little ditty with at least a thousand verses about a man yearning to murder a woman.
When we were first married, I’d thought his selections were conscious, but I’d come to know he was innocent. Unaware of how clearly his choice of songs reflected his state of mind. That he didn’t know this about himself fascinated me because he was highly intelligent. But Josie had noticed it right away.
I wanted to break his guitar over his head. He was searching for the right words to take me on when he finished playing. To let me know he was worried.
Silently, I went to the doorway and watched. His hands are large and thick-fingered. I don’t understand how they can be capable of such dexterity. His jaw is square with a slight cleft. He’s the first man women notice when they step into a room.
The family was deeply damaged by Regina’s suicide. Keith most of all, though we never discuss it. He had thought it his duty to make that vain self-centered woman happy. Intellectually, he knows it doesn’t work that way. But when we were first married and I would come home from the historical society joyful over discovering an obscure historical document, there was a look in his eyes that can only be described as relief.
Then seven years later, I introduced the mother of all double binds: he hated my foray into law enforcement, but feels duty bound to support me if it makes me happy. But when situations might lead to physical danger, it’s painful to watch Keith struggle.
Deep down, he would like me barefoot and pregnant. Metaphorically, that is, because I never have been either—pregnant, anyway. By choice.
Starting a family was a big decision when one’s husband is twenty years older and I have a stepdaughter older than I. And although we’ve been married seven years now, I’m still the wicked stepmother to Elizabeth.
For a brief period after I had responded courageously during last fall’s crisis dealing with an elusive criminal, I had hoped our truce, her admiration would last. But it was a shadow victory, fraught with problems.
I sighed. I wasn’t being fair to Keith. He was worried about the video riling people up, and his lovely old-fashioned protective instincts were the traits I loved the most. He wouldn’t be the same person without them.
When he reached the verse, “Oh, Willie dear, don’t kill me here, I’m unprepared to die,” I smiled and walked over and gave him a hug. “I’m going to catch up on my sleep. I’m done in.”
He said nothing. Just stood and wrapped his arms around me. I buried my face against his broad chest and he kissed the top of my head. I left and started up the stairs.
The phone rang. Keith answered, then called up to me. “It’s Sam.” He came up the stairs with the handset.
“Lottie we’ve got a serious problem,” Sam said. “Mary did not die of a heart attack.”
Chapter Eleven
Time seemed suspended. “Well, what then?”
“The district coroner doesn’t know. They don’t have the resources to find out.”
“Please, please tell me they didn’t use embalming fluids before they discovered this.”
“They didn’t. The KBI is taking her to Topeka immediately. Her family couldn’t claim the body anyway now until the pathology department figures out the cause of death.”
“I looked through her purse again to see if we overlooked something the first time. There were no hidden pockets.”
“Did you wear gloves?”
“No. By now we have about a jillion fingerprints on everything anyway. I went through the checkbook again to see if there were slips of paper between the pages. The Wal-Mart receipts were for groceries. There was nothing unusual in the cosmetic bag and the mending kit came from a Super Eight.”
He sighed. “I feel like a fool.”
“I’ll call you right back. I want to take another look at that bag of supplies she was going to take to persons around here.” In fact, tired as I was, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I checked out
When we were first married, I’d thought his selections were conscious, but I’d come to know he was innocent. Unaware of how clearly his choice of songs reflected his state of mind. That he didn’t know this about himself fascinated me because he was highly intelligent. But Josie had noticed it right away.
I wanted to break his guitar over his head. He was searching for the right words to take me on when he finished playing. To let me know he was worried.
Silently, I went to the doorway and watched. His hands are large and thick-fingered. I don’t understand how they can be capable of such dexterity. His jaw is square with a slight cleft. He’s the first man women notice when they step into a room.
The family was deeply damaged by Regina’s suicide. Keith most of all, though we never discuss it. He had thought it his duty to make that vain self-centered woman happy. Intellectually, he knows it doesn’t work that way. But when we were first married and I would come home from the historical society joyful over discovering an obscure historical document, there was a look in his eyes that can only be described as relief.
Then seven years later, I introduced the mother of all double binds: he hated my foray into law enforcement, but feels duty bound to support me if it makes me happy. But when situations might lead to physical danger, it’s painful to watch Keith struggle.
Deep down, he would like me barefoot and pregnant. Metaphorically, that is, because I never have been either—pregnant, anyway. By choice.
Starting a family was a big decision when one’s husband is twenty years older and I have a stepdaughter older than I. And although we’ve been married seven years now, I’m still the wicked stepmother to Elizabeth.
For a brief period after I had responded courageously during last fall’s crisis dealing with an elusive criminal, I had hoped our truce, her admiration would last. But it was a shadow victory, fraught with problems.
I sighed. I wasn’t being fair to Keith. He was worried about the video riling people up, and his lovely old-fashioned protective instincts were the traits I loved the most. He wouldn’t be the same person without them.
When he reached the verse, “Oh, Willie dear, don’t kill me here, I’m unprepared to die,” I smiled and walked over and gave him a hug. “I’m going to catch up on my sleep. I’m done in.”
He said nothing. Just stood and wrapped his arms around me. I buried my face against his broad chest and he kissed the top of my head. I left and started up the stairs.
The phone rang. Keith answered, then called up to me. “It’s Sam.” He came up the stairs with the handset.
“Lottie we’ve got a serious problem,” Sam said. “Mary did not die of a heart attack.”
Chapter Eleven
Time seemed suspended. “Well, what then?”
“The district coroner doesn’t know. They don’t have the resources to find out.”
“Please, please tell me they didn’t use embalming fluids before they discovered this.”
“They didn’t. The KBI is taking her to Topeka immediately. Her family couldn’t claim the body anyway now until the pathology department figures out the cause of death.”
“I looked through her purse again to see if we overlooked something the first time. There were no hidden pockets.”
“Did you wear gloves?”
“No. By now we have about a jillion fingerprints on everything anyway. I went through the checkbook again to see if there were slips of paper between the pages. The Wal-Mart receipts were for groceries. There was nothing unusual in the cosmetic bag and the mending kit came from a Super Eight.”
He sighed. “I feel like a fool.”
“I’ll call you right back. I want to take another look at that bag of supplies she was going to take to persons around here.” In fact, tired as I was, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I checked out
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