Free 18 Deader Homes and Gardens by Joan Hess Page B

his breath, but it didn’t seem polite to point it out. “I have some errands to run, Moses.” I put the key in the ignition in case he missed the hint. “Enjoy the sunshine.”
    “Did she tell you about Winston?” he asked with a snigger. “How we went to a party at his house and got snockered on fine whiskey? Well, l’ll bet she didn’t tell you half of what happened later.”
    “What’s the other half?”
    “That’s between me and the Colonel. Look at him up there, waiting for the Yankees to come thundering through the valley.” Moses stood up and stuck out his arm. “Into the Hollow Valley rode the six hundred! Cannon to the left of them! Cannon to the right of them! Volley’d and thunder’d! Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do or die!” His ferocity startled a flock of cowbirds into abandoning their roost for a more peaceful perch elsewhere. A squirrel on the bench raised its bushy tail but hung on to its acorn.
    Nattie came around the corner of the Old Tavern. “Moses, whatever is wrong with you? You’re scaring Claire, who has better things to do than listen to you mangle poetry. How about a nice glass of milk and a slice of bread?”
    “With honey?” he called back, his arm still beckoning the Light Brigade.
    “With honey,” she replied.
    Moses lowered his arm and bent down to whisper, “She’s not the only one who knows what happened to Winston. Other people have eyes, too. Don’t let her fool you.”
    “I won’t,” I whispered in response. I started the car and drove carefully past him, not wanting to add crushed toes to his list of ailments. When I continued to the main road, I was relieved that Pandora Butterfly had taken her ballet troupe elsewhere.
    *   *   *
     
    Caron was still in her pajamas when I arrived home. She looked up from her bowl of cereal long enough to mumble, “Some guy called.”
    “Terry Kennedy? Is he already here?”
    “No, Danny something. He wants you to call him.” She briskly transitioned from spoon to cell phone and started texting.
    I sat down before my knees buckled. “What did he say?”
    “He said for you to call him, Mother. Are you developing ADD? That’s attention deficit disorder, in case you’ve forgotten. Inez’s parents decided that her little brother had it because he kept staring into space and walking off in the middle of conversations. They took him to a therapist and everything. It turned out that he was building a bomb in his room. What a hoot!”
    I was impressed that she had not broken her texting rhythm during her remarks. “What happened to the bomb?”
    She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “How should I know? He didn’t blow up the house or his school or anything. Oh, and I wrote down the guy’s number on the cereal box. He sounded anxious.”
    I took the box of pastel marshmallow rice puffs and the phone out to the balcony. The number proved to be that of Danny Delmond Enterprises Inc. The receptionist questioned me as to my identity and objective and then put me on hold. I waited impatiently until a male voice said, “Mrs. Malloy, I need information from you. Angela failed to show up to a deposition this morning, and I understand that you’re involved in her pathetic charade as the innocent victim. Where is she?” His voice was brusque and accusatory, as if I’d stashed Angela under my bed. As if anyone could fit under it now that half of Peter’s and my wardrobe was residing between the storage boxes of shoes, blankets, and sweaters.
    “I have no idea where she is,” I said, already disliking him.
    “Don’t give me that crap, Mrs. Malloy. My attorney can get a court order compelling you to produce her under penalty of contempt of court.”
    “Tell him to have at it. My husband can have your car towed to the police compound to be searched for bloodstains.” I despise bullies, and from what Angela had said about him, he was the worst kind. “It would be a shame if it got scratched,