can be hard to get over.” He shook himself, as if physically trying to change the subject. “Let’s take a look inside.”
Will paused for a second, drawing a small jar of salve from his pocket. He scooped a little on his finger and then dabbed it under his nose. Sunny caught the pungent scent of menthol. “Are you allergic to overgrown grass?” she asked.
The constable shook his head. “This stuff cuts bad smells, and I’m sure we’re going to find some in there.” Heoffered her the jar. “Try it. I’ve seen guys use it when they had to check out overripe corpses.”
“Great,” Sunny muttered, dabbing a little salve in place. “Now I’m going to have morbid associations whenever I have a cold.”
They went around to the backyard, peering into the darkness beyond the cellar door. “Gordon?” Sunny called. “You in there?”
A screech almost as loud as the one from her damaged car door came in answer. Then hurried footsteps pattered down the cellar stairs, and Gordie Spruance came into view. He wore old jeans, a flannel shirt buttoned all the way up to the neck, a watch cap, and a surgical mask.
Well, there goes our chance of checking out the pantry door,
Sunny thought. That could get chalked up just as bad luck. But as her eyes got used to the dimness, she saw black garbage bags piled up around the spot where Ada Spruance had fallen.
Well, if it was a crime scene, it’s certainly all disassembled now.
Sunny remembered the suspicion that had led her to publicize the winning lottery ticket in the first place.
Either very convenient—or very clever.
Right now, though, Gordie didn’t look very clever. Red-rimmed eyes stared at Sunny for a moment. “Oh. Sunny, right? Mom said you’d be coming over to help her. But—”
“I know,” Sunny put in gently. “I’m the one who found her this morning.”
“Sorry for your loss,” Will added.
“We just thought we’d come by and … see how you were doing,” Sunny improvised. “Seemed like the neighborly thing to do.”
“It’s just a big mess.” Gordie made a helpless gesture, his eyes darting around at the garbage bags. “Even worse than it was when I left.” He looked at Sunny. “I had to move out—I’m allergic to the damn cats.”
So we don’t know if those red eyes are due to grief or cat dander,
she thought.
“Come up and see.” Gordie abruptly turned and headed upstairs.
The steps up to the pantry were steep and thick with disturbed dust. Will used Sunny for cover, trying to get a good look at them in the gloom. Sunny wasn’t exactly sure what sort of marks a falling body would make on such a coating. She imagined a person tumbling down the steep stairway would pretty much leave traces on every step. Here it seemed that the dust was very disturbed at the bottom, but the higher she got, the more there seemed to be just scuffed foot marks. So either poor Ada had gone more than halfway down the stairs she never used and attempted a swan dive … or been thrown some distance before actually hitting the treads.
At the top of the stairway, Will Price directed a significant look at the pile of paint chips on the floor beneath the door leading into the kitchen pantry. Clearly the door had only recently been forced open.
But did that happen when Ada went through—or when Gordie did?
Sunny wondered.
The door screeched open, and they moved through a skinny, shelf-lined space into the kitchen itself. While the appliances were old, they looked reasonably well kept: the stovetop was clean, as was a small tray table and chair bythe window where Ada had apparently taken her meals, at the edge of a lighter spot on the linoleum where a larger kitchen table must once have stood. The remaining open space had been used to create a sort of feeding station for the cats. At least a dozen metal bowls of dry food and fresh water stood in a row along the wall.
Will stepped over to the open kitchen cabinets, eyeing the empty shelves, their
Will paused for a second, drawing a small jar of salve from his pocket. He scooped a little on his finger and then dabbed it under his nose. Sunny caught the pungent scent of menthol. “Are you allergic to overgrown grass?” she asked.
The constable shook his head. “This stuff cuts bad smells, and I’m sure we’re going to find some in there.” Heoffered her the jar. “Try it. I’ve seen guys use it when they had to check out overripe corpses.”
“Great,” Sunny muttered, dabbing a little salve in place. “Now I’m going to have morbid associations whenever I have a cold.”
They went around to the backyard, peering into the darkness beyond the cellar door. “Gordon?” Sunny called. “You in there?”
A screech almost as loud as the one from her damaged car door came in answer. Then hurried footsteps pattered down the cellar stairs, and Gordie Spruance came into view. He wore old jeans, a flannel shirt buttoned all the way up to the neck, a watch cap, and a surgical mask.
Well, there goes our chance of checking out the pantry door,
Sunny thought. That could get chalked up just as bad luck. But as her eyes got used to the dimness, she saw black garbage bags piled up around the spot where Ada Spruance had fallen.
Well, if it was a crime scene, it’s certainly all disassembled now.
Sunny remembered the suspicion that had led her to publicize the winning lottery ticket in the first place.
Either very convenient—or very clever.
Right now, though, Gordie didn’t look very clever. Red-rimmed eyes stared at Sunny for a moment. “Oh. Sunny, right? Mom said you’d be coming over to help her. But—”
“I know,” Sunny put in gently. “I’m the one who found her this morning.”
“Sorry for your loss,” Will added.
“We just thought we’d come by and … see how you were doing,” Sunny improvised. “Seemed like the neighborly thing to do.”
“It’s just a big mess.” Gordie made a helpless gesture, his eyes darting around at the garbage bags. “Even worse than it was when I left.” He looked at Sunny. “I had to move out—I’m allergic to the damn cats.”
So we don’t know if those red eyes are due to grief or cat dander,
she thought.
“Come up and see.” Gordie abruptly turned and headed upstairs.
The steps up to the pantry were steep and thick with disturbed dust. Will used Sunny for cover, trying to get a good look at them in the gloom. Sunny wasn’t exactly sure what sort of marks a falling body would make on such a coating. She imagined a person tumbling down the steep stairway would pretty much leave traces on every step. Here it seemed that the dust was very disturbed at the bottom, but the higher she got, the more there seemed to be just scuffed foot marks. So either poor Ada had gone more than halfway down the stairs she never used and attempted a swan dive … or been thrown some distance before actually hitting the treads.
At the top of the stairway, Will Price directed a significant look at the pile of paint chips on the floor beneath the door leading into the kitchen pantry. Clearly the door had only recently been forced open.
But did that happen when Ada went through—or when Gordie did?
Sunny wondered.
The door screeched open, and they moved through a skinny, shelf-lined space into the kitchen itself. While the appliances were old, they looked reasonably well kept: the stovetop was clean, as was a small tray table and chair bythe window where Ada had apparently taken her meals, at the edge of a lighter spot on the linoleum where a larger kitchen table must once have stood. The remaining open space had been used to create a sort of feeding station for the cats. At least a dozen metal bowls of dry food and fresh water stood in a row along the wall.
Will stepped over to the open kitchen cabinets, eyeing the empty shelves, their
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