An Old-Fashioned Murder by Carol Miller

later?”
    It was Drew’s turn to grin. “Promise?”
    Like a volcano on the verge of eruption, there was a deep rumbling from the direction of Lillian. Thankfully she was distracted once more before she could blow, this time by Henry Brent.
    â€œA real beauty, isn’t she?” he proclaimed loudly, as he stepped back to admire the secretary.
    â€œShe certainly is,” May agreed.
    Edna shook her head. “I had no idea that you sold it.”
    â€œIt was so exciting when Henry wanted it!” May told her. “We’ve had it in the back room forever—twenty years at least, maybe more. I don’t even remember how it ended up there. Why didn’t we ever move it out to the front for more people to see?”
    Edna went on shaking her head.
    â€œTippy,” Lillian said abruptly.
    â€œTippy?” Aunt Emily asked.
    Lillian pointed.
    Daisy followed her outstretched finger to the nook. As handsome as the secretary was, it was also very large. Seven feet high, nearly four feet wide, and two feet deep. It fit in the nook, but just barely.
    â€œShe’s right,” Sarah Lunt commented softly. “It’s tippy.”
    Drew frowned. “A bit too tippy.”
    Releasing Daisy’s hand, he walked over to the secretary for a closer look. Kenneth, Parker, and Henry Brent all joined him. They crowded around the piece like a group of mechanics examining an engine for an oil leak.
    â€œMaybe it’s too close to the molding,” Parker said.
    â€œThat doesn’t make it tippy,” Kenneth informed him. “That just keeps it from sitting flush against the wall.”
    â€œBut maybe if it were flush against the wall…,” Parker returned.
    Moving to one side, Drew studied the secretary’s profile. “It can’t sit flush against the wall, molding or no molding,” he determined. “The back of the bookcase extends beyond the back of the desk.”
    â€œIt does?” Parker and Kenneth said in unison.
    Henry Brent nodded. “There was a time when a good many secretaries—and a lot of other cabinets, too—were built that way. It’s designed to accommodate a chair rail, back in the days when most of the nicer houses still had chair rails.”
    â€œThe staircase here has a chair rail,” Aunt Emily reminded him. “And so do all of the bedrooms.”
    â€œYou could always move it to one of them,” Lillian suggested.
    â€œShould we try to catch the delivery boys—” May began anxiously.
    â€œâ€”before they drive off?” Edna finished.
    â€œThose two are long gone,” Drew replied. “They skedaddled the instant they got paid. And, no,” he added hastily, “I can’t move the monster all by myself.”
    â€œNo one would ever ask you to,” Daisy said, just to staunch the possibility of anybody even considering it.
    â€œFrankly,” Drew continued, “I don’t think an army of professional movers could get that secretary up the stairs. Ignoring the weight, it’s too big to maneuver around the turns and through those narrow doorways.”
    â€œI was about to say the same thing myself,” Kenneth agreed.
    â€œWell, I don’t want to move it,” Aunt Emily said. “Not unless we really have to.” She turned questioningly to Henry Brent.
    He appeared entirely unconcerned. “She looks fine to me.”
    â€œIt never fell over—” May said.
    â€œâ€”at the shop.”
    â€œWe never worried about it—”
    â€œâ€”or even paid any attention,” Edna concluded.
    Henry Brent clacked in accord with the sisters. “She’s been standing that way for a couple hundred years, and I’d wager she’ll keep standing that way for another couple hundred more.”
    That was apparently enough to reassure Aunt Emily, because after one last happy glance at the secretary, she turned from it and began herding