He or she must have acted in some sudden, uncontrollable fit of rage. But...hadn’t the murderer struck poor Lorella on the back of her head? She might not have seen her attacker coming. Dorothy hoped not.
What might the person have been angry about? Money? Family matters? A romantic entanglement?
Again, neither of those seemed likely to apply, in Lorella’s case. By all appearances, the librarian had lived quietly and frugally, and had no family. But one never knew...Could Charles Bell have killed her in some jealous rage or lovers’ quarrel? And who was The Snake that Trixie had warned her of, before she quickly decamped in her rented RV with an unsavory companion?
“So, what do you think, Mrs. Westin?”
Dorothy snapped to attention. Jennifer was looking at her expectantly, and she hadn’t heard a word the young woman had said. “Sorry, dear. I’m afraid I lost track of our conversation, for a moment or two.”
She hated lending the idea she was inattentive to conversation—or worse, prone to “senior moments.” But sometimes age did come in handy.
“That’s okay, Mrs. Westin,” Jennifer said. “I don’t think any of us are ourselves today, after”—her Rose Quartz lips quivered slightly—”what happened to Mrs. Caldwell. Do you think we should cancel the first book club meeting on Friday?”
“Absolutely not,” Dorothy said. The sooner she and Summer got things rolling, the better. The book club would be a perfect cover for learning more about Lorella Caldwell’s shadowy world. Her murderer might even show up to the meetings. Maybe the person hadn’t gotten what he or she wanted yet. Or maybe they were eager to ensure that whatever secret Lorella might have stumbled upon had gone to the grave with her.
“That’s only two days away.” Jennifer still looked worried, but then, the poor girl was always concerned about something. “The newsletter comes out tomorrow, and as you can see it’s already printed, but maybe I could—”
Dorothy reached over to pat Jennifer’s arm. “No need to change the date,” she said. “Summer and I will pull something together for Friday. Carrying on with the book club as Lorella planned will be a lovely tribute to her, don’t you think?”
“I guess you’re right,” Jennifer said. “I’m not sure that there will be any kind of other memorial.”
“There, then that’s settled.” Dorothy sat back on the couch and took a sip of her ice water.
Jennifer’s cell phone sounded at her waist, and she quickly silenced it. “It’s Roger,” she said, with a sigh. “I’d better go.”
“Of course.” Dorothy rose to see her guest out, expertly blocking Mr. Bitey’s paw with her shoe to prevent him from shredding the young woman’s panty hose—or worse. “You try to have a nice evening, now, Jennifer. Everything will be just fine.”
* * *
Summer strode confidently to the edge of the diving board, made a half pirouette, and bounced once or twice on the balls of her feet above the sparkling pool. The cloudless, late-afternoon sky was equally blue, and not even the slightest breeze rustled the palms.
Perfect.
She brought her arms up, chest level, then over her head, and bounced again, almost breaking the diving board as she launched herself high into the air. After an effortless double somersault, she executed a sharp jackknife and entered the water with crisply pointed toes.
No splash, of course. Just a cool, refreshing rush of H²O. And hopefully no more disturbing flashbacks of Lorella Caldwell’s dead, staring eyes.
She navigated the length of the pool underwater and emerged smoothly at the shallow end. Pulling herself up onto the ledge, she stretched out for a minute or two, letting her body soak up the fading heat of the concrete.
Summer loved this time of day, when all the residents were pregaming for their formal, five o’clock dinner in the Canyons Dining Room and she had the whole pool to herself. Usually, she headed back to
What might the person have been angry about? Money? Family matters? A romantic entanglement?
Again, neither of those seemed likely to apply, in Lorella’s case. By all appearances, the librarian had lived quietly and frugally, and had no family. But one never knew...Could Charles Bell have killed her in some jealous rage or lovers’ quarrel? And who was The Snake that Trixie had warned her of, before she quickly decamped in her rented RV with an unsavory companion?
“So, what do you think, Mrs. Westin?”
Dorothy snapped to attention. Jennifer was looking at her expectantly, and she hadn’t heard a word the young woman had said. “Sorry, dear. I’m afraid I lost track of our conversation, for a moment or two.”
She hated lending the idea she was inattentive to conversation—or worse, prone to “senior moments.” But sometimes age did come in handy.
“That’s okay, Mrs. Westin,” Jennifer said. “I don’t think any of us are ourselves today, after”—her Rose Quartz lips quivered slightly—”what happened to Mrs. Caldwell. Do you think we should cancel the first book club meeting on Friday?”
“Absolutely not,” Dorothy said. The sooner she and Summer got things rolling, the better. The book club would be a perfect cover for learning more about Lorella Caldwell’s shadowy world. Her murderer might even show up to the meetings. Maybe the person hadn’t gotten what he or she wanted yet. Or maybe they were eager to ensure that whatever secret Lorella might have stumbled upon had gone to the grave with her.
“That’s only two days away.” Jennifer still looked worried, but then, the poor girl was always concerned about something. “The newsletter comes out tomorrow, and as you can see it’s already printed, but maybe I could—”
Dorothy reached over to pat Jennifer’s arm. “No need to change the date,” she said. “Summer and I will pull something together for Friday. Carrying on with the book club as Lorella planned will be a lovely tribute to her, don’t you think?”
“I guess you’re right,” Jennifer said. “I’m not sure that there will be any kind of other memorial.”
“There, then that’s settled.” Dorothy sat back on the couch and took a sip of her ice water.
Jennifer’s cell phone sounded at her waist, and she quickly silenced it. “It’s Roger,” she said, with a sigh. “I’d better go.”
“Of course.” Dorothy rose to see her guest out, expertly blocking Mr. Bitey’s paw with her shoe to prevent him from shredding the young woman’s panty hose—or worse. “You try to have a nice evening, now, Jennifer. Everything will be just fine.”
* * *
Summer strode confidently to the edge of the diving board, made a half pirouette, and bounced once or twice on the balls of her feet above the sparkling pool. The cloudless, late-afternoon sky was equally blue, and not even the slightest breeze rustled the palms.
Perfect.
She brought her arms up, chest level, then over her head, and bounced again, almost breaking the diving board as she launched herself high into the air. After an effortless double somersault, she executed a sharp jackknife and entered the water with crisply pointed toes.
No splash, of course. Just a cool, refreshing rush of H²O. And hopefully no more disturbing flashbacks of Lorella Caldwell’s dead, staring eyes.
She navigated the length of the pool underwater and emerged smoothly at the shallow end. Pulling herself up onto the ledge, she stretched out for a minute or two, letting her body soak up the fading heat of the concrete.
Summer loved this time of day, when all the residents were pregaming for their formal, five o’clock dinner in the Canyons Dining Room and she had the whole pool to herself. Usually, she headed back to
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