Free Eine Kleine Murder by Kaye George

second time, I pounded on Al Harmon’s door in panic. “I found her in the same place I found Gram.” My voice was screechy. He looked past me, not comprehending. His body stilled and I had to shy away from his hollow eyes.
    When I had looked out my front window at Grace’s dark form heading for the swimming area, a large towel draped over her arm, I realized I couldn’t let her go alone. I could hear her flip-flops’ twup , twup as she went. Her step was springy for someone her age. A beam of moonlight glinted off her bifocals. I knew I really should join her; she was as vulnerable as Gram. So I stuck my cell phone in the charger and started to gather my things. My bathing suit from last night was still wet, but I dug my spare out of my suitcase, grabbed a beach towel from the armoire, ignored the envelope with my name on it again, and put on my beach shoes. I lifted my locket over my head and threw it onto the couch next to the door.
    When I had reached the beach, Grace was nowhere in sight, so I’d headed across the lake to find her. Looking back, I suppose, somewhere in the dark part of my mind, I expected to find her body there, on the west side, but it was a shock nonetheless.
    Now I led Al to the couch and gently sat him down, much as he’d done for me after I’d found Gram’s body. But I wasn’t sure I should wrap the afghan around his shoulders, as Grace had done. Thinking it might remind him too sharply of that night, I sat and rubbed his thin hands instead.
    â€œI called nine-one-one already,” I told him.
    I’d run to the nearest phone when I’d found her, immediately after throwing up that wonderful meal Grace had cooked, complete with marshmallows. The mess had floated on the water, then dissipated as I retrieved her lifeless form and dragged it onto the far shore, as I had with Gram. The nearest phone, since mine was on the charger back at my cabin, was at the Toombses’ house.
    Martha had opened the door wide at my frantic pounding. I noticed Mo’s car was there. If he left while we were eating, he must have come back.
    â€œOh, it’s you, Cressa,” she had breathed, and let me into the living room.
    â€œThe mister is out,” Martha confided, confirming my thought at seeing the one big comfortable chair empty. Her perpetual worried expression made her look distraught over the fact that he was gone. I would have been relieved, myself, if I were her.
    There was no sign of Mo in the house, either, thank God.
    As she did at my last visit, she stood in the middle of the room, looking like she couldn’t decide what to do next. I decided for her this time.
    â€œI need to use the phone. It’s an emergency.”
    â€œOh dear.” Her eyebrows tented higher and she clutched her worn hands together. Her pink rollers shook with her head. She took in my bathing suit and beach coat. “What seems to be…?”
    â€œI’ll tell you in a minute.” I used the phone on the corner desk to call it in. The operator made it easy, asking what my emergency was (a dead body), what my location was (Crescent Lake), and telling me to stay put until an official arrived. I said I’d be at the Harmons’ place, then left Martha standing agape at what she’d heard me say, and made my way up the hill to be with Al.
    Now Al stared around the room. The cottage bore Grace’s touch on almost every inch. Her framed needlework adorned the walls, her unfinished knitting sat on an end table, and books on herb gardening and cooking stood in piles on the kitchen counter. Her gardening gloves were flung onto a shelf by the door.
    â€œWhat am I going to do?” he asked me. All I could do was grab his hand again. There was no answer I could give. I brought him a glass of water, but he set it down in front of him, shaking his head back and forth in his own private rhythm of grief.
    â€œIs there anyone I should call? Your