how this works, Mother. Trust me.”
I was not amused. “I’m going to call 911, and then Peter. If I don’t hear you lock the bedroom door before I pick up the receiver, I will drag you upstairs by your hair and fling you inside. Understand?”
“Don’t get all huffy.” Caron went past me, with Inez trailing after her. “So where’s the body this time—watching a movie in the den?”
I reached for the cordless. “Think of the money you’ll save on shampoo and conditioner.” After they’d trotted up the stairs, I punched in the numbers, waited until I heard a voice, and then said, “I’ve just found a body in the freezer. Please send someone immediately. I’m afraid the perpetrator might still be in the house or yard.”
“On Dogwood Lane.” The dispatcher groaned. “Third time this week, right?”
“Send someone immediately!”
“Look, Ms. Malloy, I realize you’re the lieutenant’s girlfriend, but this is getting old. The officers on duty have more important things to do than come chasing up there whenever one of you claims to have found a body that turns out not to be there after all. Why don’t you have yourself a stiff drink, then call me back if the body hasn’t taken a hike?”
“Then you’re not going to send a patrol car?” I said, grinding out each word.
“If I send a patrol car every time some nutcase hears Nazis in the attic or sees little green men in the backyard, I wouldn’t have anyone available—”
I hung up, then dialed the more mundane number of the police department and asked to speak to Peter. I was informed that he was gone for the day. I called his house, but no one answered. He could have stopped to pick up a pizza or Chinese—or taken Madison on a scenic drive to a country inn for an intimate dinner, despite the fact he was old enough to be her father (presuming she’d been conceived on his prom night).
I’d about decided to take the dispatcher’s advice and have a stiff drink when a bedroom door opened and Caron called, “What on earth is going on, Mother? If we’re all going to be murdered, I’d like to change into something more flattering.”
“No one will notice if you’re wheeled out in a body bag,” I replied.
“I’m talking about the crime scene photos, with the victim awkwardly sprawled on the carpet. Did you call 911?”
“Yes, I did. Now get back inside the room and stay there.”
“While you do what?”
I was very nearly hysterical, and the conversation was not helping. Her question was a good one, though. What did I think I was going to do? Sit on the top of the freezer to prevent someone from retrieving the body? Go outside and scream until one of the neighbors called the police? Search the house while clutching a corkscrew to defend myself? Make spaghetti for dinner, since steaks were off the menu unless I rolled aside the body to fetch a package of sirloin strips?
What I needed to do was go back to the garage, open the freezer, and make sure that I hadn’t mistaken the body for a side of beef—which I knew perfectly well I hadn’t. On the other hand, I really didn’t want to so much as unlock the door to the garage.
I was in the hallway, dithering, when the front door opened and Peter came in. “I hear you found the body again,” he said in a conversational tone, as though commenting on the traffic. “The dispatcher started worrying and paged me. I assured him I’d look into it.”
“How kind of you,” I said in an altogether different tone. “I do hope this isn’t interrupting your baseball game.”
“It doesn’t start for another half hour.” He went into the kitchen. “I assume the freezer is back here somewhere. Would you care to show me?”
“It’s in the garage.” I wanted to stay where I was, but reluctantly led the way. My hand began to shake as I unlocked the door to the garage, but I
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