“Windows?”
“Those too, Sam. Don’t worry, you’d have heard about it if there was anything suspicious.”
About then I saw a familiar figure strolling along the rocky shoreline. It was Jerry Raspin, my new friend from the previous week, and I assumed the woman with him was his wife. When he saw us on the porch he changed his route and walked over. He nodded to me and then addressed the judge’s wife. “Good to see you up and about again, Maud. Feeling better?”
“Very much better, thank you.”
“This weather would make anyone feel better.” He turned to me. “Dr. Hawthorne, this is my wife, Susan.”
I smiled and shook her hand. “I believe we met at one of the hospital functions some years ago.” She was a large woman, about her husband’s size, and I imagined they made a matching set on the local social scene, where Annabel and I rarely ventured.
Our mailman, a little fellow named Cally Forbes, had appeared at the next cottage, the one rented by Mrs. Spring. Since the cottage mail in this section was usually left in a row of boxes on the street, I assumed he must have some sort of special-delivery item for her. “I’d better go see what Cally wants,” I decided, when his knocking on the door yielded no response.
He turned as I approached. “I have a special delivery for Mrs. Spring. Do you know if she’s around?”
“I was talking to her earlier, Cally. She probably just drove into town. Is it something you can leave with me?”
“No, she has to sign for it. Thanks anyway, Dr. Hawthorne. I’ll try again later.”
“I saw her yesterday,” Susan Raspin volunteered when I returned to the porch, “but not to talk to. She was going somewhere in her car. I think she has problems.”
After a bit more chatting about the weather and the beauties of Chester Lake, Raspin and his wife moved on and I returned home too. Whatever the cause of Maud Hastings's illness, she seemed to have recovered now.
The following day, Tuesday, President Roosevelt announced he would run for a fourth term, bringing further grumbles from those who felt there should be term limits for the President. But the nation was behind him and few thought New York’s Governor Dewey would be able to defeat him.
Annabel’s assistant had phoned earlier with an emergency involving a dozen undernourished cats being kept by an elderly widow. “I have to go in to help her for an hour or two,” she told me as she grabbed the key to our old Buick. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“You’d better be! I don’t want my son delivered at Annabel’s Ark.”
It was early afternoon when Mrs. Spring appeared at our door, wondering if anyone was home. “I’m right here,” I called out, going to greet her. “My wife had to go in to the Ark.”
“Was the mailman looking for me?” she asked.
“Cally Forbes? He had something yesterday you had to sign for. Said he’d be back later and try again.”
“I must have been at the grocery store and missed him.”
“Maybe he’ll try again today. I haven’t seen him yet this afternoon.” I invited her in and offered her a cup of tea, which she accepted.
“That’s very kind of you,” she told me as I poured hot water over the tea bag. “Please call me Grace. I feel like an old lady having tea in the afternoon. Because I’m a widow, everyone feels sorry for me.”
“Did your husband die in the war?”
“Nothing so dramatic. He died of cancer in prison. He’d been drinking and he killed a teenage girl with his car.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill myself like last year’s widow.”
“I hope not.”
“This tea tastes good.”
I smiled and said, “I should have offered you a beer, but I’m not sure we have any.”
I told her about my visit to Judge Hastings the previous day. “Apparently his wife had been ill, but she’s better now. She came out on the porch and talked a bit.”
“Maud imagines all sorts of things. She’s no sicker than you or me. She’s just looking for pity from her husband.” She hesitated and then continued, “One night I caught her peering in the window of my cottage.”
“Why would she do that?”
Grace Spring sighed. “Perhaps she thought I was entertaining the judge.”
“Oh.”
“I wasn’t. I’d never do anything like that.”
“I believe you.”
Just then the telephone in the kitchen rang and I went to answer it. Annabel was on the phone, saying she’d be another hour at the Ark. “Are you all right?” I asked.
“Fine. I’ll be home in an hour.”
“Okay. Maybe we’ll go out for dinner.”
We chatted a few minutes longer and I heard Grace Spring call out, “I have to go now. Thanks for the tea.” The screen door opened and closed before I could say goodbye.
Annabel came home shortly after five, and I could see she was a bit tired. “Do you want to just rest?” I asked.
“No, I’m hungry. I just don’t have the energy to make dinner for us.”
“That’s easily solved. We’ll drive in to Max's Steakhouse. We haven’t seen him in a few weeks anyway.”
“Sounds good to me. He always has something I can eat. Call him and make sure he’s got a table.”
The night had grown cooler and I decided to wear a jacket. While Annabel changed her clothes I locked and bolted the front door and made sure all the windows were latched, remembering Sheriff Lens's warning about burglaries. As we were exiting out the back door she spied the teacup and saucer I’d put in the sink. “What’s this? Have you become a secret tea drinker?”
I chuckled. “Forgot to tell you, Grace Spring stopped by and I gave her some tea. She’s had a hard life.” I locked the back door as we left and I told her about Grace’s visit as we drove into town.
“You’re on a first-name basis with her now, I see.”
“Yeah, Grace Spring is my secret lover.”
“You never know. Things happen at summer cottages.”
“They sure happen at ours. People commit suicide.”
I swung into the Steakhouse parking lot. Max was glad to see us, as always, and asked if he could send over his usual bottle of wine. Annabel demurred and I settled for just one glass. It was a pleasant meal, and only Annabel’s condition had us leaving earlier than usual. We drove by our house and stopped to pick up any mail that hadn’t been forwarded to the cottage. It had just gotten dark by the time we returned to Chester Lake. I pulled up and parked behind the cottage, then helped Annabel out of the car and slid my key into the lock. It turned, but the door didn’t open.
“What’s the matter with this?” I asked.
“The inside bolt must be on.”
“How could that be unless there’s someone inside?”
We went around to the front door with the same results. “I threw the bolt on that myself,” I said, “but the back door couldn’t be bolted. The cottage was empty when we left.”
There were no lights on and we could see nothing inside the darkened cottage. I went back to the car, took out the flashlight I carried in the glove compartment, and shone it through the glass in the kitchen door. I could see nothing unusual and went around to one of the living room windows. Annabel started to follow me but I made her get back in the car and lock the doors. I didn’t like the looks of this at all.
I took a moment to peer into the living room by the flashlight’s glow, then shut it off and walked quickly next-door to Jerry Raspin’s cottage, where a light was burning. “May I use your phone?” I asked Susan when she came to the door. “It’s an emergency.”
“Of course,” she said, looking puzzled.
“What is it?” Jerry asked, but I didn’t answer.
I gave the operator the sheriff's number and when he answered I spoke quickly. “I’m at our cottage. You’d better come out right away. It’s locked but I looked through the window and I can see Grace Spring’s body hanging from a hook in our ceiling.”