“Yeah? That nutcase tortured me for the best part of Sunday. So what?”
“Well, have you checked out her story?”
“There were no high-heeled footprints in the mud around Jimmy’s barn, if that’s what you’re getting at. Oh, wait. You think she whacked him to death with her diamond ring?” He laughed until he started coughing.
I wanted to smash the phone against the counter. “And another thing. Apparently the Perkinses are very angry about a sale that Angus handled for their grandmother’s estate about a year ago. Jimmy was the one that recommended Angus for the job. Perhaps you should consider looking into their whereabouts on the morning of the murder?”
“You think those boys killed someone else to get revenge on Backstead?” I could hear Ramsbottom eating. Perhaps a foot-long meatball hoagie with an extra large side of fries.
At the thought of French fries, my stomach grumbled.
“I don’t know. Sounds like you’re clutching at straws, Mrs. Daly.”
“Buchanan.” Even as I corrected him, I sighed. My theories sounded pretty weak to me, too, once I voiced them out loud.
Ramsbottom said he had to go, and hung up abruptly. I slammed the phone down and went in search of sustenance.
The store had a real kitchen, seeing as it was once a home, so there was no excuse not to eat healthy food. I pulled a container of Joe’s homemade split pea and ham soup from the freezer and put it in the microwave, but I only had a chance to eat a few bites before the phone started ringing. One call was from an interior designer looking for vintage curtain panels for a child’s room. I had several in stock, plus some antique toys to accessorize the shelving. I promised to meet her after work on Thursday evening because she couldn’t come during store hours.
As soon as I had a moment to breathe, Cyril Mackey’s words came back to me. Was there another way of looking at this whole thing? Even though the Perkins theory sounded weak, maybe he had a point.
One thing was for sure. I’d need to keep my mind, ears, and eyes open to every possibility.
I remembered one of the first jobs I had as a teacher. There was one little boy who simply could not sit still, and it was nearly impossible to get him engaged in the lessons. Until the day I sat the kids in a circle on the floor instead of at their desks. I told them the story of Paul Revere, and he was transfixed. I’ll never know whether it was the change of location or the delivery, but either way I had him, and knew that was my “teaching moment.” It also taught me to think outside the box and not be afraid to approach a problem from a new direction.
Sarah finally drifted in during the early afternoon.
“How’s the puppy doing?” I asked.
“He’s okay. I let him run around in the backyard for a while before I came over.”
I made a mental note to check around the yard when I got home. I had visions of going out into the grass in my bare feet one morning and finding that she hadn’t bothered to clean up after the dog.
I took a deep breath. “You know we love having you here, Sarah, but don’t you have to go back to work sometime? When’s the next film?”
Sarah shrugged and clicked through some messages on her cell phone. “No idea.”
The condo in New York was in a full-service, door-attendant building. Even though she’d bought it from us for way below what we could have sold it for on the open market, it was still a decent-sized payment for a single woman. I knew she made good money on films, but it wasn’t consistent income, and she’d just spent a fortune on remodeling and new furniture.
I swallowed and tried again. “I worry about you making your mortgage, that’s all.”
“Something will come along soon,” she said, not looking up from the phone. “Don’t worry so much, Mom.”
I gritted my teeth. If one more person told me that I worried too much today, I’d have a stroke.
I’d seen the kids whose parents didn’t pay attention, who didn’t worry, and who didn’t come to parent-teacher meetings. Those were the parents who left teenagers home alone when they went to their beach house on Long Island, and were surprised when the police came calling on Monday night.
Joe and Sarah were definitely peas in a pod with their laid-back attitudes to life. It was all very well to be so loosey-goosey, but it was because of my drive that we’d bought the condo, and had been able to afford her college education. Now we had this store that provided a nice income for Joe and me.
Although Joe would probably be content to live in a tent at the bottom of the yard.
I shook my head, even as I smiled. He’d still be a great cook, even on a propane camping stove.