Goose in the Pond - Earlene Fowler [34]
“Not much,” I said. “But he’s got everyone he can spare working on it.” I hugged my bare upper arms. For some reason, though the temperature had already started climbing toward the high eighties, his house felt like a refrigerator. “They’ll find who did this, Nick.”
He squinted at me, his light eyes cynical. “I’m glad you have so much confidence in our boys in blue. Too bad they couldn’t be there when someone decided to kill her.”
I didn’t answer. His remark was unfair, but I also knew from experience that during those first few days after such a shock, a person can’t always be held responsible for what they say. I picked up a pillow needlepointed with the figure of a soaring eagle and pretended to study the stitchwork. “Do you need help planning the service?” I asked gently.
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Man, I’m sorry, Benni. I sound like an ungrateful ass. I know Gabe’s doing his best. I’m just so angry at whoever did this, I can’t see straight.” He thrummed his fingers down the strings of the guitar, then stopped their sound with the flat of his hand. “Truthfully, I don’t know what to do and I don’t even know who to ask.”
“I can ask Gabe when they will release her,” I offered.
“You know it was just me and her. This is all my responsibility now, and with the two of us she was always the one—” His voice broke. “She would be the one to find out these things.”
“I know, but she had friends. You have friends. We’ll help you.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled, staring out the huge picture window into the ash tree’s thick foliage. I followed his gaze. Through the leaves, the sloping umber hills of San Celina seemed to undulate before our eyes. “I hope they found something in her apartment.” He looked back at me. “And I hope they’re looking real close at Roy and his horsey girlfriend. They had more reason to want her dead than anyone.”
Again I didn’t answer. One of the problems with living in the same small town your entire life was sometimes your loyalties got intertwined and complicated. Although Roy annoyed me sometimes with his smart-ass personality, he was basically a good guy. And I liked Grace. I liked her a lot. I didn’t want to believe either of them would kill Nora.
“I’ll call you as soon as I find out about when they’ll release Nora,” I said, standing up. “Is there anything else I can do? Do you have enough food? Want me to go grocery shopping for you?”
His face softened, and he gave a quiet laugh. For the first time since I walked in, he looked more like the kindhearted guy I’d known for years. The guy who would spend an hour helping a schoolchild find all the right reference materials for an overdue report on California missions or help a frightened senior citizen research a list of medicines prescribed to them by a doctor too busy to explain the side effects. “I’m eating fine,” he said, pointing to the coffee table full of fast food wrappers. “You remind me of Nora. She was always concerned I wasn’t eating enough.”
“You loved each other very much,” I said.
His eyes teared up. “Yes.”
“We’re doing a special tribute to her at the storytelling festival,” I said. “Maybe you’d like to come see it.”
“Is Roy going to be there?”
“There’s nothing I can do about that, Nick. He’s in the program.”
“Then I’ll pass. But thanks for thinking of her.”
“Nick, when the detectives talked to you, did they ask who—”
He broke in. “I think I know what you’re going to ask. I told them that the only person I knew who could possibly want her dead was Roy Hudson and that woman he left my sister for. They are the only ones who could benefit from her death, and frankly, any man who could screw around on his wife when his son is dying is capable of anything in my book.”
At the door, he studied me for a long minute before speaking. “I was the last one to see her.”
“What?”
“Gabe didn’t tell you?”
I shook my