Free Tippy Toe Murder by Leslie Meier Page B

married?” she
asked.
    “More than fifty years,” said Kitty. “I can
hardly believe it myself. Times were hard all those years ago. It was during
the Depression. My folks were sure happy when Morrill started showing an
interest. It meant one less mouth to feed.”
    “They forced you to marry him?”
    “Oh, no. I didn’t mind. I figured taking
care of this nice house would be lots easier than haying and milking on my
folks’ farm.”
    “Kind of like getting a better job?” Lucy
was fascinated.
    “Yup,” said the old woman, breaking into a
broad smile. “Of course,” she said, slapping her knee and cackling, “I don’t
think Morrill has any intention of letting me retire.”
    Lucy joined in Kitty’s laughter. She couldn’t
help admiring her. Kitty was clearly a survivor, and Lucy suspected it was her
sense of humor that got her through.
    The laughter stopped abruptly when Lucy
realized Sara was no longer playing quietly on the rug.
    “Where’s she gotten to?” exclaimed Lucy,
dashing through the swinging door into the dining room, past the long mahogany table,
which still held the remains of Morrill’s solitary breakfast. Lucy cast an
anxious glance up the tall staircase and frantically checked the front and back
parlors.
    She found Sara in the study, lifting a bell
jar off a pair of stuffed bluebirds. The birds were sentimentally nestled
together on a branch of flowering apple. The flowers were made of blown glass,
and the whole arrangement was probably priceless. It looked as if it belonged
in a museum.
    “Sara! Don’t touch!” scolded Lucy,
replacing the glass dome. “You mustn’t go wandering about in other people’s
houses.”
    “No harm done,” said Kitty. “I bet Sara
would like a cookie.”
    Back in the kitchen, she sat Sara at the
scrubbed pine table, gave her an enormous molasses cookie, and poured a glass
of milk for her. “I bake cookies, but I rarely have a young visitor to eat
them,” said Kitty. “These used to be my grandson Ben’s favorites. I only have
one grandchild, but he’s a good one.”
    “You must be proud of him,” said Lucy
politely. “He was very helpful to me the other day. He put a bag of fertilizer
in my car. Finish up, Sara, we have to go.”
    “So soon?” Kitty would have preferred a longer
visit.
    “I’m afraid so,” said Lucy, lifting Sara
out of the chair. “I’ll be stopping at the hardware store this afternoon. Do
you think you could talk to your husband before then about the camera?” “I’m
afraid not, Lucy. I’ve learned it’s better if I don’t interfere.”
    Disappointed, Lucy led Sara to the door. “Well,
thank you for the visit. What do you say, Sara?”
    “Thank you for the cookie,” whispered Sara.
    Lucy was on the doorstep, turning to go,
when she noticed Caroline Hutton’s was the house next door. She spoke without
thinking.
    “You’re Caro’s neighbor! Have you heard
anything?”
    The old woman shook her head. “I can’t
believe Caro would go off without telling me. We had an arrangement. I have her
house key and I always take her mail and water her plants when she goes away.”
    Lucy noticed she had crumpled her apron and
was nervously kneading it in her hands.
    “There’s food in the refrigerator, and a
gas furnace. I don’t know what to do.”
    Lucy understood Kitty’s anxiety. Her own
mother had found the responsibilities of home ownership overwhelming when she
was suddenly widowed. With Lucy’s encouragement she soon decided to move to a
small apartment in a retirement community.
    “Would you like me to go over with you?”
asked Lucy, patting the old woman’s hand.
    “Would you?” Kitty’s eyes lit up. “I’ll get
the key.”
    As she watched Kitty scurry off, Lucy
carefully arranged her features. Kitty didn’t need to know how eager she was to
search for clues in Caro’s house.

10
     
    There will be an
opportunity to photograph each class before the dress rehearsal.
     
    While Lucy waited for