all been repaired.
The late afternoon sun had lulled them both into a dreamlike state. Skye gazed at the lush green trees almost obscuring her vision of the river. She spotted a squirrel dragging an ear of corn that was almost twice its size.
“Shall I put some music on?” Simon asked.
“Something mellow. Do you want a drink?” Skye extracted herself from the deep cushions.
“Sure. A soda sounds good.” Simon followed her through the sliding glass doors into the living room.
This was one of the things she liked about Simon. He wasn’t much of a drinker. Except for the occasional glass of wine at a fine restaurant, he seemed to prefer soft drinks. Skye poured a can of Diet Coke into two glasses filled with ice. She picked them up and went back outside. Simon was already there, listening to the CD he had selected.
She handed him his drink and said, “Have you identified the poison that killed Grandma and Mrs. Jankowski?”
He put his glass down on the little round table that separated their chairs. “Yes, but I can’t tell you what it was.”
“I see. You don’t trust me.” Skye sat on the foot of the lounger rather than stretching out.
“It’s not that. I just don’t want you to get any more involved in this whole mess than you have to. Finding out who killed her will not bring your grandmother back.”
Skye felt a brief flare of anger. “Maybe. Can you at least tell me when you’re going to release Mrs. J’s body?”
“I called the agency she worked for and asked them to make the arrangements. Didn’t they call your family?” Simon looked tired of this subject.
“No, why would they?”
“The woman in charge seemed to feel it was your family’s responsibility to bury Mrs. Jankowski. She didn’t have any relatives here and no one in Poland has the money for a funeral.”
“Uh-oh. I’d better call Mom.”
“Sure, go ahead.” Simon leaned back in his chaise.
By the time Skye returned to the deck he was asleep.
CHAPTER 12
Rain, Rain Go Away
Skye watched as the first drop of rain hit Simon squarely in the face. He bolted upright, but quickly regained his composure. She had been reading a new mystery with Bingo stretched down the length of her thigh.
The music had stopped an hour ago, but Skye had been too engrossed in the adventures of the amateur sleuth to put on another CD. Bingo was purring in his sleep, his sides vibrating in time to a rhythm that only he could hear.
Simon wiped the moisture off his face with his handkerchief and looked at his watch. “How long have I been asleep?”
Skye closed the book after marking her place. “A little over an hour.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” He stretched and straightened his clothing.
“We didn’t have any plans, and I figured you must be tired.” Skye swept up the sleeping cat, and put him inside the cottage before he could protest.
Moving to her side, Simon put his arms around her. “You’re very understanding. I got called out late last night to pick up a body. I didn’t get to bed until after three then; I had to be at church at nine.”
“You couldn’t have skipped services this one time?” Skye asked.
“No, I was playing the organ for the choir.” Simon tucked a stray curl behind her ear.
“I forgot you sometimes play for them.” Skye linked her hands behind his neck and leaned back slightly. “Why did you have to go out so late?”
“One of those guys in the survivalist group was cleaning his gun, and it went off.” A shadow passed over Simon’s features. “He was only twenty-two.”
“Oh, how awful.” Skye gave Simon a hug. “No question it was an accident?”
“We don’t know yet. Witnesses say so.” Simon peeked at his watch.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.
Shrugging apologetically, Simon said, “Well, I did agree to talk to that boy’s parents this evening.” Before she could respond, he added, “I have a meeting with your family tomorrow to go over your grandmother’s arrangements, and I didn’t want them to feel rushed.”
“That was very thoughtful of you.” Skye pecked him on the cheek and slipped out of his arms. “We were rather surprised that Grandma had made all those prearrange ments without our knowledge.”
“More and more people are doing that. I feel it’s a good idea. One less thing for the family to worry about.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“Well, it’s a matter of confidentiality.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“Your grandmother asked that I not mention it to anybody.”
“Surely she didn’t mean me.” Skye turned and walked into the house.
“She didn’t make any exceptions.”
“This whole thing has been quite an eye-opener. I never realized how many secrets Grandma kept from us. And I’m learning a lot about my family.” Skye paused. “Maybe, in some cases, more than I wanted to know.”
They walked toward the front door.
Simon put his hand on her cheek. “It’s not that bad, is it?”
“I really miss Grandma. And I knew a lot of my relatives didn’t exactly see eye to eye with me, but I think now some of them really hate me.”
“You have had a rough time lately. I’m sure all the vandalism hasn’t helped either. I was surprised to see the windows fixed so soon.”
“Me too. I had called around and all the companies told me two weeks. Then Dad took over, without telling me of course, and voila, they’re all fixed in a few days.”
“He fixed your tires too. Jed seems to be a handy man to have around.”
“Too handy. At this rate I’ll never learn to take care of myself.”
Simon leaned down and kissed her. “They’re just trying to convince you how nice it is to live close to home, so you won’t move halfway across the country again.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
After Simon’s departure, the intensity of the rain increased. Skye curled up on the couch and listened to it hit the sliding glass doors. It sounded almost like a spray of bullets. Bingo wedged himself into the bottom shelf of the bookcase, between books by Grant and Isenberg, and yowled forlornly.
Unable to get back into her mystery, Skye turned her thoughts to her grandmother’s murder.
Maybe Wally was right. Maybe the murderer was someone in the family. She closed her eyes and shivered. As her grandmother used to say, that would be a bitter pill to swallow. Skye would much prefer it be those survivalists. They certainly had proximity. But would they try to pass off a murder as death by natural causes? Grandma wasn’t assaulted, nothing was stolen, and everything was put back to look normal. If a member of that group was the killer, what was the motive?
Grandma’s “magic” table caught her eye. She ran her fingertip lightly over the polished wooden surface, straightened the lace runner so that it lay exactly down the center, and adjusted the silver-framed picture of Antonia.
Next, Skye wandered into the kitchen and peered distractedly into the fridge, still puzzling about her grandmother’s death.
Why would anyone want to kill Grandma? Maybe Uncle Dante because he really wanted the land. But since it was in trust and he was the trustee, he had control anyway. She needed to look into the details regarding that arrangement as soon as possible.
