“Is she hurt?” Tucker ran over.
Mrs. Murphy, moving at a possum trot, declared, “Her essences are shaken.”
In the collision the plastic case in which BoomBoom kept her potions slammed up against the dash, cracking and spilling out a concoction of rose, sage, and comfrey.
Harry opened the backdoor. “Oh, no!”
“I couldn’t help it! My heel got stuck in the mat.” BoomBoom wept.
Mrs. Hogendobber stuck her head out the door. Her body immediately followed. “Are you all right?”
“My neck hurts.”
“Do you want me to call the rescue squad?” Harry asked, dubious but giving BoomBoom the benefit of the doubt.
“No. I’ll go over to Larry’s. It’s probably whiplash.” She viewed the caved-in side of the truck. “I’m insured, Harry, don’t worry.”
Harry sighed. Her poor truck. Tucker ran underneath to inspect the frame, which was undamaged. The BMW had suffered one little dent in the right fender.
Pewter, moving at a slower pace, walked around the truck. “We can still drive home in it. It’s only the side that’s bashed in.”
“I’ll call the sheriff’s department.” Miranda, satisfied that BoomBoom was fine, walked back into the post office.
Market Shiflett opened his backdoor. “I thought I heard something.” He surveyed the situation.
Before he could speak, BoomBoom said, “No bones broken.”
“Good.” He heard the front door ring and ducked back into his store.
“Come inside.” Harry helped her former rival out of the car. “It’s cold out here.”
“My heel stuck in that brand-new mat I bought.” She pointed to a fuzzy mat with the BMW logo on it.
“BoomBoom, why wear high heels to run your errands?”
“Oh—well—” Her hand fluttered.
“Where have you been? You always come down to pick up your mail.”
“I’ve been under the weather. These murders upset me.”
Once inside, Mrs. Hogendobber brewed a strong cup of tea while they waited for someone to appear from the sheriff’s department.
“I think it’s dreadful that Darla McKinchie, that self-centered nothing of an actress, isn’t having the service here.” BoomBoom, revived by the tea, told them about Herb’s phone call. She’d seen Herbie Jones at the florist.
“That is pretty cold-blooded.” Harry bent down to tie her shoelaces. Mrs. Murphy helped.
“Someone should sponsor a service here.”
“That would be lovely, BoomBoom, why don’t you do it?” Miranda smiled, knowing she’d told BoomBoom to do what she wanted to do anyway.
After the officer left, having asked questions about the accident and taken pictures, the insurance agent showed up and did the same. Then he was gone, and finally BoomBoom herself left, which greatly relieved Harry, who strained to be civil to a woman she disliked. BoomBoom said she was too rattled to drive her car, so Lucinda Coles picked her up. BoomBoom left her car at the post office, keys in the ignition.
42
“April, cooperate, for Christ’s sake.” Cooper, exasperated, rapped her knuckles on the table.
“No, I’ll stay here and live off the county for a while. My taxes paid for this jail.” She pushed back a stray forelock.
“Removing documents pertinent to the murder of Roscoe Fletcher—”
April interrupted. “But they’re not! They’re pertinent to the operations of St. Elizabeth’s, and that’s none of your business.”
Cooper slapped her hand hard on the table. “Embezzlement is my business!”
April, not one to be shaken by an accusation, pursed her lips. “Prove it.”
Cynthia stretched her long legs, took a deep breath, counted to ten, and started anew. “You have an important place in this community. Don’t throw it away to protect a dead man.”
Folding her arms across her chest, April withdrew into hostile silence.
Cooper did likewise.
Twenty minutes later April piped up, “You can’t prove I had an affair with him either. That’s what everyone thinks. Don’t give me this baloney about having an important place in the community.”
“But you do. You’re important to St. Elizabeth’s.”
April leaned forward, both elbows on the table. “I’m a secretary. That’s nothing”—she made a gesture of dismissal with her hand— “to people around here. But I’m a damned good secretary.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“And”—she lurched forward a bit more—“Sandy Brashiers will ruin everything we worked for, I guarantee it. That man lives in a dream world, and he’s sneaky. Well, he may be temporary headmaster, but headmaster of what! No one was at school today.”
“You were.”
“That’s my job. Besides, no one is going to kill me—I’m too low on the totem pole.”
“If you know why Roscoe was killed, they might.”
“I don’t know.”
“If you did, would you tell me?”
A brief silence followed this question as a clap of thunder follows lightning.
Looking Cynthia square in the eye, April answered resolutely. “Yes. And I’ll tell you something else. Roscoe had something on Sandy Brashiers. He never told me what it was, but it helped him keep Sandy in line.”
“Any ideas—any ideas at all?”
“No.” She gulped air. “I wish I knew. I really do.”
43
Kendrick stared at Jody’s red BMW as she exploded. “No! I paid for it with Grandpa K’s money. He left the money to me, not you.”
“He left it to pay for college, and you promised to keep it in savings.” His face reddened.
Irene, attempting to defuse a full-scale blowup, stepped in. “We’re all tired. Let’s discuss this tomorrow.” She knew perfectly well this was not the time to bring up the much larger issue of Jody’s pregnancy.
“Stop protecting her,” Kendrick ordered.
“You know, Dad, we’re not employees. You can’t order us around.”
He slammed the side door of the kitchen, returning inside with the BMW keys in his hand. He dangled them under his daughter’s nose. “You’re not going anywhere.”
She shrugged since she’d stashed away the second set of keys.
Kendrick calmed down for a moment. “Did you pick the car up today?”
“Uh—”
“No, she’s had it for a few days.”
“Three days.”
Irene didn’t know how long Jody had had the car, but that was hardly a major worry. She’d become accustomed to her daughter’s lying to her. Other parents said their children did the same, especially in the adolescent years, but Irene still felt uneasy about it. Getting used to something didn’t mean one liked it.
“If you’ve had this car three days, where was it?”
“I lent it to a friend.”
“Don’t lie to me!” The veins stood out in Kendrick’s neck.
“Isn’t it a little late to try and be a dad now?” she mumbled.
He backhanded her across the face hard. Tears sprang into her eyes. “The car goes back!”
“No way.”
He hit her again.
“Kendrick, please!”
“Stay out of this.”
“She’s my daughter, too. She’s made a foolish purchase, but that’s how we learn, by making foolish mistakes,” Irene pleaded.
“Where did you hide the car?” Kendrick bellowed.
“You can beat me to a pulp. I’ll never tell you.”
He raised his hand again. Irene hung on to it as Jody ducked. He threw his wife onto the floor.
“Go to your room.”
Jody instantly scurried to her room.
Kendrick checked his watch. “It’s too late to take the car back now. You can follow me over tomorrow.”
Irene scrambled to her feet. “She’ll lose a lot of money, won’t she?”
“Twenty-one percent.” He turned from Irene’s slightly bedraggled form to walk into the kitchen, where he turned on the television to watch CNN.
He forgot or didn’t care that Jody had a telephone in her room, which she used the second she shut her door.
“Hello, is Sean there?”