Killer Confections8 Delectable Mysteries(537)

“What do you mean?” I have to hand it to Susannah. She attracts interesting bits of news like black wool attracts lint.

“Well, for one thing, there’s that fight she had with her husband this morning. I think it’s Garrett, not diarrhea, that kept her home. Although, how can you tell the difference?”

“Susannah?”

“Well, you know what I mean.” She poured coffee from the percolator into a small serving pot. “Anyway, after I recovered from shock on the stairs, I noticed there were some pine needles caught in her hair.” Susannah paused and waited for me to say something.

Eventually I obliged. “So?”

“So! Mags, the only pine trees we’ve got on the farm are back in the woods. It’s all maples up by the house, and there aren’t any trees by the barn. So don’t you think the woods is a wee bit far to go if you’ve got the runs?”

“You’ve got a point,” I said excitedly. “And if Lydia was in the woods, she might have seen someone, or at least could verify that shots had been fired.”

Susannah put a little pot of homemade boysenberry jam and a salt and pepper set on the tray. “Except that she came back from her walk several hours after you claimed you were shot at.”

“Not claimed—was!”

“All right, was. My point is that she couldn’t have heard the shots or seen anyone, because she wasn’t even in the woods then.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Say, you’re not the only one with news. Guess who I saw in town?”

“Your old boyfriend, Sam?” Susannah pointed to the bags of produce that I still had not bothered to put away. After all, there was no hurry. How limp can Sam’s bok choy get?

“That’s not who I mean. I saw”—I paused for dramatic effect—“Melvin Stoltzfus!”

“Our new acting Police Chief.”

“You knew?”

“It was in the paper, Mags. You really ought to get more in touch with the world.”

“That’s not fair! I read.”

“Yeah, books. But not important stuff. Isn’t Melvin cute?”

“Cute? You think Melvin Stoltzfus is cute?”

‘You’re always too hard on people, Magdalena. You’re far too picky. Even Mama used to say so. Melvin’s got the most adorable eyes. You know—bedroom eyes they call them.”

“I wouldn’t think there’d be room for his eyes in my bed,” I said, perhaps cruelly.

“There you go! Running people down. That’s why there’s never been anybody in your bed, Magdalena. And probably never will be.”

“That’s not true at all. I don’t sleep with men because I’m not married. It’s as simple as that. And even if I were to throw my morals to the wind and be a slut, like some people I know, I wouldn’t go to bed with someone who has to use his fingers to count to ten.”

Susannah slammed some silverware down on the tray. “Melvin never got kicked by any damned cow. That story was just made up by Sarah Berkey because he jilted her.”

“Bull.”

“What?”

“Never mind, just take the tray up to Lydia.” It’s a hard lesson for me to learn, but if I bite my tongue hard enough, and think of Mama turning over in her grave, I can sometimes extricate myself from our arguments before it’s too late.

“I’m gone!” shouted Susannah. Then, too studied to be an afterthought, she turned with the tray and gave me what I suppose she thought was a coy wink. “I almost forgot to tell you, Mags, but you had a phone call.”

“I did not switch the prices on Sam’s salad dressings,” I said, perhaps a bit too defensively.

“Not Sam. This was from a man, a Jim something. Big Jim, I think it was. Anyway, he wouldn’t leave a message, except that he’d call back sometime. And he called you doll!”

Susannah laughed like a blithering idiot and ran upstairs with the tray containing hot coffee. How is it that she managed to negotiate those impossibly steep stairs at high speed and not even spill a drop of java, whereas poor little Miss Brown ended up like a sack of potatoes at their foot? A sack of mashed potatoes.

I decided not to dwell on that morbid subject any longer, nor did I particularly want to think about Jumbo Jim’s call. My brief conversation with him had been far too much fun. If it involves a man, and is fun, it has got to be wrong, or so Mama always told me. When your mind starts to get too busy, or filled with unwelcome thoughts, the only way to clear it is to roll up your sleeves and get your hands dirty. Dirty hands, you can always wash. A dirty mind, however, is a first-class ticket to hell.