Murder by Yew (An Edna Davies Mystery #1)(29)

Edna tried to look cheerful as she hurried to the door and opened it before the bell rang, but her smile froze when she saw only two women on the stoop. Tall and slender with long hair the color of corn silk, Liz Franken usually chauffeured at least two students when the class was held somewhere other than her own studio. Today, only Carol Lancell, not one of Liz’s usual passengers but a long-time friend, accompanied her. Standing slightly behind and a little to Liz’s right, Carol was short and tanned with a mass of close-cropped dark curls beneath a floppy, yellow foul-weather hat.

“Where is everyone else?” Edna asked the question to which she feared she knew the answer.

Obviously uncomfortable, Liz looked down at the easel and paint box she was carrying. “Nobody else could make it.” She added faintly, “Weather, I guess.”

“Bitsy the bitch. Pardon my French,” Carol mumbled, pushing past Liz and Edna. She apparently had been getting wet, standing behind Liz in the drizzling rain.

Edna knew who Carol meant. Bitsy Babcock poked her nose into everything. If she were a dog, she’d be a Border Collie, herding people and nipping at their heels until they obeyed her every command.

After Liz followed Carol into the front hall, giving Edna a feeble smile as she passed, Edna closed the door and turned to face them, not wanting to hear but afraid not to. Carol stared at Liz expectantly. When Liz refused to meet either woman’s eyes, Carol turned to Edna.

“If Liz won’t tell you, I will,” she said, removing her damp raincoat and throwing an icy glance at her friend. “Apparently, Bitsy was on the phone to everyone this morning. She called me at seven. She knows darn well I never get out of bed before ten on the weekends. She said the police were here yesterday questioning you about Tom Greene, and they think you might have poisoned him. She’s spreading it around that Nancy chased you away from the house last night after you tried to hurt Danny.” Tossing her head, Carol glared at Liz as if to say, “Someone had to tell her.”

The young art instructor looked apologetically at Edna. “It’s true. She called me first and told me—told me, mind you—to cancel the class. When I refused, she said she was going to call the other members and warn them away. I’m so sorry, Edna. I tried to talk sense into her, but you know Bitsy.”

Edna didn’t know the woman well, just by reputation that she was the biggest gossip in town. People listened to Bitsy, and most dared not rebuke her because of her wealth and social position in the community. Rumor had it that her husband worked long hours and weekends only to escape his wife’s tongue.

Liz and Carol, both in their late twenties, were of a younger generation and refused to encourage Bitsy’s chatter. Edna had heard Liz diplomatically change the subject on more than one occasion when Bitsy started spouting off in class. Carol, given half a chance, always challenged the old gossip.

“If you’d rather we didn’t stay …“ Liz began.

“No, no.” Edna, wanting to run upstairs and hide beneath her quilt, spread her arms instead and ushered the two young women into the living room. “Let’s not have Mrs. Babcock spoil our afternoon.”

Eleven

Liz and Carol set up their easels, and class began. When Liz wasn’t giving instruction, the women chattered away about inconsequential things. Carol was excited that her secondhand clothing store, Pleats ‘n’ Pearls, was attracting more customers. Liz entertained them with anecdotes of her two preschool children, and Edna spoke about her plans to spend the rest of the weekend with her daughter in Boston. By unspoken agreement, they avoided any mention of Bitsy or Tom.

At the end of the two-hour session, when Edna saw Liz begin to clean her brushes, she asked, “Would you like tea and something to nibble on?”

“No, thank you.” Carol said with a self-conscious laugh. “I’m on a strict diet. Trying to lose a few pounds before I gain it back twice over at Thanksgiving.”

“I don’t want you to go to any trouble for me either, Edna,” Liz said, sliding her eyes toward the plates, napkins and glasses spread out on the dining room table. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to rush off. The kids are at my mother’s, and I promised her I’d pick them up by three-thirty at the latest.”

Edna’s smile felt strained as she nodded her understanding. This was what she had feared. She had never known Carol to pass up an offering of food or Liz to refuse at least a couple of her toasted herb squares, even if she took them with her. Friends they might be, and they certainly had proved that today, but eating Edna’s homemade cooking was apparently taboo.

“You probably want to get going yourself,” Carol said, closing her paint box and beginning to collapse her wooden easel.

When the women were gone, Edna went to the kitchen and looked at the dishes of tiny sandwich triangles and herb squares she’d prepared so carefully. Close to tears, she grabbed two of the plates and threw the contents into the sink, scooping and stuffing the debris down the garbage disposal as hot tears burned her eyelids. She turned the cold water on full blast and swiped at her tears with the back of a hand before reaching for the switch that would grind the source of her embarrassment and shame into oblivion. Before she could turn on the motor, however, she heard a noise in the driveway and looked up to see Dee’s red convertible pull to a stop before the house.

“Drat!” she said aloud, grabbing a towel and dabbing at her eyes. “Just what I didn’t need.”