Eine Kleine Murder (6 page)

Chapter 9

Repercussion: In a fugue, the regular reentrance of a subject and answer after the episode immediately following the exposition (Eng.)

The Harmons were exactly the right people to have with me at the funeral home. They had attended the Alpha Lutheran Church with Gram and knew what hymns to pick for her service. They also suggested donations be made to a summer camp for underprivileged kids where Gram used to teach swimming. Grace and Al helped me write the obituary notice, and—the most painful for me—guided me toward a casket that looked decent, but didn't cost half the town budget of Alpha.

The funeral director told us the coroner hadn't looked at “the deceased” yet, so we set the funeral up for the next week, which would give him plenty of time to do whatever it was he needed to do. The director suggested having the service at Gram's Lutheran church instead of the funeral home. I thought she would want that.

They also accompanied me to the lawyer's office and waited outside while I conferred with him. He informed me Gram's will left almost everything to me. “Everything” consisted of the cabin and cash in a bank account back in Moline.

“That's all the money she has?” I was astounded at how little it was.

“Your grandmother was a generous woman. She had income from her late husband's retirement, and from Social Security, but she kept only what she needed.”

“Where did the rest go?” It occurred to me I might sound greedy, but I was curious, more than anything else.

“She helped out whatever cause or person happened to come to her attention. Are you in a difficult financial situation?”

“Oh no, not at all.”

“Good.” He settled back in his leather chair. “I consider it a compliment to you that Ida didn't think you would need her money.”

That gave me a warm feeling, too. It was a vote of confidence from beyond the grave. Not that Gram had a grave yet. It surprised me, given my initial reaction to Gram's purchase, that I liked the thought of owning the cabin. The lawyer concluded by saying he was obligated to contact my cousins, as they had been bequeathed a small amount of money.

On top of everything the Harmons had done for me so far, Grace asked me over for dinner while we were driving back. It was hard to hold back my tears of gratitude. “I don't want to impose any more.”

Al waved his long fingers. “Don't be absurd. Our kids and grandkids left just before you came and it's suddenly too quiet over there.”

“Besides,” Grace gave me a wink. “Al's looking forward to telling his stories to someone who hasn't heard them yet. Just come around to the back.”

I found myself looking forward to it, too. And I needed to ask someone what was going on with Rachel and Rebecca.

As soon as I was inside the cabin my cell phone rang.

“Well?” It was Neek. “What about the lunch?”

“I didn't have to dial you, did I? At least not from the lunch. The lunch was weird, but that's not all that happened.”

I told her about going to the bowling alley for hamburgers and about Mo's rude ducking, trying to make light of my terror. My stupid problem of inhaling water was embarrassing and Neek hadn't known anything about it. In retrospect, I had probably overreacted to being pulled underwater. It wasn't like I hadn't been dunked before. I didn't mention Daryl being there for lunch. I don't know why.

“Cressa, you're going to have to start picking men some other way. Your track record isn't good.”

“Well, it wasn't a date or anything.” But I knew what she meant. My boyfriend history was bleak. After being on exactly three dates in high school, I guess I hadn't known how to handle myself in college. My first serious guy there, a fellow music student, dropped me just as I was falling for him. I thought my heart would break like a shattered violin. He was my first love and I thought it would last forever. I lost all sense of direction. After that, I dated two druggies, one philanderer, and a couple of guys who wouldn't let me go. Len, right after Gramps died, was the latest of those.

“So what are you doing tonight?” Neek asked.

“The neighbors invited me to dinner.” I just realized I was starving; I'd left most of my hamburger on the plate at lunch. “They drove me to the funeral home and the lawyer's office. I'm so glad they're here. They're much better company than Mo's family.”

“What's wrong with them?”

“Mo's father is an abuser if I ever saw one. I don't know about actually beating on his wife, but she
is
scared to death of him.”

“Poor thing.”

I related the details of the will to her and we talked about the irony of my ending up owning the cabin.

“I'm still not sure Len isn't around here somewhere.” I told her about finding evidence of a Peeping Tom.

“He's not there now,” she said. “He might have been a couple days ago, but I caught him trying to sneak another note under your door this morning. He gave me a dirty look and left when he saw me. How long are you going to stay there?”

That was good news about Len. Maybe he hadn't been here at all.

“At least until Gram's funeral. We've set it up for next week, five days from now. I want to give my cousins a chance to get here. That's as far ahead as I can think. Do you think you can come down?”

“I'll be there for the funeral, you bet. Glad your lunch date was okay. No danger, right? I knew you'd be fine—remember that penny?”

I had to laugh. “Yes, I suppose your prediction was good today. For a change.”

“What do you mean, a change? Is that a pun?”

“No. Well, maybe.” I laughed again.

“You know I'm always right. It's just that sometimes you have to reinterpret events a little.”

“Or a lot. Love you, Neek. Talk to you later.”

After my dud lunch with Mo, I was ready for dinner with the Harmons. I warmed toward them for offering me their easy friendship. As I walked around the corner of their cabin to the back, cheery light spilled into the night through the screen door. After knowing me only a few days, their embracing welcome was as warm as their small kitchen.

The meal was ready to dish up, so we started in as soon as I arrived. Grace served the catfish Al had caught that morning. Grace knew exactly how to bread and fry them: a little light cornmeal, a sprinkle of oregano and thyme from her herb garden, she told me, then quickly sear in the flavor. We also had delicious sunfish in an onion and garlic sauce, plus corn on the cob, dripping with butter.

“I'm grateful you were Gram's friends,” I told them both as our flatware clanked merrily on pretty china plates.

“Well, gracious, she was
our
friend, too,” said Grace.

“She never really wrote about anyone except you two. Do you know who lives next door to me?” I recalled the two children, one with a bruised cheek, slipping through the door. “Do two little girls live there?”

Al gave me a blank look. “Little girls? No, they don't live next door to you. They live in the next house.” That was the one with the blue shutters that Mr. Toombs had come out of.

“Eve lives next door to you,” said Grace. “She's at least our age, no little girls.”

“And she's
not
good with children,” Al broke in. His voice lowered and his face reddened. Grace turned to me and changed the subject.

“You'll have to see my herb bed another day,” offered Grace. “I'd show it to you tonight, but it's too dark. You'll have to come back and see it in daylight.”

Al glowered and lowered his head.

“Maybe tomorrow.” The tension between them puzzled me. It was the mention of Eve that set him off. I wondered why.

Grace nodded, smiling. “I hope you'll be able to enjoy at least some of your time here. We love it. And our grandkids do, too. We have twin boys, one in Wisconsin and one in Minnesota, but they always send our grandsons to visit in August.”

“I wonder,” said Al, “if any of them will ever want our cabin, since they didn't grow up around here. If Grace and I should ever leave …”

“Leave? Are you moving?” He sounded sad. Was he going to get upset again?

“There's a chance. If my condition—”

“Al,” interrupted Grace. “Remember?” She gave him a cautionary look over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses.

He nodded and returned to his meal. That condition was taking a beating. The storm had passed again, gone as quickly as it flared up. I didn't dare mention the little girls again.

Chapter 10

Crescendo: Swelling, increasing in loudness (Ital.)

Fat, lazy June bugs, drawn by the yellow light washing into the yard, crashed against the screen door in their silly spring ritual. I hated to ruin the mood, but I had to ask some more questions about Gram's death, so I swallowed my last bite of catfish and dived in.

“You were my grandmother's swimming buddy, weren't you, Grace?”

“Usually. We'd been in together the night before she drowned.”

“Are there any undercurrents in the water?”

“No, just underground springs. They keep the lake from freezing completely in the winter. The springs aren't very warm, not warm enough for me. I can't swim in the winter.” She shivered thinking about it. “But Ida would swim sometimes when it was too cold for me. She was so stubborn about things. I used to call her pig-headed to her face. She had the idea swimming in cold water is good for you.” I knew about that. “Really, she could swim in anything. She was such a strong swimmer, but, well, we all get older.” Grace shook her head. “I sure wish I'd been home …”

She set her empty ear of corn on her plate and wiped the butter and salt off her hands. “I feel so guilty about her death. Not being there. Maybe if I had been …” Grace snatched her glasses off and swiped at a tear. “She must have tired out.”

“I have to say, though,” put in her husband, “I was shocked to hear Ida drowned. I never would have thought that she …”

I wouldn't have, either
, I wanted to scream.

“What a character your grandmother was.” Al sipped his iced tea, then rose and paced while he talked. “Right after she moved in, her water line started leaking and her water had to be shut off for a couple of days before someone could get out to fix it.”

“Oh, yes,” said Grace, watching her husband walk back and forth in the small kitchen. “I remember that. We offered our shower to her, and the sink to wash dishes. She could even have slept on the couch if she wanted.” She threw a glance at Al, who still paced. “But she insisted on staying in her cabin. She hauled water in a bucket from the campground shower across the road. Bucket after bucket. She was tough.”

“Yes, she was,” I said, feeling anew the raw void she had left. A dark space. Would it ever fill with light? “I wonder what happened to her telephone? It doesn't seem to be working.”

“That's strange. I'll look at it tomorrow,” said Al. “You live in Chicago, right?” He scraped his chair back to lower his long body and resume his seat, and his sweet corn.

“Near Fullerton and Racine.” I had to have one more ear and busied myself buttering and salting it.

“That's quite a ways from here,” he said. “Do you think you'll keep the cabin?”

“Gram left it to me. At the moment I think I'll keep it. It's lovely here and would be a good place to do my work.”

“What kind of work?” asked Grace. “I thought you were in school.”

“Yes, I'm teaching piano and working on my master's degree at DePaul University. I write music, too. In fact, I'm composing a piece for my degree. This would be a good place to finish it.”

“Al is a retired English professor,” said Grace. “He used to teach at DePaul several years ago.”

“Quite a few years ago,” he added. “It was one of my first teaching jobs.”

We chatted about the changes at DePaul for awhile and I learned the Harmons were both avid readers and made weekly trips to the library in Moline. He had become hooked on fishing since his retirement, and she had recently taken up studying wildflowers and herbs, and was doing experimental cooking with them.

As I ate another ear of sweet corn, the Harmons talked of local happenings for a bit. The way they picked up on each other's conversation, Grace and Al went together like a violin and bow. I caught a phrase Al used, “before the lake.”

I licked some salty butter off a finger. “Hasn't it always been here?”

Grace told me it was man-made. “This lake is a strange phenomenon in this flat cornfield country, isn't it?”

“I sure remember the stories about when they made it,” Al said.

“And the controversy,” added Grace. She leaned forward over the table. “There was a regular feud between the factions. It lasted for years.”

“Toombs's father,” Al said, “was totally against it. Now Toombs makes his living off it. The idiot.” Al's face mottled at the thought of Toombs. His sudden, hot anger alarmed me.

“Yes, there was bad blood between his whole family and the Greys.”

“It was built,” said Al, “when they made the highway that goes through the middle of Alpha. That small two-lane road doesn't look like much, with all the interstates and cloverleaves they build today, but it was a nice road when it was first made. The stream was dammed up to provide water for mixing concrete. That's what created the lake.”

“Ah, so the half-moon shape is because of the shape of the valley, then?” I asked. He'd calmed down again talking about the lake. I'd keep in mind that was a safe subject.

“Yes,” said Grace. “The water backed up around the bend and made a crescent. Beavers used to dam this valley up before that. I remember my grandmother telling of skating in the winter on the beaver pond when she was a girl.”

I pictured a young woman who looked like Grace, gliding on the pond, then pictured two very different little girls, the ones I had met today. Rachel and Rebecca, going into Eve's place.

“Al.” I didn't want to set him off again, so tried to phrase my question carefully. “I'm curious about my neighbors. What did you say about Eve, the one next door to me? About her not being too good with children?”

“Did I say that? Not too good? That's an understatement. She's disastrous with children.”

“Al, you shouldn't say that,” scolded Grace. “It was her husband.” She turned to me. “Their children were both killed by poisoning.”

“Poisoning?” I exclaimed. “How awful!” A shiver gripped me in spite of the warm room.

“It was horrible. Mr. Evans was convicted and sent to prison for murder. Some people think Eve may have done it. But her husband is serving the sentence. I'm pretty sure he did it, not her.”

My heart thumped, pumping cold blood through my veins.
What a horrific thing to happen.
I closed my eyes and tried to picture losing two children... and at the hands of their father. The poor woman.

“I don't think a responsible parent would let their kids associate with her,” Al said. His face was flushing again.

“Oh, she's all right, Al,” his wife disagreed. “Eve is just a different sort of person. She's always nice to me.”

It looked like I'd have to make my own mind up about my next-door neighbor.