I confess that my heart sank because of this petty issue. Though none of this was my fault, my neighbors were not going to be happy about this disruption on our placid street. I couldn’t imagine how the Herman sisters were reacting. I knew the Cohens would be livid.
But that’s not important in the grand scheme of things, I told myself sternly. When I thought of the woman sprawled on the grass, her skull broken, her life taken away, some inconvenience and a few wakeful hours seemed like nothing.
Phillip returned from the kitchen with a greasy pizza-related snack. He made another trip to get a glass of milk for himself and some apple juice for me.
I was too queasy to watch him eat. It was like watching a boa consume a goat. In seconds the little pizza snacks were gone, and so was the milk. He returned the dishes to the kitchen and came back to his spot at my feet. In less than three minutes, Phillip was asleep with his head tilted back on the couch.
I looked at him fondly. Phillip was already a man, albeit a very young one. Life had battered him, and he had come out of his ordeals stronger and kinder. Though there was over twenty years’ difference in our ages, I loved my brother a lot.
Watching him sleep made my own eyelids heavy. Just when I was about to succumb, there was a quiet knock at the door.
“Come in,” I called in a low voice.
Detective Trumble was middle-aged and graying, sturdily built, and no-nonsense. None of this silly TV stuff of wearing high heels and low-cut tops on the job. I doubted Cathy even owned a pair of high heels. I’d talked to her before, several times, and I’d liked her. Though the circumstances were bad today, I had to notice that Cathy looked rough. There were pouches under her eyes, and she walked like her back hurt. Trailing behind her was a familiar lanky African American with a close-cut buzz. He was wearing a suit, and he looked good in it.
“Wow!” I said. “You got promoted?” I’d gone to high school with Levon Suit. My brain tried to make a joke about a Suit wearing a suit, but finally it just gave up.
He gave me a weary smile. “Yep,” he said. “Last week. And look at me now. Murder investigation.”
Levon and Cathy sat down on the opposite couch, relief crossing Cathy’s face as she sat back. She must have had a very long day.
“If you all want a drink, there’s some Coke in the refrigerator, or I could make some coffee.” That was my best offer.
Cathy shook her head, though Levon looked as though he would have liked to take me up on it.
“I hear you have the flu and a missing babysitter. And you don’t recognize the dead woman?”
“Yes to all of that.” I’d been working the narrative out in chronological order while I lay on the couch: Robin’s trip, my flu, the arrival of Virginia, what had happened today. Well, yesterday. I had the order of events in my head, though it was constructed from an unreliable memory since I’d been (still was) ill.
Then I heard Sophie stirring through the monitor. She was making little noises. “Cathy, I have to go feed the baby,” I said. “You can come with me if you need to ask some questions. Levon, I think Phillip is waking up, if you want to ask him what he heard and saw.” I’d noticed my brother’s eyes flicker.
Phillip sat up straight and shot me a reproachful look.
Every bone in my body ached. Only the fact that the baby was awake got me off the couch.
In Sophie’s room, with the curtains drawn tightly, the turtle night-light gave a warm glow, just enough to show Sophie’s red hair as a muted halo. The shadowy room was peaceful and snug, and I was happier here. I could hear the rain beginning to patter against the window. Even if a detective was with us, even if a woman had died in my yard, I was in a little cocoon with my daughter, who didn’t know death or evil.
When she was dry and powdered, I gestured to the stool that came with the rocking chair, and Cathy sat down on it gratefully. I took the chair, arranged my robe and nightgown, and Sophie latched on.
Cathy was kind (and smart) enough to keep her voice low. “Tell me what happened. Why and when you and Phillip left the house. Every detail.”
I told her about waking up to a Virginia-less house, our fruitless search, the doors we’d used, the path we’d followed, exactly what we had done.
“You have no idea where this Virginia Mitchell has gone?” Cathy asked, for the second or third time.
“If I did, I’d sure tell you,” I said, more than a little exasperated. “Mother had gotten good references for Virginia. She hired Virginia to help me when I first came home from the hospital after I had Sophie. When I was back on my feet, I told her good-bye and gave her a thank-you check. My mother actually hired her and paid her salary.”
“And you called her back again because…?”
I sighed. We’d come full circle. “Because Robin had to leave for Bouchercon, and I could tell I was getting sick.” Just now, I felt I was going to keel over any second.
“Any visitors tonight?”
“No. Wait, yes. Sarah Washington, Phillip’s girlfriend.”
“I remember Sarah.”
I nodded.
“Did you get the feeling Sarah already knew Virginia?” Cathy said.
“I never saw them together. I was flat on my back in bed and barely conscious. You can ask Phillip.”
“When is Robin coming back?”
“Early this afternoon, thank God,” I said, realizing it was now well into Sunday. “I have to warn him to expect chaos.”
“And where was he? Explain again?”
“At Bouchercon,” I said, for what seemed the hundredth time. I was hanging on to my temper by a thread. I spelled it for her. “It’s the world mystery convention. You know Robin’s a writer. He won an Anthony last night.”
“So he was in front of a lot of people.”
“Yes. A lot.” No way could he have anything to do with this, I said silently.
Sophie had been looking around in her googly way. She had tried waving her hands and occasionally kicking. My arms were about to fall off, so I was relieved to notice she was beginning to tire. I was ready to lay her in the crib. Holding her, a warm bundle, was a real comfort to me—but I had been reminded again of how weak I was.
“I’m going to put Sophie down,” I told Trumble. I rose very carefully, feeling weak in the knees. I had to step around Virginia’s folding bed to lay the baby down.
The baby looked up at her slowly turning mobile. Rabbits dressed in charming clothes rotated above Sophie’s head while the music played—“Peter Cottontail.” It seemed terrible to stand in this room and think about murder.
“My nephew’s nursery had a mobile,” Cathy said quietly. “It was flying cats. I thought it was the cutest thing ever made.”
“I didn’t know you were an aunt,” I said. “How old is he? Is this your sister’s son?” Cathy had a younger sister, Carmen, who’d been ill recently. I couldn’t recall any details, so I was leery of asking how she was. Maybe she had passed. I was embarrassed not to know.
“Duncan’s seventeen now. Phillip probably knows him.”
I thought she’d follow up with some other detail, but she didn’t. Instead, she looked away, seeing something besides this snug room. Clearly, Duncan was trouble.