Free Pride v. Prejudice by Joan Hess Page B

whisk?”
    â€œIn one of those drawers,” I said. “Would you ask Sheriff Dorfer if I can meet with him this afternoon?” I told him about Zachery Barnard’s purported sighting of a suspicious van parked in the area, and his failure to add any pertinent details. “I’ve been wondering if Miss Poppoy might be able to better describe the men now that she’s recovered from the shock.”
    He brandished the whisk. “I’ll call and see if he’s in his office, but it’s a holiday weekend and it’s likely that a rookie has been left in charge. Do we have any chives?”
    *   *   *
    As I drove out County 107, I began to regret having indulged in the omelet, the sausage, and an hour of genteel marital shenanigans. This was not the time for complacency; it was the time for assertiveness and hunger for the truth.
    I turned at Sarah’s road and stopped in front of the house. The pickup truck was gone. Although I’d intended to ask her to accompany me when I questioned Miss Poppoy, I had no time to waste. I was backing up when I realized I hadn’t heard from Juniper Lund. Sarah’s trial would begin in less than seventy-two hours. I decided to cast etiquette to the breeze and drop by unannounced.
    Emily Post would have been appalled.
    There were no occupants in view as I parked beside their house, but I could hear the shrill babble of cartoon voices from within. I knocked on the door and waited, willing myself to be steely.
    The door opened. I recognized William Lund from the photo Sarah had shown me. “Good morning,” he said. “Can I help you?”
    â€œI’m Claire Malloy. I spoke to your wife yesterday.”
    â€œAbout Sarah’s trouble,” he said with a nod. “When I asked if I could help you, I was thinking about giving directions or looking under the hood of your car. I don’t see how I can say or do anything that’s going to help Sarah. We feel bad for her. She was miserable being married to Tuck. He had good spells, when we’d go fishing or watch football. We’d all sit around and drink wine, talking about life, politics, and always blueberries. Tuck spent hours at the library researching hybrids, fertilizers, and organic pest control. He knew more than the accreditation inspectors from the IOIA. He used to confuse them with all the chemistry lingo.”
    â€œWhen he had bad spells?”
    William looked over his shoulder. “Let’s go out on the porch. Billy doesn’t need to hear this. He’s got a wild imagination, and keen ears. Junie’d throw a fit if she knew I let him watch all those gory cartoons. We can’t protect him from everything. There’s a vampire on Sesame Street, for chrissake.” He gestured for me to sit in one of the wicker chairs. “I grew up on Gilligan’s Island and Rin Tin Tin . On Saturday mornings I watched Lassie .” He cupped his hand behind his ear. “What’s that, boy? Timmy’s fallen down the well and is being eaten alive by zombies?”
    â€œZombies!” Billy howled as he barged out the door, the cap gun in his grubby hand. “Where are they, Gramps? I’m gonna blow their heads off!”
    â€œI think they all went out behind the barn to help Grandma pick vegetables for dinner. You need to go protect her.”
    Billy pointed the gun at me. “What do you want, lady?”
    Candor would not endear me to his grandfather. “Aren’t you missing your show?” I asked sweetly.
    â€œNow it’s just a bunch of stupid commercials, and I don’t care if the zombies want to pick stupid vegetables.” He glared at me. “Nobody makes me eat vegetables. I hate vegetables, ’specially carrots. Carrots are nothing but rotten teeth that fall out of werewolves’ mouths. You know what cabbages are? They’re scaly dragon balls. My cousin told me, and he’s older than