She took her time wiping the wet spot, making sure the table was completely dry. She then placed a stone coaster decorated with a picture of the White House beneath my glass.
Thinking she might need to calm down before we continued talking about the professor, I said, “Have you been to the White House?”
“Jack met the vice president. My ex-husband even made the trip. My wonderful, brilliant son wrote an essay on saving the environment, and he got to read it to the vice president.” She shook her head, and the tears returned. “He is so special, and I am such a failure as a mother. I drove his father away because I do this crazy stuff, and-”
“Jack is amazing. Do you think a crazy mom could raise a boy like him? You’re doing a fantastic job.” She certainly admired her boy, that’s for sure.
Robin took a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “You think so?”
I smiled. “I know so.” In some ways, I added to myself. “Now, tell me about this phone call-and pretend you don’t feel guilty, even though you do.”
She pulled a small bottle of gel hand cleaner from her pocket and started cleaning her hands. “He called late Friday afternoon. At first I thought he wanted to apologize again. But he never said he was sorry. And you know how he was stuttering when you and Candace caught him?”
“Right,” I said.
“None of that,” she said. “He sounded like a different person. Like a not-so-nice person.”
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He wanted more milk. Said I’d promised him milk and I should come through.” Robin’s cheeks reddened. “Did I promise him that? Because I don’t think that’s what I said, and I told him as much.”
“You didn’t promise him anything. You said you would have given him milk if he’d asked, but that’s not the same thing. And after what he did, I wouldn’t have given him the time of day. He scared you silly.”
She sighed. “Whew. That’s what I thought, but then he died and maybe I should have told him we could barter like he wanted to. But I never got the chance, really.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Huh? He wanted to barter?”
“He said he would give me cat food for Lucy-high-quality cat food, he called it-if I would give him raw milk.”
“But you didn’t take him up on this, I assume?” I said.
“I don’t think I would have, but see, I heard his doorbell ring then, and he said he had to go, that he’d get back to me. And today I find out that he’s dead. I feel so awful because I could have been more generous and understanding.”
“You and I should write a book-The Guilt-Lover’s Manual. I go overboard in the guilt department myself. I don’t believe I would have handled that call with generosity and understanding if I’d been in your shoes, though.”
She smiled for the first time. “The Guilt-Lover’s Manual. I like that.”
“Do you recall what time he phoned? This could be important information for the police.” I was wondering whether Professor VanKleet’s killer had actually come to his front door that day. Whoever freed the cats didn’t ring any doorbells; otherwise, they wouldn’t have had to cut the fence.
Robin said, “He called late in the afternoon, because Jack was home from school. Of course Jack started asking me questions when I hung up. I could tell he was upset.”
“Because you were upset, right?” I said.
“Yes, but I didn’t tell him anything. And now I still have to keep quiet. Jack shouldn’t hear about people being murdered in our town. He’ll have nightmares.”
But Jack already knows, I thought. Via the Internet? Probably.
“So VanKleet called in the late afternoon?” I said, but didn’t add that he was dead not long after. “The police will probably be looking at the professor’s phone records. Your number will come up, and they might want to talk to you. For now, I can tell Candace about this call when I see her. Would that be okay?”
Robin’s face relaxed, and I swear she looked ten years younger. “Would you do that? I hate bothering Candace all the time, and the rest of the police force is sick to death of me.” She covered her mouth with her fingers. “Oh. Not sick to death. That’s a horrible thing to say right now.”
“Remember our Guilt-Lover’s Manual? Are you writing another chapter this minute?” I said.
She smiled again. “You’re right. Thank you, Jillian. Amazing you came by at the right time to reassure someone who needed reassurance.”
Not as amazing as you might think, I thought. “I noticed a little guy with sad eyes when I got here. Can I offer a suggestion?” Jack had reached out to me, and I wanted to help him.
“Certainly,” she said.
I saw a wariness in her eyes that almost made me rethink what I was about to say. And then I realized that this had been Tom’s intent with Kara-to help, not to overstep. And that insight made me understand that I had to speak up for Jack. “This is just my opinion, but a child might not feel comfortable coming to the door wearing a surgical mask unless you’ve had a tuberculosis outbreak in the house.”
“But the chemicals could-”
I held up my hand. “Maybe you could send him outside when you have to clean-and I understand you need to do that right now. I’ll bet Lucy would love it if Jack came out and petted her. And there’s ball and Frisbee and, oh, I don’t know, rock collecting. Anything, Robin.”
She didn’t speak for a few seconds, and I thought I’d really pissed her off, but then she let out a big sigh and said, “I know you’re right. I should do that. No, I have to do that. It makes me uncomfortable, but I know if I don’t, he’s going to end up hating me.”
I put my hand on her upper arm. “I don’t think anyone could ever hate you.” Thunder rumbled and I added, “Maybe now’s not a good time for him to play outside, but later. When there are puddles to splash in.”
“Puddles. Oh boy.” She wrinkled her nose, but she offered the third smile of the day. Might be a record for her.
I said, “And now I’m off to hunt down Candace and tell her about that phone call you received from the professor.”
I left, but after I dashed to my van to avoid as many raindrops as I could and was putting my key in the ignition, I saw the blinds part in the front window. Then Jack stuck his hand through the slats and gave me a thumbs-up.
Fourteen
Once I was on the road, I tried Candace’s cell phone, hoping we could meet at Belle’s Beans. I wanted to tell her about Robin’s contact with the professor, but my call went straight to voice mail. I checked my watch. Almost noon. She’d worked yesterday at the professor’s farm gathering evidence, so maybe she was at her apartment, sound asleep.
Home sleeping with what she considered a murder investigation in progress? Think again, Jillian, I thought. Candace believed Morris Ebeling didn’t value her input, and if I knew her, she’d be hard at work hoping to prove him wrong. “Bet I know where to find you, my friend,” I said as I made a U-turn. I’d just passed the turnoff to VanKleet’s place and decided I’d drive by the old farm. My hunch was that the evidence hunter might have gone back for yet another look around that property.
But what I saw far down the road made me clench the steering wheel. Even though it was pouring now, I saw flashing patrol car lights, a fire engine and, as I got closer, Candace, wearing a dark green hooded slicker. She was placing orange cones in the road so no cars could go any farther than right in front of the professor’s farm.
Had they finally listened to her and decided this was a murder scene after all? But that wouldn’t have caused the Mercy brigade to show up here again. No. Something else had happened. Not anything good, either.
Just then a van passed me at mach speed, spraying rain and mud in its wake. I recognized Lydia Monk’s county coroner vehicle.
Uh-oh. Coroners show up for only one thing.
My chest felt tight as I pulled over near the ditch right before the professor’s driveway. I caught a warning look
