Ritaestelle from Lydia’s blunt approach first. I said, “Lydia, this woman just got out of the hospital, and—”
“I know. That’s why I couldn’t question her before.” Lydia smiled at Ritaestelle and said, “Tell me about your troubles in Woodcrest.”
“But—” I started.
Ritaestelle held up one hand. “Thank you, Jillian. I most certainly do appreciate your concern.” She returned Lydia’s stare. “You may talk to Chief Nancy Shelton about certain accusations directed at me. She has all the details.”
Kara, whose expression showed keen interest in this subject, said, “This prior history goes to motive, Lydia?”
“That’s Assistant Coroner Monk to you,” Lydia said. “And it’s none of your business. Now, Miss Longworth, tell me why your personal assistant, Evie Preston, came
“I had no idea she was following me,” Ritaestelle said.
“So she followed you and not the other way around?” Lydia was scribbling in her notebook as she said this.
“Why would Evie come here if she wasn’t following Ritaestelle?” I asked.
“Because,” Lydia said, “you, Jillian, had unfinished business with the victim. I know you went to see Miss Preston and spoke with her.”
“But I went to see Miss Longworth, not Evie.” What in the heck was Lydia getting at?
Lydia twisted in my direction. “That’s what your story is today, but for some weird reason, you’re harboring a suspect. Did you and Evie Preston get into it the other day?”
Kara said, “You think Jillian had something to do with the murder?”
Lydia glared at Kara. “I’m asking the questions here.”
Ritaestelle said, “I understand your desire to do your job, Assistant Coroner Monk. My, that is a mouthful. Anyway, I believe I have asked and answered every question more than once prior to now. Surely you can consult with your fellow law enforcement professionals. I am very tired and I do not believe I could offer you any coherent answers at this time.”
Lydia leaned forward. “Are you aware that I have to get documents ready and issue a death certificate?”
“Oh my.” Ritaestelle lifted a hand to her lips. “I had not considered that. Of course you do. I want to help, but you seem so . . . angry with these kind women for some reason. May I assure you that they have done nothing wrong.”
I walked around Lydia’s chair and over to the couch. I sat next to Merlot, who lifted his head and croaked a meow before resuming his nap. Guess he was getting used to the crazy lady coming to call.
But I could see that Lydia had gotten to Ritaestelle. She now looked exhausted—probably because no one ever gets to sleep in the hospital and no one can take very much of Lydia without getting tired.
Lydia said, “I am aware you have an upstanding reputation, Miss Longworth, but I need answers. You say Miss Preston followed you here. Why would she do that?”
“I have no earthly idea,” Ritaestelle said. “That seems to be the biggest question—that and who followed
“Like who?” Lydia asked.
Kara looked at Ritaestelle with interest. Lydia seemed to be on point for once, and both Kara and I wanted to hear the answer.
“I do not know that either, but someone in my house was drugging me. Evie could have been part of that. Or she could have seen me leave and followed to protect me. Do you not agree that is what needs to be sorted out?”
“Oh, I do. Did you hit that young woman with something? Did her tailing you make you that mad?” Lydia said. Though she’d at least been polite to Ritaestelle up until now, that seemed to be over.
“I—I tried to help her as best I could. Why, if not for those voices I heard, and the cats escaping, poor Evie might have lain on that dock all night,” Ritaestelle said.
“What voices?” Kara said.
Lydia offered Kara a withering glance before saying, “What voices? The ones in your head?”
“No. Outside. I was
“Convenient.” Lydia looked at her watch. “My time is up here. I have an appointment with Miss Preston’s mother. There will be an autopsy, which she is resisting. But we have no choice.”
“Will you tell Evie’s mother that I send my sincere condolences?” Ritaestelle said.
“Do I look like a mail carrier? That’s
The slam of the door that came with her departure sent Merlot running for cover.
Nineteen
After Lydia’s not unexpectedly dramatic departure, Kara, Ritaestelle and I remained still and silent for several seconds.
Finally Ritaestelle said, “Might I use your telephone?”
I pulled my cell from my pocket and held it out.
Ritaestelle shook her head. “I am quite uncomfortable with cellular telephones. Do you have a real one?”
“Real one.” That was an interesting way to put it.
“I’ll get the landline.” Kara rose and went into the kitchen.
“I almost feel like I should apologize for Lydia. I see that she’s upset you,” I said. “But I have to admit, I’m not fond of her myself.”
“She is quite blunt, but that is not what I would call a bad thing, in this case. I should have already called Evie’s mother. In that tapestry bag that my cousin carried inside you’ll find a small address book. Would you mind fetching that for me?”
A minute later, Ritaestelle was speaking with Evie’s mother and saying how sorry she was that Evie had died so tragically.
Meanwhile, I put away the leftover cheese and crackers and Kara washed the cheese board and knife. Isis appeared at my feet after I closed the pantry door and began to mew repetitively—tiny little meows intended to inform me of something.
“Are you hungry?” I said.
Apparently not, because she trotted off toward the living room, fluffy tail high. Did she want to play? But then I tuned in to Ritaestelle’s voice.
She was pleading with Evie’s mother, saying, “Please give that coroner woman your consent, Loretta. Otherwise they will involve the county authorities and drag this thing on and on. You need to lay poor Evie to rest, and that cannot happen quickly without your help.”
I walked quietly to the edge of the dining room table that separates kitchen and living room. Isis was rubbing against Ritaestelle’s shins and still meowing. I stepped closer and saw tears streaming down Ritaestelle’s face. Even so, her voice was supportive and kind as she again encouraged Mrs. Preston to cooperate with Lydia.
I could see why Ritaestelle had been so respected in her community. She was strong but kind; she’d probably been an adviser to many. The accusations dogging her lately must have hurt her deeply, just as her nephew’s words had stung me.
Even her little goddess Isis wanted to help—or get me to help. I went to the couch and sat next to Ritaestelle, taking her free hand in mine. I squeezed it and she looked at me, gratitude evident in her eyes.