Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes
Page 10
I nodded, grateful I had Violet there to help me.
The crowd murmured and we turned our attention to the side door. A body bag on a gurney came through the door, rolled by several men. Someone had strung yellow crime scene tape around the yard. A policeman lifted the tape so the coroner’s parade could push through, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as they made their way through to the ambulance.
“I’m really tired, Violet. Could I stay with you tonight?”
“Of course, you can stay as long as you want. Why don’t we get out of here?”
“You probably can’t leave yet,” Joe said, still facing the crowd. “I’m sure the police will want to get a statement from you about what happened. I’ll go ask them when they can get to it.”
His long legs easily stepped off the porch and he walked over to one of the officers, his hands tucked in his front jeans pockets. They exchanged words and Joe gestured in my direction with his shoulder. After another minute of discussion, he came back.
“Someone will be over in a minute.”
Violet got up off the porch floor and moved to the other wicker chair, dragging it closer to mine. She reached out her hand and we laced our fingers, holding tight. Memories of our youth rushed back, our fingers wound together, linking us. We were each other’s lifeboats in the storm of our mother’s disturbances. It struck me that this was just one more in a long line of others before it, albeit this was her last. I laid my head on Violet’s shoulder, like I’d done a million times before, closing my eyes. I took a deep breath, Violet’s familiar comfort radiating through me, and I told myself I could rest for just a moment. Violet was there to watch over me, just like always.
“Ms. Gardner?”
I opened my eyes, realizing I had dozed off. “Yes?” I rubbed a hand across my forehead.
A stocky middle-aged man in dress pants and a button down shirt stood in front of me. “I’m Detective Taylor. We’d like to get a statement from you now.”
Joe turned on the porch light so that Detective Taylor could see the contents of the notebook he flipped open. I told him everything from the moment I came home.
He looked up at me. “Ms. Gardner, your neighbors say you had an argument with your mother this afternoon.”
I nodded. “Yes, I did.”
Violet head snapped to me. “You did? You stood up to Momma?”
The detective raised his eyebrows. “I take it that it was unusual for Rose and your mother to argue?” He directed the question at Violet.
“They never fought, not even in high school. Rose took Momma’s verbal abuse and never said a word.” Violet turned to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “I’m so proud of you!”
Detective Taylor turned to me. “So why did you have your first fight today?”
I shrugged. “I dunno, nothin’ in particular. I guess I just finally had enough.”
He nodded, a soft look in his eyes. “I can understand that. Years of dealin’ with your difficult mother, it’s surprisin’ you lasted this long. You must have carried around a lot of repressed anger. Maybe once you let that anger loose you couldn’t control it and before you knew it, you were beatin’ your mother in the head with a rollin’ pin.”
“What?”
“Ms. Gardner, you have to admit it’s a mighty strange coincidence that the day you finally tell your mother off is the day she ends up dead.”
“Someone beat Momma in the head with a rollin’ pin?” Violet asked.
“Violet,” I tried to shush her.
“The wooden one or the marble one?”
“Violet!”
Violet turned to me. “Well, I always wanted that marble one, but I don’t think I want it anymore if someone bashed Momma in the head with it.”
“Violet!”
The officer cleared his throat. “Um, it was a wooden one and it was covered with dried pie dough.”
The blood drained away from my face and my chest tightened. I made a gasping-gagging noise as I tried to catch my breath.
“I made a pie this afternoon.” I choked out. “I put the rollin’ pin in the sink before I left.”
“So it’s safe to say your fingerprints will be on it when we check?”
“Well, yeah. I rolled out the piecrust. I didn't do the dishes before I left and I’m sure Momma didn’t do them.” I almost snorted. Momma would drop dead before doing the dishes. Oops, wrong choice of euphemisms.
“I think maybe we should have you come down to the station to answer some questions.”
My mouth dropped open.
“You honestly don't think Rose killed our momma, do you?” Violet asked. She said it like it was the most ridiculous thing he could have uttered.
“That’s not for me to decide, but it does look suspicious ma’am.”
I’d been suspected of many things but never murder. I knew I should be more worried, yet it seemed so preposterous.
Detective Taylor looked like he was about to walk away. But he turned back to me, almost as if it were an afterthought. “What time did you come home, Ms. Gardner?”
“Just a little bit before Joe called the police. I found Momma, then came over to Joe’s.”
“Did anyone see your car pull up?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t take my car. I walked.”
“And did anyone see you?”
My heart sank. “I have no idea.”
The crowd murmured and we turned our attention to the side door. A body bag on a gurney came through the door, rolled by several men. Someone had strung yellow crime scene tape around the yard. A policeman lifted the tape so the coroner’s parade could push through, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as they made their way through to the ambulance.
“I’m really tired, Violet. Could I stay with you tonight?”
“Of course, you can stay as long as you want. Why don’t we get out of here?”
“You probably can’t leave yet,” Joe said, still facing the crowd. “I’m sure the police will want to get a statement from you about what happened. I’ll go ask them when they can get to it.”
His long legs easily stepped off the porch and he walked over to one of the officers, his hands tucked in his front jeans pockets. They exchanged words and Joe gestured in my direction with his shoulder. After another minute of discussion, he came back.
“Someone will be over in a minute.”
Violet got up off the porch floor and moved to the other wicker chair, dragging it closer to mine. She reached out her hand and we laced our fingers, holding tight. Memories of our youth rushed back, our fingers wound together, linking us. We were each other’s lifeboats in the storm of our mother’s disturbances. It struck me that this was just one more in a long line of others before it, albeit this was her last. I laid my head on Violet’s shoulder, like I’d done a million times before, closing my eyes. I took a deep breath, Violet’s familiar comfort radiating through me, and I told myself I could rest for just a moment. Violet was there to watch over me, just like always.
“Ms. Gardner?”
I opened my eyes, realizing I had dozed off. “Yes?” I rubbed a hand across my forehead.
A stocky middle-aged man in dress pants and a button down shirt stood in front of me. “I’m Detective Taylor. We’d like to get a statement from you now.”
Joe turned on the porch light so that Detective Taylor could see the contents of the notebook he flipped open. I told him everything from the moment I came home.
He looked up at me. “Ms. Gardner, your neighbors say you had an argument with your mother this afternoon.”
I nodded. “Yes, I did.”
Violet head snapped to me. “You did? You stood up to Momma?”
The detective raised his eyebrows. “I take it that it was unusual for Rose and your mother to argue?” He directed the question at Violet.
“They never fought, not even in high school. Rose took Momma’s verbal abuse and never said a word.” Violet turned to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “I’m so proud of you!”
Detective Taylor turned to me. “So why did you have your first fight today?”
I shrugged. “I dunno, nothin’ in particular. I guess I just finally had enough.”
He nodded, a soft look in his eyes. “I can understand that. Years of dealin’ with your difficult mother, it’s surprisin’ you lasted this long. You must have carried around a lot of repressed anger. Maybe once you let that anger loose you couldn’t control it and before you knew it, you were beatin’ your mother in the head with a rollin’ pin.”
“What?”
“Ms. Gardner, you have to admit it’s a mighty strange coincidence that the day you finally tell your mother off is the day she ends up dead.”
“Someone beat Momma in the head with a rollin’ pin?” Violet asked.
“Violet,” I tried to shush her.
“The wooden one or the marble one?”
“Violet!”
Violet turned to me. “Well, I always wanted that marble one, but I don’t think I want it anymore if someone bashed Momma in the head with it.”
“Violet!”
The officer cleared his throat. “Um, it was a wooden one and it was covered with dried pie dough.”
The blood drained away from my face and my chest tightened. I made a gasping-gagging noise as I tried to catch my breath.
“I made a pie this afternoon.” I choked out. “I put the rollin’ pin in the sink before I left.”
“So it’s safe to say your fingerprints will be on it when we check?”
“Well, yeah. I rolled out the piecrust. I didn't do the dishes before I left and I’m sure Momma didn’t do them.” I almost snorted. Momma would drop dead before doing the dishes. Oops, wrong choice of euphemisms.
“I think maybe we should have you come down to the station to answer some questions.”
My mouth dropped open.
“You honestly don't think Rose killed our momma, do you?” Violet asked. She said it like it was the most ridiculous thing he could have uttered.
“That’s not for me to decide, but it does look suspicious ma’am.”
I’d been suspected of many things but never murder. I knew I should be more worried, yet it seemed so preposterous.
Detective Taylor looked like he was about to walk away. But he turned back to me, almost as if it were an afterthought. “What time did you come home, Ms. Gardner?”
“Just a little bit before Joe called the police. I found Momma, then came over to Joe’s.”
“Did anyone see your car pull up?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t take my car. I walked.”
“And did anyone see you?”
My heart sank. “I have no idea.”
