Murder by Yew (An Edna Davies Mystery #1)(6)

“Miss Hattie, Mrs. Osbourne and Mary. They all waited on the old man. I think Mrs. Osbourne expected him to recover fully. He lived on about twenty years but only ever got well enough to move from his bed to a wheelchair. When he died, his wife collapsed with grief. Word was she wouldn’t let Mary out of her sight. By that time, Miss Hattie wasn’t too well herself, and Mary was pushin’ forty. Mrs. Osbourne died within a year of her husband, but Miss Hattie lived another ten, twelve years. She passed on about four years ago.”

Edna looked at the brown-shingled house next door. Set back from the road and a good two hundred yards from the Davies’ property, the three-story mansion stood among huge oaks and pine trees. Close to the building, thick lilac bushes reached up almost to the middle of the second story. Edna had not been inside the old house, but she imagined it to be cold and gloomy with so much foliage hiding it from the sun.

“So she never really had a life of her own,” Edna said almost to herself. “You’d think she’d be lonely, rambling around that big place all by herself. Why doesn’t she sell it?”

Tom looked surprised at the question. “It’s her home. Been in her family for generations. Besides, where would she go?” he asked, seeming to expect no answer. As he spoke, he reached into a pocket of his jeans and pulled out a resealable plastic bag filled with what looked like brightly colored gimp, beads and a small disposable lighter.

“What’s that?”

He laughed, sounding a little embarrassed. “Something to keep my hands busy. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. What are you making?”

“Bracelets and anklets. I sell ‘em down at Sting Ray’s.”

“What’s Sting Ray’s?”

“It’s a beer joint. Place where the college kids hang out. Not much more than a shack, really, but it’s right down on the beach. I’m finishing these up and will drop ‘em off this afternoon. They’re a big hit with the frat guys, for some reason. They give ‘em to their girlfriends.” He laughed again, this time sounding more amused.

Edna remembered fashioning lanyards out of the same material when she had been a Girl Scout many years ago. It was a pleasant memory. At her prompting, Tom explained how he made the colorful jewelry, starting with a tiny loop, braiding the gimp to the desired length, then attaching a painted bead to finish it off and form a nice little clasp with the loop. Burning the ends of the cord with the lighter served to secure the bead and prevented the braid from unraveling.

She clapped her hands in delight. “Do you make much money at this?”

He gave a self-conscious snort. “Nah. I’m not doing it to get rich. It’s something I started when Jenny was after me to give up smoking. It probably brings in about what I’d be spending on cigarettes each week. I save it in a jar, and whenever Danny wants something special, we check the cash to see if we can afford it.”

Edna leaned forward to watch as Tom took a psychedelic orange and black bracelet from his baggie, chose a neon green bead, and threaded it onto the unfinished end. When he picked up the disposable lighter, he looked behind him as if expecting to see someone standing there. “Where’s Hank?”

Mystified, Edna glanced around. “I don’t see him.”

Tom flicked the lighter, but no flame appeared. He flicked it again with no success. As he turned it upside down and shook it, Hank came running from behind the house and leaped up to put his front paws on Tom’s forearm.

Quickly, Edna moved her chair out of the way as Tom, fending off his dog with one arm, laughingly explained. “Jenny taught him this. It was another way to get me to give up smoking. Every time he hears the lighter, he jumps for it, tries to grab it right out of my hand. Down, Hank. Behave now.”

Eventually, Tom got the dog to quiet down only by putting the lighter back into his pocket, out of sight. Then, sending Hank off to find Danny, he sighed. “I should have known better. That dog can probably hear a pin drop a mile away.” He reached for his glass. After taking a long drink, he said, “With Doc gone, you gonna be okay here by yourself?”

Slightly annoyed that Tom might be thinking she couldn’t manage on her own, Edna asked, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Haven’t you heard about the break-ins around town? I don’t mean to scare you, but you know what they say about being forewarned …”

“I read in the paper about a burglary at the Miller place and that the police think it’s linked to the one at the Robinson’s a couple weeks ago.” She frowned, searching her memory. “According to my cleaning woman, the Millers were golfing in Bermuda, and the Robinsons were at their summer home on Cape Cod at the times their houses were broken into. Seems like only empty places are being targeted. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He shrugged. “If anyone’s heard that your husband’s away, they might think you went with him. With those trees hiding the house from the road …” His eyebrows went up. “Can’t always tell if someone’s home, you know.”

She laughed, but he was scaring her. “That’s a bit far-fetched, don’t you think? Of course people are going to know if I’m here. I’ve heard that burglars always scout a place out first. Certainly, they’d know if I was home or not.” She didn’t know if she was trying to convince him or herself.