Free Dead By Midnight by Carolyn Hart Page A

with Elaine, who was crisp, kind, clever, and insightful. But much more important to Annie was the fact that the softly green tabby house was the home of Glen and Cleo Jamison.
    Annie turned toward the cottage. Elaine’s car was not in the drive. Annie walked back into the woods, thinking hard. She returned on the path to Pat Merridew’s backyard. As soon as she reached her car, she retrieved her purse from the trunk and lifted out her cell phone. She called the police station, recognized the voice of the dispatcher—Billy’s wife, Mavis. “Mavis, this is Annie Darling. May I speak to Billy?”
    In a moment, Billy answered.
    Annie plunged into her recital, stopping only when Billy interrupted. Finally, she concluded, “ . . . and I think Pat went late at night to the Jamison house.”
    Billy was sharp. “Wait a minute. You don’t have any basis for that conclusion.”
    Annie was fervent. “Why else would she go on that path?”
    “There’s no proof she turned left. Maybe she went toward the lagoon.”
    “Pat told Mrs. Croft she couldn’t sleep after she lost her job. She was furious with Glen Jamison. I think she went on that path to the Jamison house.”
    “Why?” Billy sounded bewildered. “What possible reason would she have to go there late at night after everyone was asleep?”
    “Because she was upset.” It seemed eminently reasonable to Annie.
    Billy drew a deep breath. “There’s no point to it.”
    She had a quick memory of a Cat Truth poster: a small Brown Tabby, clearly a female, stalked a mesmerized rabbit while a Golden Shaded Persian male lolled back against a cushion, one leg raised for grooming. She takes care of business . Maybe if the rabbit kicked him . . .
    Annie wasn’t sure she could breach the divide between Venus and Mars. “Women take things personally.”
    “You got that right.” Billy’s agreement was fervent and obviously the product of experience.
    Encouraged, she continued. “Pat was upset. I think she wanted to go and look at the house and think how much she hated them. Like sticking pins in a voodoo doll. Anyway, she went somewhere on that path late at night and not just once but several times. She wouldn’t go to the child care or the vet’s. They’re closed in the middle of the night. The lagoon was a dead end. The only other place is the Jamison house. I don’t believe in coincidence, and since it was the Jamison house, that had to be why she went.” Annie realized her reasoning sounded a trifle inchoate, but she was sure of her conclusion. “I mean, think about it.” Was she starting to sound like an eighties Valley Girl?
    Billy was patient. “I see what you’re getting at. Let’s say you’re right.” He sounded dubious. “Let’s say Pat Merridew went sneaking up that path to go think evil thoughts about the Jamisons. Annie, she’s the one who’s dead, not Glen or Cleo Jamison.”
    “That’s the point. Pat’s dead. She went up that path and she saw or heard something at the Jamison house that led her to try blackmail.”
    “Come on, Annie.” He was clearly incredulous. “That’s a leap too far.”
    Annie strove to be calm and reasonable. “Mrs. Croft didn’t see anyone visit Pat’s house Friday night. But someone came and washed up that crystal mug and didn’t leave any fingerprints. Where did the murderer come from? Why not the path from the Jamison house? If the murderer came from the Jamison house, that proves Pat’s death is linked to the Jamisons.”
    “A leap way, way, way too far.” His tone was cautionary. “If we’re going to create scenarios out of nothing, including the idea of murder, how about some enemy knew Mrs. Croft watched the neighborhood, so this person parked at either the vet’s or the child care and took the path. Or maybe Mrs. Croft went in her house Friday night for a few minutes and that’s when the visitor came. Or maybe Mrs. Croft and Pat were crossways and that’s who came to visit. But, we have no