“Only in the mug.” Henny’s dark eyes narrowed in thought. “Let me check.” She whirled and hurried to the kitchen.
Annie and Billy followed.
The kitchen was narrow and small. A wooden chair sat at each end of a Formica-topped table. A newspaper, carefully folded, lay to the left of a single, woven red cloth place mat. An old-fashioned six-cup metal percolator sat on the tiled counter next to an avocado-green fifties-era stove. A bottle of Irish whiskey sat on the counter next to a sugar canister.
Henny didn’t pick up the coffeemaker. Instead, she bent near. “It hasn’t been washed.” She turned and faced Annie and Billy. “Pat ate dinner. She washed her dishes.” Henny nodded toward the drainer, which held a plate, glass, cutlery, saucepan, and skillet. “She made the coffee. So why six cups if she didn’t expect company? Look next to the row of canisters on the counter.” She pointed. “A single-cup French press. That’s what she would use to make a cup for herself. Irish coffee was one of her specialties, with a hefty slug of whiskey and lots of brown sugar.” Now she faced Billy. “How much coffee was left in the carafe?”
“I can find out, but the amount left in the carafe proves nothing.” His voice was patient. “You’re trying to make the case that she served coffee to someone else, that she wouldn’t have made six cups for herself. We can’t know that for a fact. Maybe she drank one mug of the coffee, then tossed the OxyContin in her second serving.”
Annie twisted to look back into the living room. What if Henny was right? What if Pat had a guest? Then there would be two crystal mugs.
Annie felt a rush of excitement. “Billy, you said the mugs were crystal.”
He nodded. “Pretty pricey stuff. I got four of them for Mavis for her birthday.”
A Southern woman of Pat’s age would put out her best for company.
“Let’s find where she kept her crystal ware.”
Henny gestured toward the hallway. “In a breakfront in the dining room.” She led the way.
Billy looked through the glass pane. “Yeah. The stuff was in one of those mugs.” He reached out to open the breakfront.
“Wait.” Annie’s command was quick.
He looked at her.
She lifted a hand in supplication. “Billy, please do me one more favor.”
At the first peal of the phone, Annie glanced at her caller ID. She looked across the coffee bar at Henny. “Billy.” Now they would know. She clicked the speakerphone. “Annie here.”
There was an instant of silence. The police chief cleared his throat.
Henny leaned forward, her face intent, her posture tense.
“A technician—”
Annie mouthed silently, “Mavis.” Billy’s wife doubled as dispatcher and crime technician. She was careful, methodical, and meticulous.
“—checked the entire set of crystal mugs for fingerprints as well as the sugar bowl and cream pitcher. One mug yielded no fingerprints.” His voice gave no hint to his thoughts.
“None?” Henny’s demand was sharp.
“None.”
Henny slapped a hand on the counter. “You see what that means, Billy.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Someone washed the mug and replaced it in the breakfront without leaving any fingerprints.” His tone was neutral.
“A murderer.” Henny was firm.
“Or someone who was very tidy.”
“Please.” Henny sounded incredulous.
Billy spoke with equal firmness. “The evidence is open to interpretation. Conceivably, the last time she washed the mugs, she managed to dry one without leaving any fingerprints, perhaps holding the mug with one cloth, drying it with another. Alternatively, as you suggest, someone else carefully washed and dried a mug to remove fingerprints and placed the mug in the breakfront.”
Annie asked quickly, “How about the other chair?” Could fingerprints be taken from cloth?
“The chair arms yielded no prints.”
Henny was quick. “Not even Pat’s?”
“No prints.”
“Murder.” Henny was forceful.
Billy’s question was quick and sharp. “Who had reason to kill Pat Merridew?”
Henny’s reply was slow in coming, but honest. “So far as I know, no one.”
“At this point”—Billy sounded somewhat ponderous—“the file remains open. We will pursue inquiries.” A pause. “You knew her well. If you hear of anything that could assist us, please be in contact.” He ended the call.
Annie clicked off the phone.
