Cunning
“We’ll do our best to find out what happened.” His voice businesslike.
“It’s good we had this chance to visit, Sam. It is important for me, as mayor, to be certain all of Adelaide’s public servants are focused on our primary task”—great emphasis here—“of serving our community. Often it is necessary for public servants to be certain that we do no harm. And”—a tinkling laugh—“we must remember that truth is usually simple—”
Patronizing
“—and not twist our thoughts seeking complicated solutions. Dear Susan.” Sympathy oozed from her voice. “No doubt she felt so ill she misjudged how many pills she took. Or”—she lifted her heavy shoulders, let them fall—“though there’s never any need for public revelation of suicide, illness sometimes is too great a burden to be borne.”
Despite her unattractive bulk and bullying nature, Neva Lumpkin was nobody’s fool. Suicide was a lovely resolution.
No scruples
Chief Cobb glanced toward the blackboard as I lowered the chalk. I let the piece fall to the floor.
Frowning, Cobb pushed up from his chair and walked slowly toward the blackboard. He moved quietly for such a big man.
Mayor Lumpkin followed his progress. She sniffed as he bent to pick up the chalk. “I believe this is the only office in City Hall with an old-fashioned chalkboard. Everyone else is up to date with dry-erase boards and colored markers. We have to keep pace with the times, Chief Cobb.”
He was gruff. “Chalk was good enough for me when I was a high school math teacher. It’s good enough now.”
“Really! In any event,” she spoke loudly, “Jacqueline will be relieved when I tell her everything will be resolved quickly and quietly.”
Cobb swung toward her, his expression abstracted. “I’ll bring Mrs. Flynn up to date on the investigation when I meet with the family at the house this afternoon.”
The mayor’s gaze was cool. “Surely that meeting is no longer necessary since it’s obvious Susan’s death was undoubtedly self-inflicted.”
Cobb’s face tightened. “I’ll tell you what, Neva, you look after City Hall, I’ll look after suspicious deaths.”
“I am looking after City Hall.” She heaved herself to her feet, face dangerously red, and strode to the door. She stopped in the doorway, head held high. A trumpet roll could not have better announced a dramatic farewell. “I expect a sensible attitude on the part of all city employees. If you refuse to accept ambiguity—and most emphatically there can be nothing certain in the circumstances of Susan’s death—the council will have to consider what action to take concerning the renewal of your contract in January. It may turn out that you should consider a return to teaching.” She flounced into the hall, banging the door shut behind her.
Chief Cobb’s exclamation was short, explicit, and forceful.
I had to agree. She certainly was.
He shrugged. “Comes with the territory.” He started for his desk, then turned back to the blackboard.
I suspected no one knew better than he that the blackboard had been quite clean.
Once again I’d intruded upon the discrete world. Despite the Precepts, it was a very good thing I had done so. The longer Chief Cobb stared at the blackboard, the more time I had. He needed help to stave off the mayor’s interventions, discover the truth, and not lose his job in the process.
I looked at the legal pad on his desk. Earlier he’d written: What was Susan Flynn’s mental state? Imitating his neat square printing, I added: Check with Father Abbott. The rector would know Susan Flynn well and certainly attest to her mental health.
After Interview persons who saw her in the last few days, I added: Was there any disruption of the household recently? This would catch Keith’s arrival.
His third question was all-important: Who inherits? I added: When did she last see her lawyer and what did they discuss?
I studied question four: Who moved the body after death and why? I decided to go for broke: Was someone aware Susan Flynn had been murdered and set up a crime scene to be sure there was an investigation?
The pencil was yanked from my hand.
“Ooh.” I swung around and my elbow jammed into Chief Cobb’s side.
“Ouch.” He massaged his side. “How can a pencil stand up by itself?” He looked uncertainly at his chair. “I didn’t bend over. What did I bump into?”
I tried to still my quick breaths. I should have kept a closer eye on the chief. I moved well out of his way.
He stared at the pencil, small in his massive hand, then toward the blackboard. He shook his head in denial. “That woman’s driving me nuts.”
I was offended until I realized he was referring to Mayor Lumpkin. Perhaps he would attribute any confusion on his part to his irritation with her.
He gingerly placed the pencil on the desk, again shook his head. “Now I’m seeing things.” He spoke aloud, forcefully. He flipped the legal pad shut without seeing my insertions. “I can’t think straight when Neva’s around.” He glanced at the clock and tucked the legal pad in a folder.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A young woman bundled in a pink jacket counted to ten. Cheeks red from the cold, Keith ran as fast as he could across the front yard of Pritchard House. He skidded around a big sycamore and pressed against the trunk.
“…eight, nine, ten. Okay, Colin, you can look around now. See if you can find Keith.”
A skinny dark-haired boy about seven years old dropped his hands from his eyes and took a half dozen steps toward a fir.
“In the freezer, Colin.” She wrapped her arms tight across her front, gave a dramatic shiver.
Colin veered to his right.
“Colder. Ice on your nose.”
Colin swiped his nose with a red mitten and laughed. He turned and retraced his steps.
“Warmer.”
Colin trotted ahead.
“Getting hot.” She clapped.
I wished I could stay outside and watch the boys play. Colin shouted as he came around the sycamore. “Got you,” he shouted as he grabbed Keith, who squealed with laughter.
I dropped into the living room for a different game of gotcha!
Chief Cobb stood to one side of the fireplace. A cheerful fire crackled. The living room was warm, but there was no air of holiday cheer.
Jake’s eyes were huge and strained. “I talked to Father Abbott at St. Mildred’s. Do you know when Susan—when we can have her service?”
“The autopsy has been completed.” The chief looked commanding, his heavy face purposeful.
Was there a greater feeling of tension among his listeners than the quiet statement should evoke? Did one of them fear what had been found?
“The body will be released this afternoon.”
“I’ll call Father Abbott.” Jake’s relief was apparent. “Tuesday morning will be good. We can announce the services in the Monday and Tuesday papers.”
“I know there is much for the family to deal with.” The chief gazed at his listeners. “I appreciate the opportunity to meet with those who spent time with Mrs. Flynn on her last day to live.”
There was a grim finality to his words, reminding each of them of their proximity to Susan’s death. He reached into his folder, pulled out the legal pad and a sheaf of printed pages. “I’d like to understand how you knew her and why you were here yesterday.”
Each person in turn described their connection to Susan as Chief Cobb took notes.
Jake Flynn’s face was puffy from lack of sleep. She wore a little too much makeup and her hair had untidy sprigs. Today’s blue cashmere sweater and gray tweed skirt were more flattering than the brown sweater and slacks she’d worn yesterday. She sat on the sofa beside Peg, whose eyes were swollen from crying. Peg’s black dress emphasized her paleness. She wore no jewelry. Even though Dave Lewis sat on the small sofa beside her, the space between them seemed huge. His face wore a conventional expression of concern. Gina Satterlee sat stiffly on a rosewood chair, twining a strand of dark hair in her fingers. She was the picture of fashion in a crimson sweater and gray worsted wool slacks and red loafers. Tucker Satterlee, his freshly shaved face brooding and still, slouched in an oversize leather chair in a rumpled plaid shirt and Levi’s and boots. Harrison and Charlotte Hammond were in their Sunday best, although his charcoal gray suit was wrinkled and his tie askew. Her long-sleeved black silk blouse matched a subtle geometric square in a violet silk georgette skirt that ruffled nicely over blue leather boots.