Free Requiem Murder [Book 2 of the Katherine Miller Mysteries] by Janet Lane-Walters

life.
    * * * *
    The next day as often happens in September, a steady drizzle fell. As I started dinner preparations, the doorbell rang. Robespierre and I reached the door at the same time. Beth and Robby, clad in identical yellow slickers, stood on the stairs.
    "Hope you don't mind,” Beth said. “I need to talk to someone."
    Her voice was tight and controlled, but her eyes made me think she was about to cry.
    "Glad to see you. Can Robby have some milk and cookies?"
    "Mommy, please, her cookies are sooo good."
    "Two and a small glass of milk. Then you can play with Robespierre."
    After Robby was settled at the table with his snack and
    Robespierre as his companion, Beth followed me to the living room. I switched the radio to my favorite classical station so the music would blur our conversation.
    "I guess you've heard."
    "I hear a lot of things. Just which bit of gossip do you mean?"
    "About Roger and me."
    "That you're a couple."
    She made a face. “Not any more. Last evening, after he had dinner at the Simpsons, he dropped by. I'm not to wait after choir for him. I'm too possessive. He needs breathing room. When I told him that was fine with me, he accused me of sulking."
    The hurt in her voice troubled me. She and Roger had been a couple since June. “I can't imagine you being possessive. I thought the two of you were just friends."
    "It went a little further than that. Sure I had hopes, but I didn't push. He's the one who calls or just drops by. He's been coming to the house for dinner several nights a week, including Thursdays and then we go to choir and the Pub together. I thought I was being nice."
    "You were."
    And what about Roger, I wondered. What kind of game was he playing?
    "Any problems before this?” I asked.
    She nodded. “After the choir picnic I took Robby home and stayed there. I just couldn't stand people's curiosity or chance another encounter with Judith. He thought Pete stayed. I'm sure Judith will gloat. She brags about seeing him."
    "For voice lessons. She's the alto soloist for the Requiem."
    Her eyes widened. “Why her?"
    "Who knows. It's not that she's incompetent. She'll know her part. Her timing will be perfect, but there won't be an ounce of emotion in her delivery."
    "I don't understand him."
    "He seems to enjoy stirring the pot."
    "What do you mean?"
    "Marcie stopped by. She has a crush on him. He gives her advice on how to handle her mother and he's helping her with a college search. Then he plays up to Judith.” I sighed. “I wish he didn't make such beautiful music. It may not be worth all the trouble he's causing."
    She straightened. “It's not his fault. It's hers. Why does she want him when she's married?"
    My thoughts filled with Judith's drunken ramblings. “Maybe she has him confused with someone else. I've never seen her act like she does with Roger during one of her flirtations. She was always content to tease."
    "She's sick."
    Indeed she was and I'd begun to think alcohol was an attempt to escape inner demons. A poor choice . But I wasn't sure of Roger's innocence either. He was a vain creature who liked to be stroked, in some ways like the cats he feared.
    "I guess you're free again."
    Her face flushed. “Looks that way. Pete asked me out. We're going to dinner Saturday night and taking Robby. It's not a real date."
    "At least he recognizes you're a mom. I think Roger resents Robby."
    "Maybe.” She smiled. “I'll stop by and let you know how things go.” She entered the kitchen. “Robby, put Robespierre down. Time to go home and make dinner."
    After they left I wondered if I should speak to Roger when he came for lunch. Was he manipulating people and enjoying the animosity he stirred? Not that Judith needed any help to make misery for others.
    * * * *
    The leaves on the trees outside my windows had just begun to change colors. From the window seat where Robespierre and I sat, I watched sunlight sparkle on the Hudson River. The clock chimed the half hour. Roger was