“Well, it certainly works. This is delicious. And I was so in need of a pick-me-up. I am glad that when I saw the cottage I thought to knock.”
“Tense day?” Marjory’s tone was offhand, but she peered at me carefully, as if she was looking for an answer rather than lending support.
I pretended to hesitate, as if I was not sure whether I should speak. And when Marjory inclined an ear closer, I said, “I am so worried about Dolores. I suppose you heard . . .”
“Heard? Heard what?” Marjory’s face expressed a mixture of curiosity and alarm. “Is she all right?”
“Physically, yes. She is perfectly fine, but emotionally . . .” I looked down at the table and shook my head ever so slightly. “You didn’t hear this from me, but I’m sure that the word has already spread around some quarters, so I may as well tell you . . .”
Marjory was leaning so low across the table that her chin threatened to knock the lid right off the teapot.
I lowered my voice as if afraid of being overheard, even though we were completely alone. “It’s Sheriff Halvorson. He’s declared Dolores a person of interest in Willis’s murder.”
Marjory’s head snapped up and she stared at me, wide-eyed. “Willis was murdered?” It was a convincing expression of innocence. But it could be meaningless. She might have rehearsed it, waiting for this moment.
“According to both the coroner and the sheriff, yes, Willis was definitely murdered.”
“And they think Dolores . . . Why, that’s . . . that’s ludicrous. Willis Nickens was an evil, brutal man but Dolores loved him. I never understood how she could, but I am sure she did. Anyway, she’s such a sweet lady. I don’t think she could swat a fly, much less hurt a person, especially one she cared about.”
“I agree completely. We all have to hope and pray that the real killer is caught and that Dolores comes through this crisis unscathed.” I held out my cup. “May I have a bit more tea?”
I stayed long enough to finish a cupcake and promise to try the turmeric trick the next time I was making anything mocha.
When enough time had passed, I stood up. “Thank you so much for letting me unburden myself. I feel so much better.”
“Please, Jessica, stop by anytime. That’s what friends are for, and this tragedy has certainly made our friendship warm up faster than it otherwise might have.”
I was sure what she really meant was: Come over anytime you have more news about the goings-on at Manning Hall.
When I got to the pine trees I turned, and Marjory was still standing in the doorway. We both waved good-bye, and after she shut the door, I began a mental countdown. Ten, nine, eight . . . , and I wondered what number I reached before she picked up the telephone. I didn’t have to wonder who she would call. I already knew.
I jogged to the back door of Manning Hall, and when I let myself in, the kitchen was all abuzz.
Abby was at the table sharing milk and cookies with Elton, who was regaling her with a story about Martians and moon men that had her giggling between bites of chocolate chip.
Marla Mae said, “Good to see someone is up and about.” She ticked off on her fingers. “Miss Dolores is still upstairs. Mr. Clancy went home for a few changes of clothes, although he knows full well that we have a perfectly good washer and dryer here. As for Mr. Crayfield, he did mumble something about business and the office.”
“Willis’s office? The one here in the house?” I was rattled. Did Norman have a key? If he found the folders I wanted to read, I might never see them again.
“No, ma’am. Some other office.”
That was a relief. It was imperative that I get those folders out of the office and hidden in my room the minute Dolores came downstairs.
“Mr. Crayfield is always talking about going to the office or coming from the office. Sort of like Uncle Jasper.” Marla Mae snickered.
“Uncle Jasper?” I had no idea who he was, but expected I was about to find out.
“When we was children, old Uncle Jasper and a few of his cronies used to spend a large part of their days sitting on the side porch of Turner’s Feed Store playing checkers and taking the occasional sip of hooch. They claimed to be spending their time talking smart and solving all the world’s problems. Called that rickety porch their office. You reckon Mr. Crayfield has a porch somewhere?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Now, that wouldn’t surprise me at all.”
Dolores walked into the kitchen, looking tranquil and refreshed. “Sounds like there’s too much fun in this kitchen.” She bent down and kissed the top of Abby’s head. “Is that true, princess? Is there too much fun?”
“Oh, Granny Dolores, didn’t you tell me lots of times we can never have too much fun? Mr. Elton is telling me about moon men and Miss Marla Mae is talking about funny offices. Miss Lucinda is chopping potatoes—I was counting the times the knife hit the wooden board. Thirty-seven.”
Every adult in the room looked at the child in amazement.
Dolores said, to no one in particular, “What is that old saying about little pitchers?”
“They have big ears,” Abby shouted gleefully.
We adults couldn’t contain our laughter. Dolores sat down and tugged on one of Abby’s ears. “Yes, they do. Now tell me, are you willing to share a cookie with me?”
Abby passed the plate of cookies and pointed to a cookie in the center. “Take that one, Granny Dolores. I think it’s the biggest. Daddy went to our house to get some clothes. I wanted to go with him so I could get Marilyn, my glitter monkey. I want to introduce her to Fluffy.” She pulled the wooden rabbit out of her pocket. “Daddy said I should stay here and he would bring Marilyn back for me. I hope he doesn’t forget.”
Dolores and
