square chin. “I have several new watercolors of the pier.” Her eyes shone with eagerness. “I could bring some to your office tomorrow over my lunch hour.”
“That would be great.” His tone was hearty. Edna was reputed to be a superb legal secretary. He’d seen several of her paintings at the local artists’ community show at the library and they were pale and subdued for his taste. But a man in search of information did what a man had to do. “It’s outstanding that you have a successful career and find time to paint as well. Do you find painting a relief from the stress of your job?”
Max found Edna’s expression uncannily similar to one of his mother’s Cat Truth posters: a thick-furred, brown rosette-tabby Pixie-Bob, its wide rounded head held in a pose of supreme satisfaction:
“Oh”—her sigh was heartfelt—“you can’t imagine how stressful work can be. Everything has to be right when you are a legal secretary. No mistakes.” Her chin jutted. “I don’t make mistakes.”
“I suppose it’s been even harder since Pat Merridew left the firm.”
Edna looked offended. “Pat wasn’t a legal secretary. Believe me, no one would have trusted her with substantive work. She was a receptionist. She didn’t have anything to do with legal matters.” Her tone indicated disdain. Then her angular face softened. “Poor Pat. Such a shock about her death. Everyone’s awfully sorry. I can’t imagine anyone dying at her age.” There was a flicker in her eyes, the recognition of mortality sparked by unexpected death.
Max gave it one last try. “So Pat wasn’t privy to confidential information that would burden her.”
“No.” Edna’s reply was unconcerned. She glanced at her watch. “I must get back. I have a contract to finish. I’ll come to your office at noon tomorrow.”
Annie stopped at her car, tossed her purse in the trunk, then hurried around the side of Pat’s cottage. The backyard was shallow. Spanish moss and resurrection ferns dotted the live oaks. A slight breeze stirred dangling willow fronds. Patches of grass spread in irregular clumps on the dusty gray ground. A boardwalk led from the back steps of the cottage to an opening in the pine woods. Annie recalled the geography. She thought much of the wooded area behind Pat’s house was part of a nature preserve.
Lights gleaming late at night had drawn Mrs. Croft across the street. She had found Pat’s house empty and found Pat in the backyard coming up the boardwalk.
Annie looked at the woods. She had a healthy respect for island woods after dark when a fox might nose cautiously through undergrowth or a bobcat wait in ambush for an unwary deer. Yet Pat Merridew had been returning from the woods when Mrs. Croft came to check. Moreover, Mrs. Croft became accustomed to lights on late at night in Pat’s house, which suggested her foray into the woods might have been repeated. Maybe the deep darkness with the rustle of night creatures had soothed Pat.
Annie almost turned away, then stopped, staring at the dim entrance into the woods. Something had occurred recently in Pat’s life that had led to murder. Certainly late-night walks in the forest qualified as unusual. Annie walked swiftly across the yard.
In the woods, she studied a narrow path. With a shrug, she turned right. She followed a twisting, vine-shrouded path that grew ever fainter. The path finally ended at a murky lagoon with water as black as pitch. She’d not glimpsed a single house or offshoot trail. Hot and bug-nipped, she retraced her steps and paused at the opening into Pat’s backyard. She spoke aloud. “She was some kind of nut if she went that way.” With a sigh, Annie continued in the other direction. The path curved generally north and west. She waved away swarms of flies and no-see-’ums. Yaupon holly and ferns choked the ground beneath the canopy of live oaks, slash pine, and magnolias. A recent heavy summer rain had left puddles. She squished along the muddy trail, probably staining her cream leather loafers for all time. She was leaving a distinct set of tracks. A bicycle could have come this way, but she saw no tire prints.
Children’s voices rose in chatter and shouts.
Finally, a sign of life.
Annie carefully eased apart saw-palmetto fronds to reveal an asphalt parking lot behind a playground. She stepped warily, after a careful survey of the ground. She was well aware that rattlesnakes and alligators inhabited the woods. She let out a small breath of relief as she reached the parking lot unscathed. A chain-link fence bounded the playground. Toddlers scooped sand into buckets. Four- and five-year-olds swung, clambered up and down ladders to a wooden fort, slid down slides, or maneuvered on a small plastic climbing wall.
Annie walked past the small gray structure. In the street, she saw the entrance and a sign hanging from an iron post: HAPPY DAYS CHILD CARE. She noted the hours. The day care closed at seven P.M. Owner or staff might have been there on Friday evening, but the path would only be visible to someone standing in the parking lot and pulling aside greenery.
Annie reentered the woods, snagging her blouse on a saw-palmetto frond. A hundred yards farther on, she heard the yipping of dogs. Again she pulled aside fronds and recognized the back parking area of the island’s veterinary clinic. This time she didn’t bother to struggle through the undergrowth. Obviously, the path wasn’t usually accessed from either business site.
She almost retraced her steps, then, lips folded stubbornly, continued forward. The pines thinned to her left. Through the trees, she saw a gazebo, a garden with banks of azaleas, several plots filled with rosebushes, and the back of a three-story tabby home. The path at that point turned due east but a red-and-white barrier prohibited entry.
POSTED
RICE FIELD RECLAMATION
KEEP OUT
Very likely, the path beyond the barrier might be all but impassable. In the dark, Pat surely hadn’t continued.
Annie felt discouraged. Mrs. Croft saw Pat emerge from the woods, so clearly she’d taken the path. She hadn’t turned to the right unless she wanted to commune with a black lagoon. Clearly she’d traveled this way. But why? Moreover, she may have likely trekked into the woods not once, but several times. Mrs. Croft reported she’d continued to see lights late at night. Whatever Pat had done, wherever she had gone on the night Mrs. Croft came to check on her, she likely had gone again and again.
Where and why?
