Free Defending the Dead (Relatively Dead Mysteries Book 3) by Sheila Connolly Page A

moment if she was violating Leslie’s primary instruction: don’t do anything dangerous. What were the odds that there was something poisonous in this heap of trash? Hadn’t people used arsenic and the like for rat poison back in the day? And goodness knows there was plenty of broken glass with sharp edges. But watching Ellie, Abby realized that the girl was surprisingly careful and methodical. Each piece she extracted she looked at carefully, dusted it off, and then put it with matching pieces on the lawn. Good thing they had plenty of lawn to work with.
    By the time they’d taken the heap down to the level of the lawn, they were both running out of steam. Abby stood up, stretched, and surveyed the field of shards. “So, Ellie, what’ve we got?” she asked.
    Ellie got up, brushed off her pants, and came over to stand by Abby. “Mostly china, but lots of patterns. Six, maybe? Bottles—plenty of those.”
    Abby laughed. “It looks like somebody really liked patent medicine.”
    Ellie looked up at her. “Were they sick?”
    “Not exactly. Patent medicine had a lot of alcohol in it. It was okay to buy tonics and use a lot of them, but not to buy liquor, especially if you were a woman. So this was a way around it.”
    “Huh,” Ellie said. “I don’t like liquor—it tastes strong.”
    “That’s okay. You don’t have to drink it. What else is there?”
    “Other glass stuff—some is pretty thin.”
    “Lamp globes for oil lamps, I’m guessing. Have you seen any of those?”
    “Maybe. I guess they break pretty easy. Then there are the things there’s only one of, like an old umbrella, and a wooden toothbrush. And what’re those big china things that look like cups?”
    “Chamberpots,” Abby said promptly.
    “What’s that?”
    “Well, there was probably only one bathroom in the house when it was built, and it was pretty cold, so if you had to go in the middle of the night, you could use a chamberpot. You kept it under the bed, and that maid we talked about would empty them all in the morning and clean them out.”
    “Ewww! Like potty seats for grown-ups?”
    “Kind of. Anything else?”
    “There’s a pile of shoes—looks like leather lasts pretty well even when it’s buried. And then there are some pretty things, like decorations.”
    “I think you’ve about covered it. There’s more of the china than anything else, right? What does that tell you?”
    “Well, it might mean that maid was real clumsy and dropped things a lot. But . . .”
    “But what, Ellie?”
    “There’s an awful lot of the china. I think somebody broke it on purpose.”
    “Why do you say that?” Abby asked carefully.
    “Because he was mad.”
    “It was a he?”
    Ellie nodded. “Yeah. He was mad and he wanted to break things.”
    “Can you see him?” Abby said softly.
    “No, but I feel his mad. I don’t like him. Can we go in now?”
    “Sure. You’d better get washed up—I have to take you home soon.”
    “Okay.” Ellie gave one last long look at the items spread out across the grass, then turned and headed for the back door. Inside, Abby supervised scrubbing the worst of the dirt off, but it didn’t make much of a difference. Leslie would have laundry to do. But Abby was pleased that Ellie was a normal kid who wasn’t worried about getting dirty—Abby had always hated the prissy little girls who wanted to stay clean.
    After another snack and a drink, Abby shepherded Ellie out to her car and headed toward Littleton. Leslie’s car was in the driveway but she hadn’t gone inside yet, so she waited while Ellie and Abby climbed out of the car. And did a double-take when she looked them over.
    “What on earth were you doing?”
    “We were playing archeologist at the house.”
    “We dug up Abby’s dump, Mom,” Ellie said enthusiastically. “There was all sorts of stuff there, like old bottles and china, and even an umbrella. It was cool!”
    “Well, I’m glad you had fun, sweetie, but I think you might