A KILLER AMONG US #SYTYCW15(Intrigue)

A KILLER AMONG US CHAPTER TWO (Part 3)

When she'd first arrived in Pine Tree, she'd made a point of learning the location of the station house, the local convenience store and her own house, as well as the two major opposing arteries Main and South Main Streets. As long as could find them, she'd be able to find her way home. Even though she had a radio, she'd tucked a local map in her glove compartment and a trucker's Rand McNally Atlas under the front seat, just to be safe. Truth was, she didn't trust GPS. She'd gotten wrong information too many times in the past.

'Turn left now', left being the median.

She waited impatiently for the light to turn green at the intersection of Main and South Main Streets, thinking about Mrs. Charbeau who no doubt was anxiously awaiting for some word about her friend. The light changed and turning left onto Main, she drove past her own little rented bungalow to the stop sign three blocks down.

Plantation Drive formed a T with Main Street and she hooked a left, cruising slowly as she peered at the mailboxes standing sentry at the end of each paved driveway. Mrs. Charbeau's house was the fourth on the right. She wheeled into the driveway, pulling up to the closed garage. The house was a replica of an ante-bellum plantation, set back from the road, complete with a columned wraparound porch, sweeping willow trees and landscaped flower beds filled with a kaleidoscope of colorful blooms and vibrant green ferns.

Mrs. Charbeau met her at the door. "You must be Officer Daniels. Please come in." Smiling politely, she pushed open the screen door and stepped back. "Oh! There's two of you."

Colby looked back. Tom was getting out of his car so she held the door for him. Taking it, he followed her inside where Mrs. Charbeau indicated the living room. The interior of the house was reminiscent of Mrs. Bernstein's, but where her friend preferred darker colors, Mrs. Charbeau opted for bright and airy. White brocade settee and matching wing chairs, polished mahogany end tables and vivid stained glass lamps furnished her formal parlor. White lace curtains criss-crossed the wide bay window where a half-dozen healthy green spider plants nestled together on the window seat. Their variegated cousins hung from pots suspended from the top of the window frame.

Mrs. Charbeau settled in the wing chair farthest from the door. Colby took the nearest one, the two separated by a round end table covered with a white crocheted doily, topped with a small stained-glass lamp, its dome depicting clusters of ruby grapes. Tom remained standing and slid his eyes in Colby's direction, giving her the faintest nod.

Colby cleared her throat. "Mrs. Charbeau, I'm afraid we have some bad news for you."

"I thought as much. I heard the sirens."

Of course she heard the sirens, everybody heard the sirens. She should have realized that Mrs. Charbeau would have figured out something was wrong. Or maybe one of Mrs.Bernstein's neighbors called with the sad news.

"Ida's dead, isn't she?"

Mrs. Charbeau seemed calm and demure but her directness caught Colby off guard. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"Was it her heart?"

Colby deferred to Tom.

"It appears she was the victim of a homicide."

"Murdered!" The older woman's resolved faltered and she sank back in her chair, her already pale face blanching further.

"Can I get you something? A drink of water?" Colby asked.

"Please. There's a pitcher in the refrigerator." She pointed a gnarled finger towards an open dining room to the left. "I hope she didn't suffer."