The Second Mouse - Archer Mayor [88]
Spinney felt an instant warmth for both of them, like a thirsty man might who’d finally reached water. “It is. Strictly routine—something we do with all unattended deaths. Do you mind talking about it?”
Mrs. Heller broke into a broad smile. “Goodness, no. George and I live to gossip. We love to watch the comings and goings around here—gives us something to do in our old age. But before we go on, wouldn’t you rather come in and have some tea or something?”
Lester accepted, and they all trooped into the eccentric house, eventually settling in a nicely appointed living room-kitchen combination with a huge picture window overlooking the road.
“This is where George and I do most of our busybody business,” his hostess explained as she went to work preparing the tea.
Her husband and Lester chose deep armchairs facing the view. In fact, Lester did feel a little as if he’d just bought a skybox seat at a ballpark. The house sat up high over the road, and the vegetation had been trimmed to afford the best advantage over quite a piece of real estate. The peaks of several houses could be seen nestled among the treetops.
“This is beautiful,” Lester murmured.
“We like it,” George stated. “We could have set it up to take in just the woods and fields, but we like people. We’re from the city originally, and we’ve always enjoyed watching our fellow human beings.”
His wife chimed in, “We used to walk in the park every weekend, trying to come up with little life stories for everyone who caught our eye.”
“And sometimes,” he added, “when we could get away with it, we’d even ask them about themselves, to see how much we got right. We ended up being pretty good.” He paused before admitting, “Of course, around here it’s a little harder. We only get to see cars go by—sometimes strollers walking their dogs or something. And people are a little more reserved here, too.”
“Oh, yes,” she agreed. “They think we’re very strange.”
Lester was taking this all in while he surveyed the room, inventorying the usual assortment of family pictures and decorative artifacts. At some point, quite clearly, someone in this family had done a lot more than simply look out the window. The whole house spoke of serious income.
“So,” he began, feeling that the niceties had been given enough free play, “what can you tell me about Michelle Fisher? Did you know her well?”
“Didn’t know her at all,” George said flatly.
“We never got to meet her or her boyfriend,” his wife agreed, still hard at work at the butcher block island separating the kitchen from the room’s observation platform. “We just watched their comings and goings—got a feeling for their life. They seemed very happy together. We always noticed that.”
“That’s true,” George concurred. “And you could tell that Archie especially had been around a bit, which made us all the happier that he’d found her. It’s hard to believe they’re both gone . . .”
“How do you know so much about them?” Spinney asked.
“Oh,” she admitted, finally bringing over a tray laden with tea things, “you ask around; you eavesdrop a little. Once the postman even dropped off some of their mail here by mistake. That’s how we found out his name—Archie Morgan.”
Lester was fascinated by how guileless they both were about their snooping. “Did you notice if they had a lot of visitors?” he asked.
“There was Linda,” Mrs. Heller said immediately. “She was a regular. Very nice woman. She’s from the city, too. We met her a couple of times, out walking. She was a good friend of theirs.”
“Anyone else?” Lester persisted.
The couple exchanged searching looks. George finally shrugged and handed Lester his tea. “I guess not. Like I said, people tend to keep to themselves—part of the point of living here. We’re not so different, when you get down to it. We love being nosy, but we hardly get out of the house, we’re such hermits.”
“That’s true,” his wife said happily. “This is our cave.”
Lester reached into his inner pocket and pulled