Fern groaned. “I’m sorry, Charlee.”
“It’s fine.” I left it at that. I didn’t want to mention anything else about Cole because Fern would make more of it than it was, and I doubted he would be flirting with me again. I was only here temporarily anyway. “I was planning to take some bread to Patty Henderson today. Do you know if she has company? I don’t want to barge in.”
“I think her daughter might be in town. But the bread is a nice gesture. I do feel really bad for Patty, even if she did kill her husband.” Fern took her tea over to the table and sat down.
“I thought you said you didn’t think Patty did it.”
“I don’t think it’s likely, but is it possible? Sure,” Fern sipped her tea. “If anything, maybe she can shed some light on who may have killed Earl.”
I hoped so. Because at this point, all evidence pointed to Fern.
Later, when the bread was done, I placed it in a basket with one of Fern’s pretty cloth napkins. It smelled delicious. I made the short trek next door, walked up the porch steps, and rang the doorbell.
My stomach felt like I’d eaten the bread dough— unsettled and sour. I took a calming breath as I mentally rehearsed what I’d planned to say. I’d never done something like this before, and with her being a grieving widow, I needed to tread lightly.
The door opened, revealing a woman of average height in her mid-sixties with short dyed auburn hair. She wore jeans, a blouse, and a frown.
“Hi, Mrs. Henderson, my name is Charlee King. I’m Fern’s niece.”
Her frown turned to a scowl. “You’re the one who found Earl.”
“Uh, yes. I’m so sorry for your loss.” I held out the basket. “I made you some bread.”
She leaned forward slightly, eyeing the basket like a snake might be hiding under the napkin. Then she stepped to the side. “Would you like to come in?”
I smiled. “Thank you.” I wasn’t expecting that after her initial greeting, but the bread did smell amazing, so perhaps that was enough to soften her up. I followed her past the living room, down a short hall into the kitchen. The Hendersons’ house was probably built in the sixties. It looked like the kitchen had been updated about twenty years ago, so it was still outdated.
“Would you like some coffee or tea?” she asked politely.
“Sure, coffee would be nice,” I replied.
She poured two cups and motioned for me to sit at a table overlooking the backyard. That part of her house was similar to Fern’s, except for the Hendersons’ backyard was beautifully landscaped. Even though it was well into fall, the flower beds and shrubs were immaculate.
“You have a beautiful yard,” I said, taking a sip of coffee.
She sighed. “Thank you. I enjoy gardening and flowers. After Earl retired, he helped more, and we put in the arbor with the wisteria. But now…” She blinked several times; either she was a great actress or she loved her husband. She turned to me. “I’m sorry you had to be the one to find him.”
“Oh.” I hesitated, unable to think of a better response.
“I still don’t know what he was doing over at Fern’s. Well, other than chasing the alpacas.” Her cool tone highlighted her frustration. “I don’t mind animals, but I don’t understand why your aunt couldn’t just get a dog.
“First it was those nasty goats, and then the alpacas. Earl was convinced there must be some restriction on farm animals in the neighborhood, but when he went down to the county planning department, they just laughed. But it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Why is that?”
“I’m moving to Arizona.” She took a sip of her coffee. “My daughter’s here and meeting with an estate dealer. I’m ready to downsize and be done with this place. She lives in Scottsdale.”
“That sounds nice,” I replied, trying to think of how to ask the questions I needed the answers to.
“Yes, Earl and I had planned on moving there sometime in the next few years, but now I decided to move that timeline up a bit.”
“Mrs. Henderson,” I began.
“You can call me Patty.” She offered a sad smile.
I swallowed, hoping I wouldn’t tick her off with what I was going to say. “Patty, you mentioned that you didn’t know why Earl would have been over at Fern’s. Do you know if he had an argument with anyone recently?”
Her scowl returned. “Other than Fern, you mean.”
“Oh, yes, well, I know my aunt—”
“I know Fern didn’t kill Earl. They may have butted heads over her ridiculous pets, but I know she didn’t kill him.” Patty leaned back in her chair and picked up her coffee again.
Whew. “Did you happen to hear anything that night?”
“No, I was asleep. Earl often stayed up late to watch TV, and he slept in the guest room down the hall. He snores,” she added. Her alibi was impossible to prove, but I believed her. “Like I told the police, I don’t know anything. And I know the spouse is often suspected, but what would be my motive to kill him?”
“Insurance policy?” I braved the risky question. Her coffee cup clanked on the worn oak table.
“Is that what you think?” she glared at me.
“I know it’s what other people might think,” I said innocently. “Earl was in the insurance business.”
“Yes, he was,” she agreed. “But there isn’t a policy. When Earl sold the business to his partner, Russell, that was our retirement. I didn’t need an insurance policy.”
That was interesting. According to Walter’s scuttlebutt, Earl wasn’t pleased about his arrangement with his former partner. I needed to look into that further. Patty and I chatted a little longer, and then I left when her daughter returned.
Now I was around ninety-five percent certain that Patty
