Murder by Yew (An Edna Davies Mystery #1)(51)

“Fine, everyone’s fine.” Edna didn’t want to go into a long explanation about break-ins and family not being home. She needed a distraction. “Let’s go out to dinner tonight, my treat.” When Mary started to shake her head, Edna held up a hand, palm out. “Please don’t argue. You’ve been very kind, inviting me to stay here. I’d like to do something nice for you. What do you say, Italian or Chinese?”

Mary opted for Italian, saying she knew of a great little place in Narragansett. Picking up Edna’s suitcase from beside the back stairs, she showed her guest to a bedroom above the kitchen. Before they changed to go out, Mary gave Edna a quick tour of the rest of the house. Most of the rooms were closed off, and she merely pointed to doors, saying things like “Mom’s room” and “my old nursery” as they walked through the dark and gloomy hallways of the second and third stories.

The two open rooms she actually took Edna into were on the second floor, Mary’s own bedroom and a small, adjacent sitting room. The furniture was highly polished, and the canopied bed was neatly made. On the floor beside the four-poster was a large, red plaid bed for Hank.

In the little sitting room, two overstuffed chairs framed a small fireplace. A twenty-five inch television stood on a sturdy mahogany table, and on either side of the door leading out to the hallway, the walls consisted of built-in shelves, stuffed to overflowing with books and magazines. A large, round braided rug covered the parquet floor, and an end table with a reading lamp sat next to a floral-patterned settee. Edna guessed this was where Mary spent most of her time. It didn’t escape her attention that the two rooms were on the north side of the house with a fine view of Edna’s own house and backyard patio.

A tour of the top floor led them around to the back stairs and down to Edna’s assigned room above the kitchen. Edna suggested meeting downstairs in fifteen minutes. As she dressed for dinner, she wondered, not for the first time, if Mary had ever thought of moving out of this huge, dismally dark mansion.

The Italian restaurant that Mary had chosen was busy by the time they arrived at six-thirty. Smelling of garlic and marinara sauce, the large main room was warm and hummed with sounds of conversation, clinking glassware and clattering utensils. The two women were shown to a heavy wooden table next to a wall. At the suggestion of the maitre’d, they ordered a small bottle of Chianti Classico.

“This is fun.” Mary raised her glass toward Edna after the waiter had poured the wine and taken their dinner orders. Edna smiled and held up her own goblet in a silent toast. She decided it was not the time to ask Mary for another favor. Not yet.

“Codfish is recovering,” Mary said after swallowing a sip of the Chianti.

“Codfish?”

“Yes. You know, the old guy that Aleda ran down. He’s going to be fine once his broken arm heals. I heard that he should be out of the hospital in a day or two.”

“That’s wonderful.” Once Edna realized what Mary was talking about, she really was happy for the good news. “Does that mean the Sharps won’t be moving after all?”

“Oh, no. Aleda says she can’t ever hold her head up around here again. She nearly killed a man. People don’t forget a thing like that—not around here, they don’t.” Mary’s tone was more matter-of-fact than critical.

And what if he had died? Edna thought of Tom. An involuntary shudder went down her spine as she wondered again if she, too, would be cold-shouldered out of the community and if Albert would be as supportive as Aleda’s husband seemed to be. She reached for her wine and took another swallow. It wouldn’t happen if she could help it, but at least she would try to put it out of her mind for tonight.

As they relaxed and ate their pasta, the two women talked about inconsequential matters. After dinner, they decided to have coffee and an apple pastry for dessert. When this final tidbit had been placed before them, Edna thought it might be a good time to bring up the subject that had been at the back of her mind throughout most of the afternoon. Talking a deep breath and carefully setting her coffee cup on its saucer, she leaned forward, resting her right hand and forearm on the table.

“Mary,” she began hesitantly, “I know you believe the police have been thorough in investigating Tom’s death, but I have my doubts. Would you please talk to Nancy and ask her if she knows where her father’s appointment book is?”

Mary bowed her head for what seemed like several very long minutes. When she finally looked up, there was a stubborn set to her jaw. “Nancy is the only link I have left to Jenny and Tom. She already doesn’t come to visit me anymore because you live next door. Since Danny seems to be the only one who can tell the police where he and his grandfather went last Thursday, she believes you’ll try to harm him somehow. If she thought I was running interference for you, she might not ever speak to me again.”

“But you know better, don’t you? You know I wouldn’t hurt that little boy.”

Mary nodded, her look softening. “Of course, I do.” The hard line returned to her jaw as she said, “But I won’t jeopardize my relationship with Tom and Jenny’s family.”

“Look, I don’t expect you to convince Nancy of my innocence, but can’t you just ask her about the book? She doesn’t have to know you’re doing it for me. Wouldn’t you like to know if it’s been found and what’s in it?”