Goose in the Pond - Earlene Fowler [48]
“I’ll stick to being a murder suspect, thank you, ma’am,” she said. “Less stressful. With this storytelling festival coming up, sounds like you’ve really got your hands full.”
“No kidding.” Her mention of the festival reminded me of Peter’s complaint about Roy’s story. “Have you heard Roy’s story for the festival?”
“Only about a hundred times. Why?”
I explained about Peter’s objection.
“For cryin’ out loud,” she said. “There’s not a thing wrong with the story Roy’s telling. It’s all about a cow-camp cook and his rock-hard biscuits. There’s not an environmentalist within a hundred miles of it.”
“What do you think this is all about, then?”
“Roy’s probably just making up stuff to irritate Peter. You know how Roy feels about those open-space people. They’ve tangled before at city council meetings.”
“Roy wouldn’t do anything to cause a ruckus at the festival, would he?”
“Like what?”
“Like tell this story that he’s been teasing Peter with.”
She shook her head. “No way. That would only make Roy look bad. He’s just starting to make a name for himself and he wouldn’t do anything to screw that up. I’m telling you, he’s just poking at Peter. If Peter was smart, he’d just ignore him.”
I sighed and gave Dos one last scratch behind the ears. “I hope you’re right.” He arched under my petting, then took off after a squirrel that darted across the gravel driveway and sped around the corner of the barn.
“Trust me, Benni.”
I gave her a crooked smile. “Why do those words always evoke fear and trepidation in my heart?”
“Girlfriend, you are getting as cynical as that husband of yours. See you tomorrow?”
I opened the truck door. “I’m not sure. My days are pretty full this week. But you’ll be at the final committee meeting Wednesday night at Angelo’s, won’t you? Remember, I’m paying for the pizza.”
“With my best boots on.” She grabbed my arm before I climbed into the truck’s cab. “Benni?”
I turned and looked at her in question.
“I know this is asking a lot.” Her nostrils flared slightly, and she took a deep breath. “If you find out anything, could you let me know? I mean, this looks real bad for me and Roy, and I’m not asking you to break any laws, but you talk to so many people, and if you hear anything, could you . . . you know, just clue me in? As a friend?”
Feeling emotionally torn, I struggled for an honest answer. “I’ll try,” I finally said. “But Gabe’s not telling me much. He’s trying to keep me out of it.”
She looked up at me with pale green eyes as translucent as opals. “I know. I guess I was just trying to find out if this was going to affect our friendship.”
“Not if I can help it,” I said, and meant it.
“Thanks. I have a feeling I’m going to need all the friends I can get.” She let out a low whistle, and Uno and Tres appeared from behind the house. “Where’s your pesky brother at?” she asked them.
I watched her in my rearview mirror as she walked back to the barn, the two perky-eared dogs bouncing around her feet. It occurred to me that I never asked her if any detectives had questioned her and Roy. They must have, recalling her remark about being each other’s alibis. That was almost as good as no alibi when both of them had very good reasons to want Nora dead.
Stop it, I told myself. She’s your friend, and the least you can do is believe she’s innocent until it’s proven otherwise. One thing I knew for sure, if they were guilty, I sure didn’t want to be the one to discover it.
It was almost four o’clock when I reached the museum. There was less activity going on, though a few people still milled about with hammers and saws. D-Daddy’s old Toyota station wagon was gone, so I safely assumed that he’d completed all the things on my work list for today. He wouldn’t have left otherwise. In the studios, a couple of quilters had a double-sized story quilt spread out on a wide worktable and were discussing it in low tones.
“What’s