probably forgotten you’re out of town. Meanwhile, my
mother is…” Renie stopped, the lipstick in one hand and
something else in the other. “It’s a note someone dropped,”
she said, standing up.
The note had been folded several times into a quarter-inch
thickness. Renie smoothed the paper and held it so that Judith could read over her shoulder. It appeared to have come
out of a daybook and was a list of things to do for Thursday,
January 11.
Take Frank’s suit to cleaners—grease spot on left lapel
Stop at post office to get change of address forms
Change Frank’s appointment with Hukle, Hukle, and Huff
Call cable company re Frank
Go to liquor store
“Nadia,” Judith breathed.
“Dogsbody,” Renie said. “Which, some might say, is another word for wife.”
“But she’s not,” Judith noted. “On the other hand, she acts
like one.”
“Interesting,” Renie remarked, and pointed to the notation
about Hukle, Hukle, and Huff. “Roland Huff is the city’s
leading divorce attorney.”
Judith respected Renie’s knowledge when it came to lo-
cal law firms. Her mother, Deborah Grover, had been a
legal secretary for almost fifty years. Still, Judith had a
quibble.
“So what kind of law do the Hukles practice?”
“Mostly estate and insurance.” Renie held up a hand before
Judith could interrupt. “I know what you’re thinking—Frank
Killegrew’s appointment could have been with Burton or
Kay Hukle. Still, it’s intriguing.”
“Maybe.” Judith, however, was gazing not at the items on
the list but at the paper itself. “What intrigues me is why this
was folded so small and ended up on the restroom floor.
What do you do with memos to yourself after you’ve polished them off?”
“I toss them,” Renie replied. “But this came out of a daybook. People don’t usually rip out the pages, they just move
on to the next one. I write my reminders on whatever spare
piece of paper I can find.”
“Good point.” Judith refolded the list and put it in her
shoulder bag. “I think I’ll hang on to this. Maybe something
will come to me.”
The cousins entered the kitchen from the back way,
through the laundry room. “We should wash our clothes
after dinner,” Renie said. “I don’t think we’re getting out of
here tonight. It’s still snowing, but not as hard.”
Dolefully, Judith shook her head. “Meanwhile, Mother is
dangling by her thumbs from one of the coat hangers Aunt
Ellen made out of macaroni for Christmas presents.”
“Macaroni?” Renie frowned. “The ones my mother got
were fusilli. They’re kind of brittle.”
