Free A Truth for a Truth by Emilie Richards

cleaned my counters, and sliced bread for my breakfast.
    Hildy’s husband had just died, and she was taking care of me .
    “You didn’t have to do this,” I said, glancing out the window at heavy rain. I hoped that meant the aerobics were on hold. “I just had a rough night, and I was catching some extra sleep. I guess Ed drove the girls to school.”
    “When we lived here, people were always dropping by, at all hours. I used to tell Win it was Grand Central Station, but I never minded. It was part of my job.”
    I knew better than to correct her. Hildy felt a calling to this life. She had embraced it with enthusiasm, even, for the most part, excelled. My own take was different. I tried to view myself as another member of our congregation. I was even putting together a book on Tri-C’s history, using a scrapbook I’d done a few years ago for the Women’s Society and material from our archives to celebrate the church’s 150th anniversary. But the moment I began to feel obligated, to rise early in case I might be needed by some commuting congregant, to micromanage every social event and reception, to view my marriage as a “job,” I planned to resign from the church and take long walks on Sunday mornings. Ed needed a wife. The church could live without one.
    “We don’t have a lot of droppers by,” I said. “I hope you’re making some toast for yourself, too.”
    “I’m too upset to eat.”
    I examined her more thoroughly. Hildy did look frazzled. Her hair wasn’t as neatly pinned as usual. Her white blouse was rumpled, as if she’d pulled it out of the laundry hamper this morning. And she wasn’t bustling pleasantly. She was bustling like somebody who was afraid to stop.
    Of course why wouldn’t she be upset? Yesterday her husband’s body had been spirited away to the morgue instead of our local cemetery. Win Dorchester had not received the dignified burial he’d deserved.
    “I’m so sorry about yesterday,” I started. “I hate that I was the one who—”
    She waved me to silence. “What choice did you have? I just didn’t understand. I didn’t know! I thought . . .” She shrugged. “I don’t know what I thought. If I’d thought, I’d have known you would never cause a problem in church, if you didn’t have to. You would know how badly it might reflect on Ed.”
    I didn’t wince, but that took a great deal of self-control. “I was more worried about you than Ed, Hildy. I knew my announcement would be a shock.”
    “The police called this morning. They want me to come down to the station. They were asking so many questions. Whether Win and I were happy together. Who might have wanted him dead. Why I didn’t call an ambulance sooner.”
    That last part was new to me. “I just assumed you called the ambulance right away.”
    “I called them the moment I found him! But I didn’t follow him outside, so that took a while. Who follows somebody outside while they’re emptying the garbage? Do they think I checked up on everything he did?”
    Her voice was rising, and I tried to soothe her. “I’m sure they’re just making certain everything’s okay, Hildy. If this is a mur—” I changed course. “A suspicious death, they’ll be asking lots of other people questions. See if they don’t.”
    “They want a full accounting of any problems in my marriage! They want to know if I killed Win. That’s what they want to know.”
    “Did they ask you that?”
    “Not in so many words. I think they’ll wait until I get to the station.”
    “Hildy, if they really were suspicious of you, they would have sent an officer to get you.”
    “They offered.”
    I was sorry to hear that, but it might mean nothing. The authorities knew Hildy’s husband had just died—who would know better? Quite possibly they figured she wasn’t up to driving herself. Cops are always thoughtful, right?
    “Um, I know more about this kind of thing than I should,” I said. “I can tell you it’s way too early to