possible to the sometimes hard-of-hearing Betty without being too close to the heat of the fireplace.
"Well?" Josie said before Helen even had a chance to sit down. "What really happened to Sheryl Toth?"
"I don't know." Helen dropped into her chair. "I was hoping you two could tell me. You usually have the best gossip in town. Did Detective Peterson make his regular visit to his uncle yesterday?"
"He was here," Betty said, bending down to get a replacement skein after coming to the end of the first one. "He just didn't have anything useful to say other than that they put the time of death at right around 6 a.m. The official line is that it was an accident but that they're just dotting all the i 's and crossing all the t 's to rule out homicide."
"So what do you think?" Josie said. "We trust you to figure out what really happened before anyone else does."
Helen might have let the praise go to her head, except she was fairly certain her five remaining pea seedlings had better insights into what had happened to Sheryl Toth than Detective Peterson did.
"All I know is that she was lying beside her own bulldozer in a place where it shouldn't even have been. The employee who usually operates it didn't know it was going to be there. Dale thinks it was some sort of message to the gardeners and the selectmen."
Betty nodded. "That sounds like something Sheryl would do."
"It could just have been an accident." Helen started to reach for her yarn bag, belatedly remembering that she hadn't planned to come here today, so she hadn't brought it with her to tuck into the space between her hip and the arm of the chair. It felt odd to be sitting here without it. Today was the first time in close to a year that she'd visited her friends here without having yarn in her lap and a crochet hook in her hand.
She forced herself to lean back and relax. "I'm a little worried that the investigation is going to be politicized. If the people who want the land sold have any evidence at all, or even credible speculation, that Sheryl was killed by someone in the garden club, they could use that to sway public opinion in favor of punishing the killer by selling the land."
"So you're going to find out what really happened." Josie gave Betty a triumphant look. "I told you Helen would get to the bottom of it. You're going to owe me a month's worth of desserts when she does. Get ready to pay up."
Betty didn't look up from what was apparently a complicated stitch, even for her. "Not unless Helen actually proves it was murder."
"I hadn't really planned on getting involved with another murder investigation. I'm going to be busy growing all my food. Well, except meat and dairy. And tea." Helen had found that a small amount of caffeine, not too much and definitely not combined with sugar, seemed to help stave off any recurrence of the lupus fog she'd experienced last fall. "Can I even grow tea in Massachusetts? I don't remember seeing it in any of my catalogs."
Betty and Josie looked at each other and shrugged. Betty explained, "We're not really gardeners. Or tea drinkers."
"It's much too healthy for my tastes," Josie said. "I stick to plain water since we're not allowed anything here that's actually fun to drink. I don't suppose you'd consider growing grapes and making your own wine, would you?"
"Not this year," Helen said. "And not in the future either if the garden gets sold before I find out whether it's something I feel as passionately about as you two do about your needlework."
"What about your crocheting?" Josie asked, pointing at Helen's empty hands. "Have you given that up? You were finally getting the hang of it."
"I just forgot my bag today," Helen said. "I do enjoy crocheting, but it's not that important to me. I find it relaxing, and it's for a good cause when I make the chemo caps, but it's not all that fulfilling for me. Not the way my work used to be." Politics had been messy and filled with people who were in it for the wrong reasons, but
"Well?" Josie said before Helen even had a chance to sit down. "What really happened to Sheryl Toth?"
"I don't know." Helen dropped into her chair. "I was hoping you two could tell me. You usually have the best gossip in town. Did Detective Peterson make his regular visit to his uncle yesterday?"
"He was here," Betty said, bending down to get a replacement skein after coming to the end of the first one. "He just didn't have anything useful to say other than that they put the time of death at right around 6 a.m. The official line is that it was an accident but that they're just dotting all the i 's and crossing all the t 's to rule out homicide."
"So what do you think?" Josie said. "We trust you to figure out what really happened before anyone else does."
Helen might have let the praise go to her head, except she was fairly certain her five remaining pea seedlings had better insights into what had happened to Sheryl Toth than Detective Peterson did.
"All I know is that she was lying beside her own bulldozer in a place where it shouldn't even have been. The employee who usually operates it didn't know it was going to be there. Dale thinks it was some sort of message to the gardeners and the selectmen."
Betty nodded. "That sounds like something Sheryl would do."
"It could just have been an accident." Helen started to reach for her yarn bag, belatedly remembering that she hadn't planned to come here today, so she hadn't brought it with her to tuck into the space between her hip and the arm of the chair. It felt odd to be sitting here without it. Today was the first time in close to a year that she'd visited her friends here without having yarn in her lap and a crochet hook in her hand.
She forced herself to lean back and relax. "I'm a little worried that the investigation is going to be politicized. If the people who want the land sold have any evidence at all, or even credible speculation, that Sheryl was killed by someone in the garden club, they could use that to sway public opinion in favor of punishing the killer by selling the land."
"So you're going to find out what really happened." Josie gave Betty a triumphant look. "I told you Helen would get to the bottom of it. You're going to owe me a month's worth of desserts when she does. Get ready to pay up."
Betty didn't look up from what was apparently a complicated stitch, even for her. "Not unless Helen actually proves it was murder."
"I hadn't really planned on getting involved with another murder investigation. I'm going to be busy growing all my food. Well, except meat and dairy. And tea." Helen had found that a small amount of caffeine, not too much and definitely not combined with sugar, seemed to help stave off any recurrence of the lupus fog she'd experienced last fall. "Can I even grow tea in Massachusetts? I don't remember seeing it in any of my catalogs."
Betty and Josie looked at each other and shrugged. Betty explained, "We're not really gardeners. Or tea drinkers."
"It's much too healthy for my tastes," Josie said. "I stick to plain water since we're not allowed anything here that's actually fun to drink. I don't suppose you'd consider growing grapes and making your own wine, would you?"
"Not this year," Helen said. "And not in the future either if the garden gets sold before I find out whether it's something I feel as passionately about as you two do about your needlework."
"What about your crocheting?" Josie asked, pointing at Helen's empty hands. "Have you given that up? You were finally getting the hang of it."
"I just forgot my bag today," Helen said. "I do enjoy crocheting, but it's not that important to me. I find it relaxing, and it's for a good cause when I make the chemo caps, but it's not all that fulfilling for me. Not the way my work used to be." Politics had been messy and filled with people who were in it for the wrong reasons, but
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