Free Weave of Absence by Carol Ann Martin

this. When Matthew tries to talk some sense into you, will you please take his advice? One of these days, Della, you’re going to find yourself in real trouble.”
    â€œDon’t worry, Mom. I have no intention of getting involved in a murder case.”
    The long sigh at the other end of the line told me she didn’t believe a word I’d just said. Truth be told, she had a right to her skepticism—not that I was actually planning anything, at least not until I had a suspect. All at once, it occurred to me that I did have a suspect. Bruce Doherty and Helen had argued at the party. Of course, I was stretching a bit here, but seeing as he was engaged to Marnie, wasn’t it my duty as a friend to look into the background of this man? All for Marnie’s sake, of course. The best part was that I could keep my hands clean, if I could convince Matthew to investigate the man. Hmm. That idea might be worthexploring. With his police connections, it would be easy as pie for him. Before teaching criminology, Matthew used to work with the FBI. When he moved here, it didn’t take long for the local police department to hear about his experience and start asking for his help on some of the more complex cases.
    â€œDella? You still there?” My mother’s voice brought me back.
    â€œSorry, my mind was wandering. Oh, will you look at the time?” I said. “Matthew will be here any minute and I’m far from ready.” Another fib. Why did I always find myself lying to my mother? I was a bad, bad daughter.
    â€œI hope you’re wearing a dress. Men like to see women in dresses.”
    â€œYes, I am.”
    â€œAnd I hope you’re wearing makeup. Sometimes you don’t wear enough eye makeup.”
    â€œI do my makeup very nicely; thank you.”
    â€œAnd make sure to do some listening for a change. Don’t hog the conversation all night. Let him put in a word now and then.”
    â€œI’m hanging up now, Mom. Love you. Bye.” I dropped my phone into my bag, just as the buzzer rang. Winston galloped past me, coming to a screeching halt at the door.
    â€œIt’s me.” Matthew’s voice came through the receiver. A moment later, he appeared, carrying two bags of takeout sporting the mountain-range logo of the Longview. He looked drop-deadgorgeous in a plaid shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans.
    â€œDinner for two,” he said, handing me the bags. “Southern fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy as a main course, and pecan pie for dessert.” He gazed down at me.
    â€œSounds yummy,” I said, tearing my eyes away from his before I lost myself in them. “After all those calories, I’ll just have to starve myself for the rest of the week.”
    â€œYou’re in perfect shape. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”
    He thought I was perfect? I felt a blush rising and turned away. “Would you like red or white?” I asked, leading the way to the kitchen and handing him the bottle opener.
    â€œWhite,” he said.
    I opened the fridge, pointing to the bottle inside. “Help yourself.” I plated the food and carried the dishes to the dining room. And then I lit the single candle I’d set in the center of the table and dimmed the lights.
    â€œWow. Aren’t we being fancy?”
    All at once I felt foolish. A second later, when the candle went out. I turned the light back on.
    â€œThat’s much better. Now we can see what we’re eating,” I said. For a moment I thought he looked disappointed—projection, no doubt.
    He cleared his throat. “Helen Dubois, the dead woman—she was a good friend of Marnie’s, wasn’t she?”
    â€œShe was. Marnie put up a good front. She insisted on staying at work all day. But I could tell she was upset. Even the news about your friend agreeing that her flag is worth a fortune barely cheered her up.”
    â€œThat’s