Home>>read No Nest for the Wicket free online

No Nest for the Wicket(10)

By:Donna Andrews


Horace nodded and scurried out. I went over to the card table that held the teapot and the coffee urn, where Mother stood, frowning with disapproval. I assumed she was upset by the decor—not just the lawn chairs and the card table but also the industrial-weight extension cords snaking through the room to power a few battered floor lamps. No doubt she’d rather have had the chief conduct his investigation by candlelight.

“I do hope Mrs. Pruitt and Mrs. Wentworth aren’t too put out,” she said as I poured myself some coffee. “And that other nice lady from the country club—what was her name? Lucy?”

“Lacie,” I said. “Put out by what?”

“At being treated like common suspects,” Mother said.

“You hope they’re not too upset?” I said. “What about me and Rob? And Rose Noire and Mrs. Fenniman—your own family? We’re suspects, too, you know.”

“Well, anyone in the family understands that these little things sometimes happen,” she said, waving dismissively. Yes, especially in our family. “But shouldn’t we be doing something to keep Mrs. Pruitt and her teammates from being badgered and interrogated?”

“Not if they’re guilty,” I said. “If they’re guilty, I want them badgered and interrogated until they confess. If you ask me, they’re at least as likely to be guilty as anyone else here. Especially Mrs. Pruitt.”

“You’re not upset about that?”

“We’re not close,” I said. “I hope she’s not the killer, but if it turns out she is, I think I can cope.”

“What about the country club?”

“I’m sure everyone there would cope, too. They’d have a harder time winning golf and tennis tournaments, though.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Mother said, sounding testy. “I meant, won’t all this make it harder for you and Michael to join the country club?”

“Mother, we don’t want to join the country club,” I said. “It’s expensive and boring. Only the older, stodgier faculty belong. We don’t want to offend them by turning down an invitation—not while Michael’s still working on tenure—so we’re trying not to get invited.”

“Trying not to get invited?” Mother repeated.

“I know it sounds crazy—”

“If Mrs. Pruitt is typical of the membership, it sounds remarkably sensible to me,” she said. “Joining the country club won’t help Michael’s career?”

I shook my head.

“I wish you’d told me that earlier,” she said with a sigh. “The time I wasted being nice to that woman.”

“You can relax,” I said. “You don’t have to be nice to her at all on our account.”

“That doesn’t mean we should be gratuitously rude to her,” Mother said.

“No, but isn’t it a relief to know we don’t have to be gratuitously chummy with her?”

“Dreadful woman,” Mother murmured, and I suddenly felt more cheerful. Mother knew more ways to cause someone trouble without actually being rude than anyone I’d ever met. Mrs. Pruitt didn’t stand a chance.

“I hope Burke knows what he’s doing,” Dad said, shaking his head as he helped himself to the tea. “He hasn’t told us anything.”

“Is that a hint?” I said. Dad’s face brightened, and after Mother left to cajole someone into brewing more coffee, I cheered Dad up by telling him what I knew.

Dad approved of everything I’d done—especially the things I’d glossed over when I told my story to the chief, like scanning the gully for Jane Doe’s purse and matching the croquet mallet to the wound. But I should have known he’d find something I should have done differently. Dad read mysteries by the hundred and fancied himself quite an expert on detection.

“You got some good photos of the body?” he asked.

“Photos? I didn’t have a camera.”

“You had your cell phone,” Dad said. “Doesn’t it take photos?

“I have no idea,” I said.

“You have the same model Rob has,” he said. “His can take pictures.”

“Does Rob actually take pictures with it?” I asked. I was genuinely curious. Only a week before, Rob had sought my help fixing his phone, and it turned out that he’d activated the keyguard during a game of Tetris and couldn’t make calls for three days. Not that I’d tell Dad—Rob still owed me a large, as-yet-unspecified favor in return for not telling anyone else in the family.

“I don’t expect him to,” Dad said. “But I thought you’d have figured it out.”