page came up, reading:
Max read the bios, then looked again at the Web site, which listed office personnel. His eyes settled on a familiar name. He reached for the phone. When he was connected, he spoke quickly, “ . . . I don’t want to interrupt your workday. I saw one of your watercolors at the library and I wondered if you would be interested in doing a painting for my office.” The law-firm building was a half block from the island’s newest business, a frozen yogurt shop. “Could I buy you a yogurt on your break?” He smiled. “See you there.”
Annie had scarcely noticed the neighborhood when she came to Pat Merridew’s house with Billy. Now she studied her surroundings. Pat’s house was on the wooded side of the road with no neighbors on either side. However, across the unpaved street several houses backed up to a lagoon. Two houses faced Pat’s cottage.
Annie pulled into Pat’s driveway, parked next to the blue Chevy. She glanced at the printout she’d made with the addresses and names of Pat’s near neighbors.
Annie slipped out of the car, shaded her eyes to look directly across the street. The one-story, pale lemon stucco house belonged to Mrs. Charlene Croft. About a hundred yards away was a gray stone ranch house. She glanced at her sheet. The owner was Mark McGrath. Pat’s drive and front porch were visible on an oblique line from the McGrath home.
She walked across the dusty unpaved road to the Croft home. Squirrels chittered and blue jays scolded as she knocked on the screen door. It popped open and a tiny, rail-thin woman with a mass of white curls and curious brown eyes peered at her.
Annie smiled. “Mrs. Croft?”
“You aren’t the nurse’s aide.” There was a quick frown. “Well, I’m not buying anything.”
As the door started to close, Annie said quickly, “I’m here because of Pat Merridew.”
The door was pushed wide. “Oh.” Her soft voice was quavery. “Such a shame. She was the nicest neighbor. When I broke my hip, she brought me casseroles and stayed to visit. She kept up with everyone in the neighborhood. The McGraths”—Mrs. Croft gestured to her left—“go to Minnesota every summer and Pat kept an eye on everything for them.”
“Are they gone now?”
Mrs. Croft nodded. “They left two weeks ago.” She cocked her head like an eager bird. “Are you family?”
“No, ma’am. I’m Annie Darling. I own the bookstore on the marina and Pat had just started to work for me.”
She nodded, the white curls quivering. “Pat told me she had a new job.” The wrinkled face drooped. “She was so excited. And now she’s gone. Are you taking up a memorial? I’ll get my purse.”
“Oh, no. I’m hoping to find out who visited her the night she died. You know, it would be helpful to the family to know if she had begun to feel ill.”
“Why, that’s the oddest thing. A police lady came by just a few minutes ago and asked me the same thing. I think it’s very nice of everyone to want to know what happened. But no one came to see her that night.”
Annie felt an instant of shock. “We were sure someone came.”
Mrs. Croft’s head shake was decided. “I sat on my front porch from supper time on in my swing. I was reading Ann Ross’s new book and I tell you I laughed until I almost cried and I didn’t move until it was almost ten, and the police lady said that a friend talked to Pat and she was sitting down to eat at six o’clock and I know that’s right because that’s when she always ate, and the police lady said that meant she died sometime between eight and nine o’clock.”
Annie understood. Time of death had been estimated on the basis of the state of digestion of her final meal.
Mrs. Croft looked regretful. “I should have known something was wrong when I looked out about two-thirty in the morning—I got up to rub some liniment on my hip—and her lights were still on. But I didn’t go check again because her lights had been on late ever since she lost her job at the law firm.”
Annie almost ended the conversation there. She was ready to speak when one word registered. “You ‘didn’t go check again’?”
Mrs. Croft nodded energetically. “Pat used to go to bed at ten every night after the evening news. You must think I am the world’s nosiest neighbor”—her smile was quick—“but I have bursitis and some nights I can’t sleep because of the pain. I get up and walk around and I was used to seeing Pat’s lights go off. Well, more than a week ago, the lights were on and it was past midnight. I was worried that maybe she was sick, so I put on my robe and shoes and went across and knocked on the door. And you know what?”
Annie shook her head.
“She didn’t answer the door.” Mrs. Croft’s tone was portentous.
Annie tried not to reveal her disappointment.
“That worried me, so I tried the door. Pat never bothered to lock up until right before she went to bed. I stepped inside and called out. No answer. I started looking around. Gertrude came up to me in a minute, though I could tell she’d been asleep. Pat wasn’t anywhere, not in the living room or the bedroom or little den or kitchen or bathroom. I was puzzled because her car was outside. Gertrude followed me all around. I went right through the house and out into the backyard thinking maybe she’d fallen and”—Mrs. Croft clapped her hands together—“here she came up the boardwalk. I told her I was so glad she was all right, that I’d come to check because her lights were on so late. She gave me a hug and said she had trouble sleeping and she’d gone for a walk.” Mrs. Croft’s animation fled. “After that I noticed her lights were on late every night. I didn’t worry about her Friday night. I thought she’d gone for another late walk.”
Max took a half spoon of raspberry and a half spoon of chocolate. “ . . . love to have a watercolor of the pier, a summer scene with people fishing.” His expression was enthusiastic.
Edna Graham smiled, easing the severity of an angular face with heavy dark eyebrows and strong nose and
