The Nitrogen Murder(71)

She rang a third time.

“Please, Marne. I have blueberry marble.” She glanced down at the kids, who’d already moved on.

The door opened, and Marne’s smile lit up the night. “Careful what you say, Miss Dana. People around here get mugged for less than a quart of ice cream.”

Dana nearly fell over the doorstep into Marne’s arms. Marne patted her back, as if Dana were the one who’d lost her only child.

“You’re not … mad?” Dana asked when she caught her breath. “I thought you weren’t going to open up.”

“I was in the back, putting Rachel down, but I’m thinking I’ll get her up for the treat.” She took the bag from Dana. “And, oh, I was angry.” Marne led Dana into the house. “Truly angry. But now I believe you’d never do anything like that. I should have known.”

“How—”

“That cop came by,” Marne said. “The one with the Down East accent.”

Dana felt her shoulders relax. At least there were some things she could still count on.



Rachel sat on Dana’s lap and ate her blueberry marble ice cream, careful to keep spills away from her soft purple nightshirt.

“Are we friends again?” the little girl asked. Her deep brown eyes seemed to be pleading for more picnics and trips to the planetarium.

Dana kissed the top of Rachel’s head. She breathed in a sweet lavender scent. Evidently baby shampoo products had branched out from the smells Dana remembered as a child.

“Of course we’re friends,” Dana said, relieved Rachel wasn’t interested in what had caused the nasty interlude at the funeral parlor.

“Tell me the airport story,” Rachel said. She put her bowl and spoon carefully on the table and turned sideways so she could see Dana’s face.

Dana swallowed hard and tried to psych herself up for Rachel’s favorite ambulance tale.

“It was a spooky, rainy night,” Dana began, her voice low and scary

“And what happened?” Rachel asked.

“And a great big plane slipped on the wet runway and banged into a truck and some people were hurt.”

“So they called Mommy.”

“That’s right. And Mommy got in the ambulance and put on the sirens.” Dana made high-pitched noises, and Rachel joined her. “And the lights.” Dana fluttered her fingers in a flashing motion, tickling Rachel. “And Mommy drove that ambulance down the runway as if she were flying a plane.” Another elaborate flying gesture. “Vroooom!”

Rachel clapped and squealed. “And she saved everybody.”

“She did,” Dana said, holding back tears. She dared not look at Marne.

“Knock, knock,” Rachel said, kicking her feet enthusiastically.

“Who’s there?”

“Lemon.”

“Lemon who?”

“Lemon me give you a kiss,” Rachel said, with a wide smile and a giggle that was too close to her mother’s for Dana’s comfort.



Marne’s house was spotless. The kitchen counters were free of clutter, the bright yellow curtains freshly laundered. Every inch of the swirl-patterned beige linoleum looked washed and waxed, unlike the floor covering Dana and her roommates had inherited. Dana knew Marne used to clean other people’s houses until Tanisha had put in enough overtime to afford Marne’s staying home full-time with Rachel. She imagined Marne now putting all her housekeeping skills to daily use in her own home, even though it was a rental.

Once Rachel was put to bed for the second time that evening, Marne’s tears flowed. Dana didn’t know whether to cry with her or to tell more knock-knock jokes.

When Marne got around to talking about the police search, her tone turned harsh.

“Pigs.” Marne spat out the word. “Some of them brothers, too. They come in here and upset Rachel and her friend. Scared them half to death.” Marne poured blood-red Rooibos tea into thick multicolored mugs. Her deep coral lipstick looked fresh, and Dana wondered if she’d applied it just before opening the door. “Flipping over pillows, lookin’ into cereal boxes, liftin’ up the cover on the toilet tank. And finally they find this laundry bag in Tanisha’s closet, full of meds, you know, all kinds of pills. I tell you, they was planted.”

“What made you think I sent the cops?” Dana kept her voice low, hoping soft sounds plus the tea might calm Marne. In the background she could hear a singsong bedtime tune from the tiny boom box Tanisha had bought for Rachel only a few days ago, when her raise came through.

“One of them dumb white cops … I ask him, ‘Why you here?’ ‘A tip,’ he says, ‘from your sweet girl’s partner.’”