Murder by Yew (An Edna Davies Mystery #1)(39)

The intruders had brought a dog to sniff her out. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, but she could only stare at the closet door, mesmerized. Is there something here I can use as a weapon? She flicked her eyes sideways, not daring to move her head, but it was impossible to see in the blackness, and her quietly probing hand found nothing but Albert’s boots. She prayed. Please don’t hurt me.

Just then, she thought she heard the front door slam. Only a second or two must have passed before she felt, more than heard, heavy footsteps directly outside the closet. Scratching. Whining. She was certain a dog was sniffing at the closet door. They’d found her hiding place, she thought, as the door swung open. Metal screeched against metal as coats were pushed aside, and her eyes were blinded by light. She screamed, throwing up her hands to protect her face.

“It’s okay. They’re gone.” Mary’s voice. “Hank scared them away.”

Edna felt something cold and wet in the palm of her hand. A dog’s nose. Hank? Still blinded from the light, she slid her arms around his neck, buried her face in his fur, and began to sob with relief.

“You’re all right now, Edna. They’re gone.” Mary repeated.

Edna felt a touch on her arm. Letting go of Hank, she grabbed Mary’s hand like a lifeline and allowed herself to be pulled up and out of the closet. Swallowing a cry, she clung to her neighbor. When she began to feel some strength return to her legs, Edna sidled to a nearby chair and sat down, still clinging to Mary’s wrist.

“Who was it? Did you see them?” Edna looked up at her neighbor’s tall, shadowy form.

“They must have run out this way when we came in the back. The mudroom door was wide open, and so was this front one. The rain was soaking the floor, so I shut it before we started looking for you.”

Edna couldn’t see her expression in the darkness, but Mary’s voice quavered with some of the fear she herself was feeling. Then Mary knelt beside Edna and, with her flashlight, picked out puddles of muddy water on both the wood floor and the rug. The largest spots were in the entryway, but the tracks traveled down to the living room, and some could be seen on the floor just inside the kitchen.

When Mary silently panned the light down the hall for the second time, Edna turned to put a restraining hand on her arm. “What brought you out at this hour? Were you walking in the storm? Oh, Mary, I’m so glad you were.” Edna wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

Mary played her light on the stairs leading to the rooms above. “I was in bed. Hank woke me up, so I went to check the windows ‘cause of the rain. That’s when I saw lights in your driveway. I didn’t see any headlights, but they might have turned off the car by the time I got to the window. It looked like two people carrying flashlights. One headed this way. You know, like he was walking around to the patio. I thought I’d better come over and check. Are you okay?”

Edna put up her hands, shielding her eyes against the light Mary aimed at her face. “Yes. Yes, I think so. Just shaky. Did you call the police?”

“Couldn’t. Phone’s still out.” Mary stood and turned, slowly playing the beam up and down the hall again. “What did they want?”

As light reflected off various objects, Edna noticed that Mary was holding a gun at her side. Her index finger pointed along the barrel as she held the weapon in her right hand, close to her leg.

“Would you have used that?” Edna didn’t know if she was more horrified at the thought of somebody being shot or of Mary carrying a gun.

“Don’t know. I’ve only used it for target practice before now.” She brought the pistol out from behind her leg, still aimed at the floor. “Don’t worry. The safety catch is on. I know what I’m doing.” Edna heard pride in her voice as Mary continued. “Tom taught me about guns after Father died. We used to practice together at the range.”

Incredible, Edna thought, how little I really knew about Tom—or Mary, for that matter. Aloud, she said, “We need to call the police. My phone is still out, but there’s a cellular in my car.” She started to rise.

Mary put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back onto the chair. “I’ll go. Where are your keys?”

“It’s not locked. The side door to the garage is open, too. It seemed so safe around here.” Edna said, feeling she needed to excuse her carelessness, then added ironically, “Please be careful. We don’t know if they’re still out there. Maybe you should take Hank with you.”

“No. I think he’d better stay with you. I’m pretty sure whoever broke in here tonight is long gone.” Mary pointed the light to a spot near Edna’s chair and said, “Hank, come.”

The big Lab had remained standing in front of the closet. At Mary’s command, he came and sat beside Edna, momentarily placing a paw on her thigh. She rubbed the dog’s head, murmuring, “Good boy.” When she looked up, she caught only a glimpse of Mary, wrapped in an olive green rain cape, slipping out the front door.

As Edna waited for Mary’s return, Benjamin startled her by jumping into her lap. She hadn’t seen him approach in the darkness. Hank made no noise, nor did he move from his spot beside her. She hugged the cat, happy to know he was okay, while Benjamin nudged her chin with his head and purred loudly. Then, as quickly as he’d appeared, the ginger cat stiffened and leaped into the blackness as the front door burst open.