Inside, I ducked around family groups, children tugging toward the toy department and impatient women pushing carts piled high with clothes, housewares, electronics, toys, picture frames, and boxes containing furniture to be assembled.
Peg wheeled first to the children’s department. It took a moment for a harried but cheerful sales associate to help her find an appropriate car seat for Keith. Peg picked a sturdy one and plumped it in the basket.
I was close behind Peg and Keith when they reached the boys’ department. Women shifted piles of jeans on tables. Babies cried. A little girl stamped her foot and demanded a Barbie. I was in shopping heaven.
Peg was quick. Soon the cart contained three corduroy trousers, fire-engine red, chestnut brown, and cream, several pairs of jeans, a half dozen nice thick fresh long-sleeved cotton pullover shirts, and a nifty dark blue snow coat.
Keith glimpsed me as she turned him to see how a shirt looked. His eyes brightened and he smiled.
Peg looked at him in surprise.
He pointed and I heard his low murmur. “There’s Jerrie.”
Before Peg’s gaze swung in my direction, I ducked behind a table piled with sweaters and crouched low, pretending to pick something up from the floor. It was fine for Peg to equably accept Keith’s invisible friend, but she might be more than a little curious if Keith’s redheaded friend appeared.
A little girl under the table gazed at me. Pixie glasses gave her eyes an owl-like stare. “I like caves. Do you?”
I smiled. “I love caves. Be sure to say hello to the dragon who lives in the cave.” I pointed behind her. “The one with big sweet brown eyes and green scales. If you give him a hug, it will bring you good luck.” I slowly rose and peered over the mound of sweaters.
Peg was absorbed in finding the right sizes. Finally, she pushed aside a stack of jeans. “These will be perfect. I think we have everything we need. Now, let’s go to the toy department.” She swung him up to ride in the cart.
When they reached the toy department, Keith’s eyes rounded in amazement.
Peg helped him down. “Let’s pick out three toys.”
Overwhelmed, Keith simply stared.
Peg took him by the hand and they went up and down the toy aisles. When they finished, he clutched a Mr. Potato Head Spider Spud box and a LEGO building set. Peg pushed him in one cart and behind her pulled another carrying a Cozy Coupe II Car.
I was smiling as I disappeared.
What a lovely day.
A plump dark-haired woman bustled about the Pritchard kitchen. Christmas cookies cooled on racks on the countertop. Her placid face was relaxed and cheerful. “I’ve baked six dozen cookies. I’m making popcorn balls and candies. We’re going to have the best neighborhood Christmas party ever. This tray”—and she pointed to a lacquerware tray at the end of the counter—“has treats for the house.” She placed a glass of milk on another tray with cookies and a teapot and cups and added a handful of red napkins. “Miss Susan’s excited as she can be. I hope she’s not overdoing. She’s come to the stairs and called down a half dozen times to see if you’re back. You go right up and show her everything.”
Peg smiled and took the tray. “Thank you, Tess. And thanks for the loan of the car seat. I put yours back in your car. I bought a new one when we shopped.”
Keith was on his knees, his eyes excited as he carefully petted Duchess.
“That car seat’s been warmed by all my grandkids and I’m glad you could use it for Keith.” The cook bent down. “Here, Keith, I made this especially for you.”
He turned to take the small triangular-shaped piece of candy, brown with bits of pecans. “Thank you.”
“Your daddy loved Aunt Bill’s candy and I’ll bet you will too.”
As Peg and Keith walked up the steps, Keith nibbling his candy, I checked upstairs and down. I didn’t find Jake or Gina. With Peg and Keith in Susan’s bedroom and Tess in the kitchen, I was free to discover what I could.
Although I had arrived only the evening before, I feared Wiggins might feel I’d not made enough progress in learning about those connected to Susan Flynn. Although I was fairly clear on their relationship to Susan, not blood kin as Gina had emphasized to Jake, I had yet to find out the full names of everyone present last night and where they lived.
I looked for an address book in the study. I checked near the telephone. I opened desk drawers. No address book. Possibly Susan kept her address book upstairs.
Photograph albums in a bookcase yielded many pictures of now familiar faces, but the inscriptions weren’t helpful. Those who identify family photos expect that first names will suffice. Nor could I utilize a phone book since I didn’t have surnames. In a flash, I realized the solution. The church directory. Susan Flynn was a lifelong member of St. Mildred’s, as had been her family before her. As I knew from my last sojourn in Adelaide, St. Mildred’s had a pictorial church directory, the better, of course, to encourage recognition and fellowship among members. Somewhere in this house there had to be a church directory. I would find plenty of names and pictures, including, I was willing to bet, the full name and address of Susan’s lawyer. As a staunch supporter of the church, Susan would be very likely to choose her lawyer from among its members. His office would contain all the information about the beneficiaries of Susan’s will.
The kitchen was the most likely spot for directories of all sorts. I sped to the kitchen and was immediately rewarded. A church directory hung on a silver cord from a hook below an old-fashioned wall telephone squeezed between a cabinet and the refrigerator. The directory dangled perhaps a foot from the floor, tantalizing as a tiara to a jewel thief.
Tess rolled out pastry crust on a wooden board. She whistled an off-key but energetic version of “Deck the Halls,” tapping time with her right foot. She stood at the end of the counter, very near the recess that held the telephone and the directory.
I didn’t have much room to maneuver. I edged sideways to reach into the narrow space between the cabinet and the refrigerator. If she didn’t look down, I could filch it with no problem. As I slipped the cord over the hook, the directory swung in an arc.
Fur pressed against my leg. The directory was yanked from my hand and dragged to the ground.
I jumped and gasped.
Tess jerked at the unexpected sound. She bumped into me, felt an undeniable presence—after all, I was there even if not seen—and gave a shocked yelp.
I scrambled backward, tripped over Duchess, and crashed to the floor, making an unfortunate thudding sound.
The calico cat howled, her tail straight up.
Tess pressed a floury hand against her chest. “My goodness me my, Duchess, whatever got into you? Look at that, you knocked down the directory. Bad girl. I’d put you out in the cold but my hands are all floury. Now you get yourself back to your cushion.”
Duchess’s tail switched and she gave Tess a malevolent look.
Tess snagged the cord, lifted the directory, and returned it to its hook.
Unblinking golden eyes followed the progress of the directory.
I was not going to be outwitted by a cat.
It was as if Duchess heard my thoughts. That malevolent stare settled on me.
It was time to make peace. I moved close, held out an invisible hand.
Duchess sniffed. She pushed her head against my hand, clearly inviting me to pet her.
I obliged.
Duchess dropped to the floor, rolled over on her back.
Still kneading pastry, Tess looked over her shoulder. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d been into some catnip.”
Duchess came to her feet, moved close to me, twined around my ankles.
Tess stopped kneading. “Duchess, are you all right?”
It was time for finesse. I hurried outside, then turned and rapped on the back door.