Chapter 30 #3
“That’s not right,” I said, putting four of the pills back into the bottle.
“I think I’ve had maybe three since I’ve been here, and hardly more than that while I was at Mimi’s.
” I looked at Mardi, whose eyes were as alert as ever.
“Sarah—did you pick up all the pills after I knocked over the bottle? I don’t want Mardi to eat any. ”
“I didn’t see any,” Sarah insisted. “I even got down on my hands and knees to be at Mardi’s level to make sure there weren’t any on the floor. And I vacuumed before Jolene got here, so if I missed any, they’d be in the vacuum bag.”
I sat back, relieved. “Thank goodness.” Sensing my need for reassurance, Mardi came to stand next to the couch, within petting distance, and I accommodated him with a scratch behind one floppy ear.
Jolene handed me a water bottle she’d pulled from her bag. “Here. Take your pill and wash it down with this. You’ll feel better soon.”
I did as instructed, then rested my head against the pillow, willing the medicine to work quickly.
“You should be taking them as prescribed,” Beau said. “It’s important that you get ahead of the pain so—”
My phone rang, preempting the response that was burning on my tongue.
I didn’t recognize the number, though it had the local 504 area code.
I had a fifty-fifty chance of it being a call from someone I actually wanted to talk to rather than a sales call.
But if I answered, I wouldn’t have to talk to Beau.
“Hello?” I deepened my voice so that if it was a sales call I could pretend they had the wrong number. Being able to avoid sales calls was the main advantage of having a lifelong nickname.
“This is Joan Wenzel. Am I speaking with Nola Trenholm?”
“Hello, Mrs. Wenzel. This is Nola.”
“I’m sorry. It didn’t sound like you when you answered.”
“I think I might be getting a cold,” I said, to avoid explaining. “Did you have a chance to speak with Honey?” I put the phone on speaker.
“I did. I’m thrilled that Zeus came out of his shell, but he hasn’t said anything since I’ve been home, so who knows if he’s cured?”
“Do you have any idea what he meant by ‘the key’?”
“I have no idea. The only key in the house that I was aware was missing was the one from the armoire, but you found that.”
“And he hasn’t said anything else?”
I heard her heavy sigh. “No. I just told you. He hasn’t said anything in our hearing since he spoke while you were here. I’ll be happy to let you know if he does.”
“Thank you. What about the wig?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to add, sadly.
Sybil was quite proud of her silver hair, and she most definitely would never have worn a wig.
And Jessica and Lynda certainly didn’t—Lynda because she was just a little girl, and Jessica just wasn’t the fussy type with her looks.
All-natural and never wore makeup or heels.
My guess is that the wig hair could be very old—perhaps dating back to my grandparents and my numerous aunts and uncles.
I don’t know of any deaths in the house prior to Sybil’s murder, except for poor Uncle Patrick falling down the stairs. ”
“Wait—I thought he died from influenza.”
“No. Although I suppose technically you could say that. He was sick when he fell down the stairs and died. I’m sure it played a part.”
“That’s horrible,” I said.
“It is. A child dying from anything is horrible. And that leads us to the bloodstains under the rug. They could be from an accident—you know how children are—and not anything nefarious at all. The police haven’t come up with anything?”
“No. Not yet. It’s a cold case, so it’s not a priority, but at least it’s brought their attention back to your stepbrother and his family’s disappearance. I hope you and your family can get some closure.”
There was a short pause. “I do agree, but I’ve also begun to think that maybe we should just let it go. Honey and I aren’t getting any younger, and this entire incident keeps us in the past. I want us to only be looking forward as we enter our golden years. I believe Sybil would understand.”
I frowned at my phone, wondering at her change of heart.
Maybe it was all about growing older and moving on.
Maybe. “Of course. Although, as representatives of the new owner of the house, we need to do our due diligence and make a full disclosure when we sell it. Which means I need to see if I can find anything else.”
“That’s perfectly reasonable,” Joan said. “Please let us know if you discover anything new.”
“Of course. And likewise.” I was about to hang up when I remembered something else Honey was supposed to ask her about. “One more thing. Do you know anyone who owns a gray Honda sedan with South Carolina plates? I think it’s a recent model.”
“I don’t. It’s most likely someone looking to buy the house on Esplanade. It’s off the market, but if they have an out-of-date listing, they wouldn’t know that, would they?”
“No,” I said slowly. “But that wouldn’t explain why the car was in front of your house.”
There was an extended pause. “Well, you know, with the Internet these days you can find all sorts of personal information, such as who owns a particular house.” There was a brief silence, and I pictured her shrugging her thin shoulders.
“Perhaps they were hoping to make a private offer but changed their minds. Or, you know, Nola, it could just be a coincidence.”
I looked up as she said that last word, my gaze immediately meeting Beau’s.
“Yes, well, I promise to keep looking. I am so very sorry I couldn’t be of more help. I’ll be in touch if Honey or I—or, for that matter, Zeus—comes up with anything to add.”
“Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” I ended the call, my eyes still locked on Beau.
“There’s no such thing—” he began.
I held up my hand. “I know. There’s something I’m not seeing here. And if I had to guess, I would say that Joan Wenzel would be more than happy to keep me in the dark.”