Page 22 of Little Last Words
He was missing my point.
“While we’re talking plans, is there anything else you’d like to tell me?” I asked.
I figured I’d get shot down, until he said, “Your family gets you for lunch. I get you for dinner.”
I grabbed my handbag and headed toward the front door, smiling as I glanced back at him and said, “Who gets me for dessert?”
CHAPTER9
Iheaded down to the gate, stopping a moment to admire the rosebushes I’d just planted in the garden. They were a variety of Mr. Lincoln hybrid teas with bright red petals, and they smelled divine.
As I neared Binocular Lady, I got a better look at her. I guessed she was in her eighties. She had a thick mane of long, gray curls and was dressed in a loose-fitting, stylish, bohemian-style dress. Her gold ring, necklace, and earrings told me she appreciated vintage jewelry just as much as I did.
As soon as she saw me, she started talking.
“No one will tell me what’s going on at the young lady’s house on our street,” she said. “Police have been coming and going all morning. There was an ambulance, and then someone was wheeled out on a stretcher, and this other man was taking a bunch of pictures … and … and I just want to know what’s going on.”
“Why come to me?” I asked. “Why not talk to the police?”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “I tried that already. They sent me away without so much as an iota of information. It’s not right. I’m a citizen of this county. I’m also part of the Neighborhood Watch on our street. I deserve to know what’s happening in that house.”
The more she spoke, the more entitled she sounded.
“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” I said.
“Anything. You were there this morning. I saw you.”
“And I saw you, staring at us through binoculars.”
“Looking through binoculars isn’t a crime.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Rita Redgrave. I live at 48 Roanoke with my husband, Aaron.”
“Yes, I know where you live.”
“Of course, you do. I see you walk by while we’re out on the front porch in the mornings.”
“I’ve waved to you, on more than one occasion. You never wave back.”
She shrugged. “We acknowledge you with a nod here and there. What can I say? We’re wary of strangers, I guess.”
“And yet, you don’t seem wary now.”
My comment silenced her for a moment.
“You got me there,” she said. “Maybe I should have said hello, and I didn’t. I’m saying it now. Hello. Now, to my question … What’s going on at that house?”
“I can’t discuss it.”
“A news van showed up not long after you left. It’s parked across the street. Were you aware?”
“I was not.”
“Whatever you’re keeping to yourself, it won’t stay a secret for long. If there’s a murderer loose in our neighborhood, we all deserve to know about it.”
There was that word again.