13
Julia, Courtney, Mona, and Susan pulled up in front of the house, noisy with chatter about the murder weapon. They parked behind an old white van that read SHERMAN’S HOME SERVICES, and their mood changed instantly, their yakking subsiding.
“That’s the rug guy.” Courtney cut the ignition, turning to Julia. “We called him while you were outside.”
“Good.” Julia wanted to spare Courtney the heartbreaking task. “How about you go in the kitchen while I take him into the living room?”
Courtney nodded, grateful. “Thanks, I want to call Detective Kowalski.”
Susan nodded. “I’ll do some research on ghost guns.”
Mona chimed in, “I’ll help Julia. We’ll put everything back the way it was.”
Courtney winced, an expression that said nothing was going to be back the way it was, ever again.
Julia and Mona stood silently by while Sherman rolled up the bloodied rug, wrapped it in a blue plastic tarp, and dragged it to his van. The blood had stained the floorboards, but Sherman replaced them with new floorboards that almost matched.
After he’d left, Mona nodded. “Let’s whip this place into shape.”
“I’ll get the heavy stuff.” Julia righted the end table.
“It’s hard to imagine that we’re cleaning up after a murder.” Mona brushed ceramic shards of the broken lamp into the old-fashioned metal dustpan.
“It sure is.” Julia hadn’t had to clean up after Mike’s murder, which had taken place on a Philly streetcorner.
She never walked anywhere near that corner again, and a neighbor told her that nobody from the city ever washed the sidewalk.
The rain had done the job, rinsing the last of her husband away.
“In one way, it feels mundane, but it’s… I don’t know.”
“Horrifying?”
“Yes.” Mona swept the last of the shards, then arched her back with a grunt, and Julia put the cushions back on the couch.
“I can take it from here, if you want.”
“No, I’m fine. My back gives me trouble. Chair yoga helps.”
“I bet.” Julia felt a guilty pang. “I’m sorry I cut you out of going with us. I don’t want you to think I’m ageist.”
“You are,” Mona shot back, without rancor.
“Everybody is.” She blinked her large brown eyes, with slightly milky edges behind her glasses.
“I never used to matter much, but I never mattered this little. Except to Susan and Kay. We matter to each other. We see each other. But nobody else does.” Mona set down the brush and dustpan.
“Mark my words, it will happen to you, too.” She crossed to the entertainment center and started reshelving books.
“People forget you have talents, and views. Thoughts. Beliefs. A lifetime they don’t even know about.
Sometimes they don’t even see you at all.
It’s like they’re looking through you. Like you’re a ghost.”
“I’m sorry,” Julia said, meaning it.
“Don’t be, it’s a fact of life. JFK said life isn’t fair. He was right.” Mona lined up the books. “History is fascinating, but the way I learned it in school, memorizing dates and everything, this treaty and that pact, was boring. I tried to teach it differently.”
“I didn’t know you taught, too.”
“Yes, that’s how I met Susan, and she met Kay at the gardening center, and we three became friends.” Mona smiled briefly at the memory. “People ignore history. That’s why they ignore old people. We’re walking, talking history.” She stopped at an empty spot on the shelf. “This is strange.”
“What is?”
“Kay used to keep her basket here, but it’s gone.”
“What basket?”
“Kay volunteered at the clean-ups, you know. She used to find interesting things, like arrowheads or pieces of old plates. She called them her found objects. She kept them in a basket, right here.” Mona turned to Julia, her expression mystified.
“The basket should be here. I know, I’ve been in this room a million times. ”
It struck Julia that a clue could be the absence of something, as well as its presence. “Maybe she threw it away?”
“No, she’d never do that.”
“Do you think she moved it?”
“Why? Where? It’s been on the shelf forever.” Mona’s hooded eyes flared suddenly. “You know, I just remembered something. She told me she found something at the last clean-up.”
“She did? What was it?”
“She didn’t say.”
“When was that?”
“Sunday. The day before she was murdered.”
Julia’s mouth went dry. “Did you ask her what she found?”
“No, she just said she wanted to show it to us.” Mona set her jaw. “This seems significant, doesn’t it?”
“It might be.”
Mona turned to the kitchen. “Let’s go tell the others.”