No Neighborhood for Old Women (A Kelly O'Connell Mystery) by Judy Alter Page A

dragged him outside.
    Not to be outdone, Em said to Theresa, “I have a cat, sort of. Mom, can I take Theresa outside to meet Emily?”
    I told her no, because Miss Claire didn’t feel well.
    Theresa immediately put her arms around a pouting Em and said, “Tell me about your cat, Em.”
    Later, we had brownies with milk, and then I sent the girls to bathe.
    “We took baths last night,” Maggie said indignantly.
    “Bathe again. It’s summer, and you sweat a lot.” I was merciless.
    With them out of earshot, I asked Theresa and Joe about what was going on in their lives. The report was good. Theresa worked as a sales “associate” at a small but pricey boutique. The owners liked her because she was tiny and could model their clothes to advantage, and she was good with customers, always polite. Joe, several years older, expected to earn his GED in a couple of weeks and worked at the Southwest YMCA. “I’m going to the junior college this fall,” he said. “It may take me a while, but I’m going to get a degree.”
    “Then it will be my turn,” Theresa said.
    Joe took her hand, “We’re both going to get our educations.”
    While the girls were still bathing, I asked Joe the question on my mind. “Joe, my former neighbor, Mrs. Dodson, an elderly lady, was hit in the head and killed a couple of nights ago. In her own backyard.”
    “The lady that walked that little dog,” Theresa reminded him.
    “Gus,” I said, “is that little dog. We took him in.”
    Gus has been sitting at our feet, and Theresa picked him up and talked softly to him about what a scare he’d had and what a good, loving home he’d found for himself.
    “Joe, the detective who came to see me this morning thinks it was a gang thing, but I can’t see that. It was Buck Conroy, who you remember.”
    “Yeah, I remember that guy. Not with good memories. Theresa says she told you he came to our apartment too.”
    “And he’ll be back,” I said. “He wants to talk to you. It would be easy for him to pin this on gang activity, and since you knew my house on Sixth, you might have somehow noticed Mrs. Dodson. At least I guess that’s what he’s thinking, which is ridiculous. My best advice is to be as honest and open as you can be.”
    He shook his head. “Killing a harmless old lady is not a gang thing, Miss Kelly. They pick on each other, not old ladies. Sounds to me like it was someone with a grudge.”
    The girls came back in, this time dressed in matching yellow nightgowns, and begged Joe and Theresa to come back more often. They gave hugs, and soon after they headed to bed, Joe and Theresa left too, saying their days started early. I told them they’d have to come to dinner soon, and I’d call them.
    Mike came by after his shift as usual. I dozed off on the couch, and it took me a fuzzy moment to wake up and let him in. He didn’t kiss me, he didn’t say hello, he just stormed in and stood making large gestures. “It’s worse than I thought,” he said. “The station’s flooded with phone calls from old ladies thinking they’re in danger, from the neighborhood association demanding more patrols, from the newspaper and TV people wanting to know what’s going on. That guy Hoskins called, insisting the neighborhood group, whoever they are, could do more.” He paused a minute. “I’m glad I don’t have a desk job and have to sit there and listen to that.”
    “Anything I can do?”
    “Yes,” he said, “stay out of it. Buck Conroy says you told him you met that Hoskins fellow. And Buck said you asked him if they’d checked for fingerprints, as if he wouldn’t do that first thing.” He shook his head. “I said it last night, and I’m repeating it, you can’t poke your nose into police business. It’s embarrassing for me—and could be dangerous for you.”
    I stared at the floor, like a scolded child. “I went into Mrs. Dodson’s yard to have a look because I never thought she fell down the stairs, and now you