Free 3 Revenge of the Crafty Corpse by Lois Winston Page B

with to sully my son’s memory.”
    I glared at her. “You might want to dial down the insults a bit, Lucille. It looks like you need all the help you can get right now.”
    “I don’t need your help.”
    “You didn’t have Officer Harley call me?”
    “Why would I do that?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe because the detective here wants to charge you with murder?”
    “He doesn’t have a shred of evidence. My lawyers will make mincemeat out of him.”
    “What lawyers?”
    “The ones my sisters will hire for me.”
    “Are those the same sisters who offered you a place to live after your apartment building burned to the ground?”
    She had no quick retort for that. However, knowing the Daughters of the October Revolution, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn they kept some old geezer of a commie lawyer on retainer. Lucille and her fellow sisters had faced many a judge over the years. At this very moment the other Daughters were probably fumigating the mothball stench from the guy’s fifty-year-old suit.
    Detective Spader turned to Zack. “I’m going to have to ask you to step outside, sir.”
    “You okay with that?” Zack asked me.
    “Sure.”
    As soon as Zack left, I confronted Detective Spader in as non-confrontational a manner as I could muster. “Exactly what happened here, Detective, and why do you think my mother-in-law had a hand in it?”
    He answered my question with one of his own. “Am I correct that you reported Mrs. Wegner’s death, ma’am?”
    I outlined the events of the morning for him. “She appeared to have died in her sleep. She looked quite peaceful, lying on her back, eyes closed, the quilt pulled up to her chin. I even remember a hint of smile on her face.”
    “No signs of a struggle?”
    “Absolutely not. At first I thought she was sleeping. It wasn’t until I felt for a pulse that I realized she was dead. Why do you believe she was murdered?”
    “The funeral director found bruising on her neck. As the law requires, he called in the medical examiner, who ruled her death a homicide and contacted the police.”
    “You think she was strangled?”
    “She was definitely strangled. With the scarf that was tied around her neck.”
    “Not by me,” said Lucille.
    “I remember the scarf,” I said. “The ends were draped on top of her quilt.”
    “You didn’t think it odd that she’d wear a scarf to bed when it’s so hot in this place?”
    “Not really. It wasn’t the kind of scarf you wear for warmth, more as an accessory. Besides, from the little I’d gotten to know her, Lyndella loved to show off. The scarf was one I saw her crocheting yesterday. She probably tried it on when she finished it and forgot to take it off before going to bed.”
    “Or the killer grabbed it and tied it around her neck,” he said.
    “I don’t think the killer is my mother-in-law.”
    “And why is that?”
    “She doesn’t have the strength to cut her own food right now, let alone strangle someone as strong as Lyndella.”
    Detective Spader’s bushy salt and pepper eyebrows rose up toward what was left of his hairline. “The deceased was ninety-eight years old. What makes you think she was strong?”
    “She shook hands like a politician.”
    My explanation elicited a chuckle he tried to cover up with a cough. “Your mother-in-law’s infirmity aside, you’d be surprised at the strength adrenalin can produce under the right circumstances.”
    “Do you have any evidence pointing to Lucille as the killer?”
    “All we have right now is one of the other Sunnyside residents who claims hearing your mother-in-law shouting yesterday morn ing that she was going to strangle Mrs. Wegner if she didn’t shut up.”
    I turned to Lucille. “I told you to lower your voice, didn’t I?”
    Lucille harrumphed. “If you’d taken me home like I demanded, he’d be out searching for the real killer instead of trying to railroad me.”
    “Are you confirming your mother-in-law threatened Mrs. Weg- ner