Pretty Poison

“Sometimes I’m not so sure about that.” Peggy stopped when she saw the horrified expression on Lenore’s face. She sometimes forgot that her old friend didn’t share her sense of the ironic. “Never mind about that. I’ll go and talk to Keeley. But you have to talk to her, too.”

“After you see her, I will,” Lenore promised. “Thank you, Peggy. I’ll think of something to say to her.”

“Something that doesn’t sound like Bible scripture thundering down from Reverend Jacob’s pulpit, I hope.”

Lenore smiled. “He was loud, wasn’t he? I still remember how many times I was about to drift off, and he started shouting. Mama used to say it was enough to scare the devil right out of the county.”

“But not what a young woman wants to hear from her mother after a thing like this.”

“I know. Don’t scold. You live in their world, Peggy. You have to expect the rest of us to be a little shocked by it. The idea that my daughter was with a man before she was married is still hard for me.”

“She’s twenty-one years old,” Peggy reminded her. “Just remember that you love each other.”

KEELEY WAS SITTING UP in bed when Peggy entered the room. She’d known the girl all of her life. She held Lenore’s hand when Keeley fell off of her bike and got a concussion at twelve. She took care of her many times when her parents went away on business. Now she looked at her and felt a little like her mother. She wasn’t sure what to say.

“I suppose Mom sent you in here because she couldn’t face me,” Keeley guessed.

Peggy hugged her. “How are you? The doctor said you’re fine, but he can’t see the important part of you.”

Keeley looked up at her. “Which part is that?”

“Your heart. I know it must be aching.”

“It was a stupid mistake, Peggy. I probably would’ve gotten rid of it anyway. It wasn’t anything yet. Just some tissue.”

“But you didn’t. And you can’t convince me that you didn’t know about it from the beginning. You’re too smart for that. Did you think he wanted the baby?”

“Yes.” Keeley’s bottom lip quivered. “I thought he loved me. How could I be so stupid?”

Peggy put her arms around her again. “Because you loved him. You wanted what everyone wants. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re not stupid for falling in love and believing someone loved you in return.”

Tears ran silently down Keeley’s pretty face. “Even if he was married?”

“Please don’t tell me—”

“It was Mark. I’m the one he was meeting at the Potting Shed. I was probably the last person to see him alive.”

Peggy didn’t want to believe it. “Have you told anyone else?”

“No. I told the doctor I didn’t know who the father was. I didn’t go to the police yet to give them my fingerprints because I was scared they’d find out.”

“Tell me everything about that night.” Peggy put her pocketbook on the side table and sat down close to Keeley. “Don’t leave anything out.”

The story poured out of her in low, uncertain tones. She met Mark at Bank of America while she was working with the plants. He asked her out for lunch, then for dinner. After a week of expensive restaurants and gifts, Keeley met him at the Omni Hotel. They went there a couple of nights every week for the past three months.

“He was funny, you know?” Keeley wiped the tears from her face. “He knew how to have a good time. I liked being with him. Then he called me one day and said it was over. I knew I was pregnant. He started coming to the shop at lunchtime with that other woman. I think he was trying to show me that he didn’t care about me anymore.”

“But he agreed to meet you one last time,” Peggy surmised. “You told him you were pregnant.”

“Yes. I thought it would make a difference to him.” She laughed. “He offered me money to get an abortion. He said he wouldn’t leave his wife.”

“So you met him at the shop that night, let him in, and argued with him about the baby. Then what?”

“I guess I got a little hysterical. He was drunk anyway. Slurring his words and unsteady on his feet. I didn’t want to talk to him anymore, so I ran out. He was still alive when I left. When I got home, my key was gone. I thought I left it in the back door, but I must’ve dropped it in back.” She gripped Peggy’s hand. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I was so afraid everyone would think I killed him.”

“Did you kill him, Keeley? You were upset. You weren’t thinking about what you were doing. The shovel was handy.”

“No! I didn’t kill him. I can’t believe you even have to ask me that question!”

“I’m sorry, honey.” Peggy hugged her. “But the police will ask you more than that.”

“Why do I have to tell them? I didn’t kill him. Maybe Homer did.”

Peggy stood up straight. “Let’s stop thinking of him as a cartoon character. His name is Joseph, not Homer. He’s in jail, and he’ll probably go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit either. You have to tell the police what happened.”

“How will that help Mr. Cheever? It’ll only make me a suspect. Then he won’t be in jail, I will. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not. But someone killed Mark. If nothing else, your recollections of that night could cause the DA