Harrison drummed the fingers of one hand on the arm of his chair. A slight tic pulled at one eyelid. “Possibly so, possibly not. Science is often discredited these days. In any event, whatever happened, the movement of Susan’s body is irrelevant to the cause of her death and the suggestion of murder has yet to be proven.”
Charlotte’s intelligent face looked thoughtful. “Susan on the floor and the pillow on her face made a huge difference, didn’t they, Chief Cobb?”
“An enormous difference. An alarm was raised. The police were summoned. An investigation began. An autopsy was performed. That autopsy revealed death was caused by a massive overdose of digitalis, not suffocation. Let’s consider what would have happened had Mrs. Flynn’s body been found in her bed this morning. The doctor would have been summoned and death by heart failure recorded. There would have been no police, no investigation. Instead, I’m here today because her body was found on the floor, a lipstick-smeared pillow on her face. Someone suspected that Mrs. Flynn had been murdered and was determined to have an investigation made.”
There was not a breath of sound or movement.
Chief Cobb’s heavy face was somber. “Whoever set up that scene, tell me what you know. Before it’s too late.”
Whatever the source of that faint smile, I knew that Susan was pleased that her grandson was safe and secure in Pritchard House. Tomorrow when Susan’s will reached the office of Wade Farrell, Keith would be established as her heir. My task would be done and it would be time for me to board the Rescue Express.
I had one more day to enjoy Adelaide’s holiday bows and bangles.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Soft December sunlight splashed cheerfully into the living room through the east windows. Peg placed an alphabet block—letter
Keith whooped, “Keef,” and knocked over the blocks, then rolled in laughter. He looked happy and well cared for in his new red turtleneck with Santa Claus on the front and brown corduroy trousers and fancy sneakers that flashed as he walked.
Though she was pale and drawn, Peg’s face lighted for an instant. “That’s one more for you. You have five and I have three. This time, you build the tower and tell me which letter I can push. Let’s pick out a letter. How about
Keith nodded, his face intent beneath the tangle of blond curls. His slender fingers hovered over a mound of blocks.
I smiled though I was restive and hungry. Last night, lurking in the kitchen, I’d managed a lovely dinner, taking advantage of the generous outpouring of food from friends and church ladies. However, breakfast had been hit-or- miss, cadging tidbits while Jake, Gina, Peg, and Keith ate largely. Keith had beamed a brilliant smile at me, but he had a mouthful of waffle and didn’t say hello. My measly single slice of bacon and sparrow-sized serving of scrambled eggs hadn’t satisfied. Wiggins had never explained how one was to be on the earth, thereby requiring sustenance for energy, but not of the earth with the right to sit at table for meals. Next time I traveled back to earth as an emissary, I’d have that little matter straightened out. I was confident I would be dispatched again because I’d done so well in this instance, assuming Wiggins was feeling charitable enough to overlook my encounter with the church secretary, the befuddlement of Officer Cain, and Susan’s slight delay in departing.
His small fingers agile, Keith selected the block with
Jake pattered into the living room, her face worried and abstracted. “Wade’s secretary called. We’ll meet at two o’clock this afternoon in his office.”
“Can’t the vultures wait until after the funeral?” Peg’s voice wavered.
Jake’s face flushed in outrage. “Missy, you keep a civil tongue in your head.”
“Is that horrible will more important than Susan? How can any of us go to Farrell’s office and not be ashamed? Everything”—Peg waved her arm—“should belong to Keith. That’s what Susan wanted. One more day and this house and the ranch and the money would be his.”
Jake’s hands clenched. “Susan wanted me to have this house. I’m the one who’s taken care of everything and kept the house going and made it beautiful the way Susan always did. Susan appreciated me. She told me more than once that she was glad Pritchard House would be mine, that I would always love and care for it.” Jake’s eyes swept the ornate and elegant living room with pride and passion and possessiveness.
Peg looked at her mother with compassion, but spoke with stubborn honesty. “Pritchard House should belong to Keith.”
“He can live here.” Jake’s cry was forlorn. “Of course we’ll take care of him. But Susan promised the house to me. She promised!”
Peg’s eyes brimmed with tears. “We can’t pretend we don’t know what Susan wanted. Instead, everyone wants to know what they’ll get. Susan’s dead and no one cares. She was kind and brave. The world took her heart and crushed it and she kept on going and then she had a chance to be happy, to love Mitch’s little boy, and someone killed her.”
Tears trickled down Jake’s cheeks as well. She swiped at them with a loud snuffle. “I feel like I’m living in a nightmare and someone will wake me up and everything will be all right.” Her teary eyes looked piteously at her daughter. “I loved Susan. Susan and Tom gave us a home when I didn’t have anything. Your daddy was a wonderful man, but he spent his life chasing dreams. He was always sure the next big scheme would put us on easy street. When he died, we owed thousands of dollars and our house was mortgaged. Susan and Tom did everything for us and they gave a home to Tucker and Gina. No one would kill Susan, and certainly not one of us. I don’t care what the police say, all of this murder talk is crazy. After all, someone took my car and nobody can explain that either. Susan wasn’t well enough to go out and she didn’t even know anyone with red hair. And now I’ve got to go to the church and talk to Father Abbott and see about the funeral.” The telephone pealed in the hall. “And everybody is
