Free Murder on a Girls' Night Out by Anne George Page B

ring startled both of us. “Unless I miss my bet,” I said, “that will be my sister, who probably suspects, God forbid, that my blood pressure is normal today.” I was right.
    “What are you doing?” she asked after I said hello.
    “Making applesauce.”
    “Why? You can get Motts now with extra cinnamon or Lucky Leaf. They’re both good as homemade.”
    I didn’t argue. I just let my mind drift for the millionth time to the idea that one of us really was adopted. Probably Mary Alice. After all, I had my mother’s short upper lip and blond hair.
    “Mouse?”
    “What?”
    “You nearly scared me to death about that phone call last night.”
    Mary Alice definitely was the adopted one.
    “There was a very reasonable explanation,” she said.
    “What was it?”
    “Probably one of the babies. Children nowadays know a lot more about electronic stuff than we do.” I didn’t point out that the babies were fifteen months old. Sister would just get started on what geniuses they are. “Anyway,” she continued, “I know you didn’t mean to upset me, so I forgive you.”
    “Gee, thanks.”
    “And I need you to go to the Skoot ’n’ Boot with me this afternoon.”
    “What for?”
    “I’m going to meet with a contractor. To have some minor remodeling done.”
    “You’re having the wishing well taken out.”
    “That and a few other things.”
    “You checked with Sheriff Reuse?”
    “Not yet, but I will before we actually change anything.”
    “So you’re definitely opening back up.”
    “Of course. What happened to Ed had nothing to do with me. I’m not going to be mixed up with the Mafia or doing drug trafficking or whatever he was involved in. All I’m going to do is have a nice, fun place for people to dance and have a good time.”
    “Shall I tell Henry his job is safe, then?”
    “Sure. When you see him.”
    I glanced over at the table, where Henry was peeling an apple and seemed lost in thought. “He’s here. Peeling apples.”
    “Well, tell him I’m glad he’s not in jail. I’ll pick youup around two. And, Mouse? Bring me some of the applesauce.”
    “What about Motts?” I yelled into the dial tone. Whatever had happened to saying good-bye before you hung up? I slammed the receiver down. “That was Mary Alice,” I said to Henry, needlessly, as I sat down. He was grinning. “She’s going to open the Skoot ’n’ Boot back up.”
    “That’s good.”
    “You really think so?” For a moment I saw Ed’s tattoo dancing, saw his body being lifted into the ambulance. “You think it’s safe?”
    “Most probably.”
    It was not the answer I wanted to hear, and Henry knew it. We both reached for an apple at the same time.

Seven
    I n October, political advertisements bloom on all the signboards and at the interstate exits. If there is a space, there is a sign. They will stay there long after the elections, in fact until storms batter them down. Candidates are supposed to take them down the day after the election, but I have yet to see that happen. Half the candidates are too happy to bother; the others are too depressed.
    On our way to the Skoot ’n’ Boot, Mary Alice asked who I was voting for and then said, “Never mind. I know.”
    She was referring to the fact that I usually vote a straight Democratic ticket. She votes straight Republican. Always has, so she says. I happen to know she voted for Kennedy, though, and she knows I didn’t vote for McGovern. He sounded exactly like Liberace whenyou listened to him on the radio. Not that I had anything against Liberace, but I couldn’t take him seriously as President. I’m sure Mr. McGovern was a very nice man and I felt terrible about it, but there it was. Abraham Lincoln wouldn’t be elected today and we all know it. Or at least he would have to have that mole taken off. I’ve always worried about it being a melanoma, anyway.
    “What factor sunscreen do you use?” I asked Sister.
    “Thirty.” She looked over at me.