Murder by Yew (An Edna Davies Mystery #1)(37)

Edna felt trapped. There seemed nothing to do but invite Dee to join them. Relieving her unexpected guest of the black cape and red umbrella, Edna led the way to the kitchen, deciding to shed her annoyance and make the best of the situation. Dee and Mary sat at the table while Edna reached into the cupboard for her supplementary supply of store-bought tea. Orange pekoe would taste good today, she thought.

Mary turned on the radio so they could all hear news of the storm while Edna fixed lunch. Gale, the appropriately named weather reporter, announced that southern New England could expect heavy rain and gusty winds to last off and on for the next three days. The storm, with winds nearing hurricane force, was coming out of the northeast.

While the women ate a simple lunch of hot tomato-basil bisque with oyster crackers, Edna regaled her visitors with a harrowing tale of her drive from Boston, purposely making it sound more exciting and dangerous than it had been. Since Dee and Mary seemed to have little to say, particularly to each other, Edna entertained them with Starling’s story of the out-of-town brother-in-law, ending with the identification of Bev Lewis in the photographs on her daughter’s wall. “Now, what do you think the odds are of that happening?” she asked as Mary exclaimed and Dee murmured over the coincidence.

Throughout the meal, Edna noticed that Mary kept looking furtively at Dee and thought it might be because Dee looked so lovely with her mass of curly blond hair pulled up and away from her face, falling in a cascade behind her ears. Or was Mary studying the gold filigree necklace that Dee wore with her black turtleneck jersey?

Between Dee rudely ignoring Mary and Mary surreptitiously studying Dee, Edna felt her tension grow as the little impromptu party progressed from soup to cookies. She had almost run out of energy to keep the conversion going when Dee stood abruptly and announced that she must get on with her errands before the storm got any worse. Much to Edna’s relief, Mary also left, claiming she wanted to get Hank back home and check on her emergency supplies in case they lost electricity.

Free of company, Edna spent the next few hours preparing her own house for the worst. She filled the bathtub with water, hunted for candles, and checked the oil levels in her hurricane lamps. Knowing how capricious nor’easters could be, she even braved the growing storm to bring in a few more logs of firewood from behind the garage. The wood had gotten wet, but not soaked, and it would dry out before the supply in the basket beside the hearth could be used up.

Her easel was still standing in the middle of the living room, and she decided to leave it up. One more botanical sketch would complete the illustrations she wanted to use for her speech, and if she had to keep walking around the frame, maybe she would be motivated to finish her project.

Now and then, during her chores around the house, Edna stopped to pick up the phone, hoping to hear a dial tone so she could call Starling or Albert. Her cell phone was in the car, but she didn’t feel like going back out in the rain to get it. She should have thought of it when she’d gone for the firewood, but she hadn’t and didn’t want another soaking just to fetch the thing. Surely, it wouldn’t be long before the phone was back in service. The utility company was very good about repairs. Besides, the wind, sounding like a locomotive about to ram the house, had her nerves on edge, and exhaustion was taking hold of her entire body. Shortly after four that afternoon, the lights blinked, blinked again, then went out completely.

She still wanted to inspect the doors and windows to make certain everything was securely fastened, but now she would need a flashlight, and the only one she could think of was in the lower drawer of her bedside table. After dragging herself up the stairs, she decided to lie down on her bed just for a minute. The last thing she remembered was pulling the cranberry-and-rose colored afghan up to her chin.

Warm breath and a gentle tap on her cheek brought her awake. Benjamin was sitting beside her pillow, a front paw extended to touch her again ever so gently. She glanced at the battery-operated clock beside the bed, amazed to discover it was past seven.

“Oh, Benjamin,” she said, tossing aside the blanket and swinging her feet to the floor. “It’s way past your dinner time, isn’t it? No wonder you came to wake me.” She groped in the drawer beside the bed for her flashlight and swayed unsteadily to her feet, still groggy from sleep.

As she descended the stairs, holding onto the banister and shining the flashlight before her, Benjamin scurried past, then waited impatiently for her to light one of the oil lanterns before spooning food onto his plate. After the cat was fed, Edna forced herself to eat a piece of toast and drink some hot tea. The house was cold, and the small meal did nothing to lighten her sense of deep fatigue. Rather than light the logs in the fireplace to keep warm, she decided to go back to bed and huddle beneath her quilt.

Perhaps it was her late-afternoon nap or the food in her stomach, but despite her weariness, Edna slept badly. Tossing and turning in a fog of half sleep, she dreamed that Starling kept lobbing questions at her. Where had Tom gone? Who had been with him? Who had poisoned him? Was it a man or a woman? Why had they done such a thing?

In her dream, she tried to write down the questions, but Starling was talking too fast. Slow down, Edna tried to say, but the words would not come out. She needed more cards to write on. Starling began to throw large scraps of paper at her. Oversized, white index cards floated in the air around her as Edna flailed her arms and woke suddenly, entangled in her sheet, a pillow on top of her head.