A Murder of Crows (27 page)

“I know what you did,” I told her.

Her eyes narrowed. “Really. Who told you?”

“No one,” I assured her. “I figured it out myself. Can I come in?”

She stepped aside and Rick’s voice carried into the house from his back porch.

“All right, Bob. Get out here and tell me what I missed today in Morris.”

“You have no idea,” I muttered to myself.

I motioned for Gina to precede me through the house out to where Rick was sitting on an outdoor lounger, his ankle wrapped in a blue cloth brace and propped up on the foot of the lounger. Four hamburgers sizzled on his gas grill, and laid out on the small patio table were an assortment of condiments, hamburger buns, a bowl of potato salad, and a pan of homemade brownies.

“Let me guess,” I greeted him, eyeing the picnic spread. “Instead of sucking it up and dragging your bum leg along with me for the six-hour round trip drive to Stevens, you spent the day being miserable, but pampered, by …” I shot an accusatory stare at Gina, “Savage High’s very own Family and Consumer Science instructor.”

“Absolutely not,” Rick insisted. “Believe me, I was not miserable for even a second. And I did help stir the brownies, I’ll have you know.”

Gina offered me a cold can of beer from the cooler on the porch, but I turned it down.

“I’m not going to be here that long,” I told her. “Luce is waiting for me.”

“So tell me what you found,” Rick said, taking a drink from his own beer can.

Gina perched on the edge of the lounger near Rick’s foot.

“Wait a minute,” I said, the word “perch” triggering another realization in my head. I looked at Gina. “You’re the one who told Boo that Rick and I were going to Morris. He said a little bird had told him, and I’d assumed it was Rick, since they were such good buddies.”

Gina looked at Rick, then back at me.

“Rick told me about the birding trip when he asked me to go dancing. Was I not supposed to tell anyone?” Gina asked, confusion in her voice. “Boo said he was thinking of going home to see his dad, and I mentioned that I knew that Rick and you were planning to go up there birding.”

“No,” I replied. “It wasn’t any big secret or anything. I just realized it was one more wrong assumption I made in the last few days.”

“Like the one that Boo and I were such good buddies?” Rick asked.

He turned to Gina.

“Boo’s a great guy, really,” he said. “I’m just not that comfortable around him, now. You know—since we’ve started seeing each other.”

“But we’ve been over this, Rick,” Gina gently reminded him. “I’m not in love with him. I was a high school senior when he asked me to marry him, and I said ‘no.’ Noah is the only other person who knows about it. Boo’s just overprotective of me, that’s all. We practically grew up together.”

Whoa. News to me, that was for sure.

When Boo had admitted his feelings for Gina on the way to Spinit, he’d neglected to include that little detail. No wonder he tackled Noah as soon as he saw him. Not only did Boo hate liars, but he thought Noah had killed Sonny and lied to the woman he loved about it.

Thanks to me, that is.

What was that—wrong assumption #24 of the week? Something like that, I was sure.

But it also reminded me of the real reason I’d stopped at Rick’s place. I needed to ask Gina a rather personal question.

“Speaking of being overprotective,” I eased into the conversation, “I met your brother Noah today, Gina.”

Fine lines of tension formed around her mouth, and I saw the pupils in her eyes dilate.

She shifted slightly on the lounger, and I noticed her fingers curling into fists in her lap.

Ah, yes. Good old body language. Where would a counselor be without it?

Especially when you wanted the truth … for a change.

“He kind of reminded me of me,” I continued. “I think we have the same opinions of our big sisters.”

“How so?” Rick asked. “I’ve known Lily almost as long as I’ve known you, Bob, and she adores you. She may not always show it,” he added, “but underneath all that bossiness and your bruised shins, all she wants is for you to be happy.”

He turned to Gina.

“Do you kick your brother’s shins?” he asked her.

“She wants her brother to be happy,” I answered for her. “So much so, that sometimes Noah feels a little stifled by her protectiveness.” I looked at Gina. “He’s a big boy, Gina. You need to give him some space. That’s really why he went back to Spinit, isn’t it?”

Gina’s smile was tight. “He’s my only sibling. My mom died when we were kids. I’ve always felt that Noah was my responsibility, and I needed to be there for him.”

I remembered Sara Schiller’s complaint about Gina’s class unit on nurturing families and responsibility.

“But did you feel his happiness was so much your responsibility that you would leave the job you loved just to get him relocated to another town for better job opportunities?”

I could see the awareness growing in Gina’s eyes as she figured out where I was going with this.

I wanted the truth about her time in Henderson.

About her time with Sonny, and what happened afterwards.

“What are you driving at, Bob?” Rick asked, suspicion mounting in his own voice. “Gina didn’t have a choice if she wanted to help Noah. Henderson is tiny. They had to move where he could find work.”

“They had to move,” I informed him, “because Gina couldn’t face teaching about the importance of family relationships in a small town where she’d been involved with a married man—albeit unknowingly—and whose wife then tried to kill herself when she found out about it.”

Rick’s mouth opened and closed.

Twice.

He hadn’t known, just as I hadn’t. It had taken me all week to remember the comment that Rick’s policeman friend had made about being concerned about Prudence hurting herself.

Prudence was suicidal. Red had known it, too—that was why she was so concerned for Prudence on Sunday morning.

“I felt so awful,” Gina said softly. “I felt bad enough, believe me, when I found out that Sonny was married, but when I heard about his wife …”

She covered her face with her hands and took some deep breaths. After a moment, she put her hands back in her lap and looked at me.

“I couldn’t teach there anymore. I needed a fresh start, so I moved us here, which really was better for Noah, employment-wise.” She turned to Rick. “Noah and Boo were the only ones I ever told about the guilt I felt—and still feel—for Mrs. Delite’s attempt at suicide. I didn’t think you needed to know about it, yet,” she confessed.

Rick reached over and covered one of her hands with his own. “I’m so sorry, Gina.”

He looked up at me, a touch of anger beginning to color his cheeks. “And the reason you’re bringing this up?” he asked.

“Because now we know who killed Sonny,” I said. “Nobody. He made a fatal mistake. Sonny took—and drank—the wrong cup of tea.”

Rick gave me a blank look, but Gina gasped, her hand covering her lips in bleak certainty.

“She did it again,” she whispered. “She tried to kill herself. With poisoned tea.”

I nodded. “She found out that Sonny was having another affair. My guess is that she’d planned her suicide for the last day of the Arboretum’s conference, so that Sonny wouldn’t have to miss any of it because of her.”

Gina’s eyes went wide. “She didn’t want to inconvenience the man who’d cheated on her?”

I shrugged. “I could give you a library of literature to read on the psychology of addiction, unhealthy dependence behaviors, and suicide, but let’s just say she has some very serious issues, and leave it at that.”

“But how did he get the hemlock?”

I looked at Rick, who had pulled out his cell phone.

“You going to call the detective in charge?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “He needs to hear this. So how did Sonny get the tea?” he asked again.

“This is all guesswork, Stud, don’t forget,” I cautioned him, fully aware that I’d already made one wrong accusation today.

Make that “painfully” aware. The ache in my arm where I’d landed in Boo’s front yard was spreading into my shoulder.

“So guess away,” Rick instructed me.

“I think Prudence had the hemlock with her to do the deed as she had planned, and was making their usual morning tea one last time in their hotel room. Sonny said he had to go early to fit in some birding, and he took the wrong cup with him.”

“He was hoping to meet Gina,” Rick surmised. “He was hoping she got the phone message and would show up at Duck Lake Pond.”

I shrugged again. “Whatever the reason, Sonny left the hotel with his wife’s poisoned tea. It’s just a five-minute drive to the Arb from where they were staying, so the poison wouldn’t kick in until after he’d parked and started walking.”

Rick tapped in a number and talked with someone on the other end of the connection.

Gina looked pale.

“It’s not your fault, Gina,” I said. “It was a series of terrible mistakes, all made by Sonny.”

She took another deep breath. “If you’re right, why hasn’t Prudence Delite come forward and confessed to the police? It’s the right thing to do, Bob.”

“Of course it is,” I agreed. “But like I said, Prudence has issues. I’m not sure she can function on her own, to be honest with you. When I saw her earlier today at Millie’s Deli, it was like she’s attached herself to Red, as if she was incapable of making any decisions for herself. My guess is that she hasn’t told Red yet, because she’s waiting for her memory lapses to clear before she can ask her what to do. Or maybe Prudence did tell Red about it when they were finally alone on Sunday, going down the stairs at Millie’s, and it caught Red so much by surprise, she tripped and fell down the stairs. Who knows?”

The smell of cooked burgers grew suddenly stronger, and I pointed to the grill on the porch. “You two better eat before all that’s left is charcoal.”

Gina got up and moved the burgers to a platter on the table, while Rick finished his call and returned his phone to his pocket.

“They’re going to bring Prudence Delite in for some serious conversation,” he reported. He stuck his hand out and smiled. “Thanks, buddy. This should go a long way to getting me off the suspect list. I owe you one.”

I shook his hand and nodded.

“Take care of the ankle,” I told him. “Are you going to be out of that brace in time for the big Halloween party?”

“I hope so,” he said. “I owe Gina some dancing.”

“You could be Fred Astaire,” I suggested. I looked at Gina, who had returned to her perch near Rick.

“And you could be Ginger Rogers,” I winked at her. “I bet you know all about fancy footwork, don’t you … Crusher?”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I stuck the unlit pipe back into my mouth and sat back on the leather sectional that stretched across Alan and Lily’s living room. From the kitchen, I could hear laughter and the voices of several faculty members as they helped themselves to the Halloween party buffet set out on the kitchen island. Beside me, Luce held Baby Lou, dressed in an Incredibles sleeper, on her lap, alternately raising and lowering her own costume’s English bowler hat over her eyes, playing peek-a-boo with our niece.

“Ah, you’re teaching her to solve mysteries already, my dear Watson,” I told my wife in my worst English accent. I gave Baby Lou’s tummy a nudge with my pipe. Her little eyes went wide with surprise.

“Sherlock!” Rick said, calling to me from the front door, where he and Gina had just arrived.

“Old chap!” I called back, waving my pipe in the air.

I whistled as they approached. Rick’s slicked-back hair and black tux made a perfect contrast with Gina’s—or should I say Ginger’s?—ball gown of ruffled layers of yellow chiffon as they practically glided over to us.

“You two could have stepped right out of
Top Hat
,” Luce said. “I love the dress, Gina. It’s gorgeous.”

Gina laughed. “I feel like a fire hazard with all this material floating around me. I hope there’s no fondue on the buffet—I might spontaneously combust if I get too close to a flame. I assume Alan and Lily have a fire extinguisher in their kitchen.”

Rick dropped a light kiss on Gina’s temple. “She’s already made me replace my smoke alarm batteries,” he told us. “I’m beginning to think she has a future as a fire marshal.”

“Just being safety-conscious,” she pointed out and smiled at Baby Lou.

“She does teach our child development class,” I reminded Rick, “and she’s doing a fantastic job of it, by the way. Even Sara Schiller said so this week.”

“She is really coming around, Bob,” Gina said, looping her hand through Rick’s elbow. “She didn’t miss a single class this week, and she told me all about the war memorabilia show she attended with Mr. and Mrs. Metternick last Saturday. I’m beginning to think she just needed a strong mentor in her life to turn her behavior around.”

I was rapidly coming to the same conclusion about my favorite truant, or, as of this week at least, my favorite former truant. In the ten days since she’d met Vern Metternick and learned to shoot off a bazooka, Sara had cleaned up both her class-skipping and bad attitude act. She still wasn’t crazy about her art class, but at least she was showing up for it.

“Speaking of behavior,” Rick said, “it looks like Prudence Delight is cooperating fully with the police, now. She’s got a lawyer and a mental health counselor working with her. I think they’ll work out some kind of plea bargain for her since it really was an accident.”

“I heard on the news that the police finally located a witness at a gas station where Sonny stopped for gas before heading to the Arboretum that morning,” Luce said, bouncing Baby Lou on her lap.

Rick nodded, straightening the white carnation in his tux’s lapel. “It was the cashier at the gas station,” he reported. “While he was ringing up Sonny’s gas purchase, he saw Sonny take a sip from a paper cup with a hotel logo on it. The reason he remembered was because he saw Sonny make a face like he’d just burned his mouth on whatever it was he was drinking.”

I reached over and took Baby Lou from Luce, tucking her warm weight against my chest. I looked at the capital letter “I” emblazoned on her little sleeper. Alan had done well in choosing his daughter’s first Halloween costume: she really was incredible.