Now I knew why.
“Where’d she go?” I asked.
“Washington. She’s visiting our congressmen and senators to keep them on their toes.”
If anybody could do that, Sally Berrigan would be the one. There was talk she was planning to run for mayor again in the next election, after a sound defeat last time. Our little city would be a very different place if she won.
“She’s coming back soon?” I tried not to sound hopeful.
“This evening. You can ask her about it yourself.” Yvonne had long since finished with her buttons. She put her hand on my arm. “Aggie, this could be a very serious matter. Just because Win was one of Ed’s predecessors, you don’t have to get involved. You’ve already done enough, making that announcement—”
“Climbing over the bench, knocking my own husband out of the pulpit, halting the graveside service, practically arm wrestling Hildy,” I finished.
“Yes, well, some things are best left to the police, right?”
I drew a blank, but I nodded like a team player. Yes, I had a reputation as an amateur sleuth, but Yvonne was right. This time I really needed to stay away. Win was my husband’s colleague, and his wife was, for lack of a better way to put it, mine. My role now was to offer comfort, not to dig for clues. In all fairness to the police, they usually did come to the right conclusion, if later in the game. For once I needed to do only what was expected. Casseroles. Hand-holding. Prayer.
So what if I wanted to call Detective Roussos right this minute and mine our odd little friendship for every bit of information he was willing to part with?
“I’m planning to stay out of this,” I told Yvonne.
She looked at me strangely, eyes narrowed, head tilted.
“What?” I demanded.
“Are you capable?” she asked.
It was a question I hoped to find an answer to in the next few days. But I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear a yes or a no.
4
Either Ed had borrowed a chain saw and was busily carving up our bedroom furniture, or my husband was snoring with terrifying gusto. I chose not to discover which and left our bedroom door closed.
Teddy was downstairs in the play corner of our dining room, giving her two American Girl dolls and Moonpie, our silver tabby, Spanish lessons. Teddy’s fourth grade teacher is a native speaker, and Teddy shares all new vocabulary with Molly and Josefina—although if Josefina could actually talk, she would certainly add some of her own. Moonpie is a recent addition to the classroom, and not a willing one judging from the number of times Teddy steered him back to higher education.
Teddy, having gotten home a few minutes before I did, had warned me about Ed. Her money was on the chain saw.
“Do you and the girls want to help me make pizza dough?” I asked, as I walked past the classroom on my way to the kitchen. “You’ll have to change clothes if you do.”
“We’re very busy,” Teddy said. “When we finish our lesson, we’re going to write letters to the mayor.”
I didn’t ask about what. I could see the pedestrian mall would be providing my daughter and her huggable friends with hours of entertainment.
I would have been happy to skip dinner entirely. Teddy had eaten sandwiches at the reception, and after everything that had happened, I had no appetite. But I still had a teenage daughter and a husband who might regain consciousness at some point in the evening. Pizza seemed sensible.
I proofed my yeast in warmish water while I assembled ingredients. I had turned on the stand mixer and was adding whole wheat flour to a rapidly forming dough when Deena walked in. Like Teddy’s, Deena’s coloring is her father’s. Her hair is strawberry blonde and Teddy’s is a bit redder, but they clearly swim in the same gene pool. Same dark blue eyes and peachy complexions to go with the hair. Had I not been awake and aware at both births, I would wonder if we were related.
Today Deena was dressed in a long turquoise hoodie over leopard
“Where’d she go?” I asked.
“Washington. She’s visiting our congressmen and senators to keep them on their toes.”
If anybody could do that, Sally Berrigan would be the one. There was talk she was planning to run for mayor again in the next election, after a sound defeat last time. Our little city would be a very different place if she won.
“She’s coming back soon?” I tried not to sound hopeful.
“This evening. You can ask her about it yourself.” Yvonne had long since finished with her buttons. She put her hand on my arm. “Aggie, this could be a very serious matter. Just because Win was one of Ed’s predecessors, you don’t have to get involved. You’ve already done enough, making that announcement—”
“Climbing over the bench, knocking my own husband out of the pulpit, halting the graveside service, practically arm wrestling Hildy,” I finished.
“Yes, well, some things are best left to the police, right?”
I drew a blank, but I nodded like a team player. Yes, I had a reputation as an amateur sleuth, but Yvonne was right. This time I really needed to stay away. Win was my husband’s colleague, and his wife was, for lack of a better way to put it, mine. My role now was to offer comfort, not to dig for clues. In all fairness to the police, they usually did come to the right conclusion, if later in the game. For once I needed to do only what was expected. Casseroles. Hand-holding. Prayer.
So what if I wanted to call Detective Roussos right this minute and mine our odd little friendship for every bit of information he was willing to part with?
“I’m planning to stay out of this,” I told Yvonne.
She looked at me strangely, eyes narrowed, head tilted.
“What?” I demanded.
“Are you capable?” she asked.
It was a question I hoped to find an answer to in the next few days. But I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear a yes or a no.
4
Either Ed had borrowed a chain saw and was busily carving up our bedroom furniture, or my husband was snoring with terrifying gusto. I chose not to discover which and left our bedroom door closed.
Teddy was downstairs in the play corner of our dining room, giving her two American Girl dolls and Moonpie, our silver tabby, Spanish lessons. Teddy’s fourth grade teacher is a native speaker, and Teddy shares all new vocabulary with Molly and Josefina—although if Josefina could actually talk, she would certainly add some of her own. Moonpie is a recent addition to the classroom, and not a willing one judging from the number of times Teddy steered him back to higher education.
Teddy, having gotten home a few minutes before I did, had warned me about Ed. Her money was on the chain saw.
“Do you and the girls want to help me make pizza dough?” I asked, as I walked past the classroom on my way to the kitchen. “You’ll have to change clothes if you do.”
“We’re very busy,” Teddy said. “When we finish our lesson, we’re going to write letters to the mayor.”
I didn’t ask about what. I could see the pedestrian mall would be providing my daughter and her huggable friends with hours of entertainment.
I would have been happy to skip dinner entirely. Teddy had eaten sandwiches at the reception, and after everything that had happened, I had no appetite. But I still had a teenage daughter and a husband who might regain consciousness at some point in the evening. Pizza seemed sensible.
I proofed my yeast in warmish water while I assembled ingredients. I had turned on the stand mixer and was adding whole wheat flour to a rapidly forming dough when Deena walked in. Like Teddy’s, Deena’s coloring is her father’s. Her hair is strawberry blonde and Teddy’s is a bit redder, but they clearly swim in the same gene pool. Same dark blue eyes and peachy complexions to go with the hair. Had I not been awake and aware at both births, I would wonder if we were related.
Today Deena was dressed in a long turquoise hoodie over leopard
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