Digging Up Family Dirt

At Ben’s invitation, Janelle accompanies him to Aunt Ida’s house for dinner.

Chapter Thirty-nine

“You didn’t tell me your uncle Elliot was going to be here,” Janelle whispered to Ben as she stepped through the front door of Ida Thorne’s house.

Through the archway that led into the living room, Janelle saw Elliot sitting on a wingback chair. An open newspaper hid all of him except his hands, his brown trousers, and the top of his dark hair. And his shoes.

She would recognize those expensive Italian loafers anywhere.

Ben closed the front door. “Does it make any difference if he’s here?”

Janelle shrugged. As long as he didn’t call her babe.

She walked with Ben into Ida’s living room. Faded wallpaper of gray and blue stripes seemed to be a good backdrop for the faded furniture. Strands of cat hair crisscrossed the threadbare carpet, and several fur balls lined the baseboards. A dingy fireplace was set in one wall of the small room, with two black and white photos perched on the mantle. Behind Elliot’s chair, another archway led into the dining room.

“That you, Ben?” Elliot said from behind the paper. “I decided to join you and Ida for dinner tonight.”

“Yep, it’s me, and I brought a guest.” Ben smiled at Janelle.

The paper lowered with a crinkle. “Oh.” Elliot’s handsome face registered surprise before he smiled. “Well, hello there—Janelle.”

She tried to keep a straight face. “Hi.” Either her kidnapping had cooled his ardor, or the fact that her dad was a private investigator came in handy. 

For once.

Ida, wearing a short-sleeved housedress that sported garish red poppies, walked out from the kitchen doorway. She carried a roasting pan, and two cats followed her. Janelle had only seen Ida with a hat on, but now her hatless gray hair was combed down and curled under at her neck. Her face was rosy as she hefted the pan to the middle of the small table that had three place settings. The flab under her arms jiggled.

A nice little old lady. Too bad she was losing her mind.

Ben took a step toward the dining room. “Need some help, Aunt Ida?”

She looked up, her gaze taking in Ben and Janelle. “Oh, Nellie! How nice to see you again. I’ll have to set another place.” She bustled back to the kitchen.

Ben glanced at Janelle. “Nellie.”

“I’m surprised she remembered. Your aunt certainly couldn’t remember my name when I was here the last time.”

Within five minutes Janelle was seated at the table across from Ben. Aunt Ida sat on her left and Elliot on her right. She was glad she didn’t have to look at Elliot while she ate. Fortunately he didn’t call her babe one time. He seemed to have forgotten all about his promise to make her the happiest little woman in the world.

As soon as they started eating, five cats appeared, begging for roast beef. One of them brushed up against Janelle’s ankle. Ida fed them all as she murmured endearing phrases.

“For crying out loud, Ida.” Elliot eyed her sternly. “Get rid of those cats! Do you know how unsanitary it is to feed animals at the table?”

Ida pursed her lips. “Well, if you insist. I’ll lock them in the basement.” She stood. “Come, Fluffy. Mama will give you some food.”

The cats followed her en masse as she exited the room.

         Janelle looked at Ben. “Which one is Fluffy?”

         “All five of them.” Ben grinned. “They all have the same name so Aunt Ida doesn’t have to remember which cat is which.”

When Ida came back, the atmosphere took a pleasant turn with small talk about the weather. As they finished the delicious dinner of roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, and scalloped corn, Janelle managed to steer the conversation to Jed’s murder. Elliot brought up his theory that Lyssa had killed her ex-husband.

“No, not Lyssa.” Aunt Ida stuck her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “She was always such a sweet girl. I remember when you first brought her home from college to meet your parents, Elliot.”

Ben stared at Elliot. “You were dating her, Uncle?”

Elliot ignored him. “Well, maybe Lyssa didn’t kill Jed, but I know it was a woman. After all, what man would strangle another man with a bra, for pity’s sake?”

Janelle thought of the missing bra in Helga’s office. Maybe it was the only thing available.

Ida concentrated on Ben. “Yes, Elliot was dating your mother. He brought her home one weekend near Christmas to meet the folks.”

“Ida, would you forgot that?” Elliot pushed his plate out of the way and folded his arms on the table. “Good grief! You can forget everything else, why can’t you forget that I was dating Lyssa Palmer before she married Jed?”

“I didn’t realize that.” Ben looked at Elliot. “Mom told me she met Dad at a Christmas party at the store. She never said a thing about you, Uncle.”

“That figures.” Elliot blew out a breath.

“I remember that party,” Ida put in. “Those were the heyday years for Thorne’s. There were so many people—”

“Yeah, but your mom didn’t get it quite right.” The color in Elliot’s face deepened. “Actually Jed met her at Rosewood Manor a couple days before the party. We had a family dinner, and I introduced Lyssa to everyone—Mother, Father, Frank and Ida, and Jed. Evidently he decided right then he was going to marry Lyssa, and at the party he stole her—stole my girl right out of my arms.”

“But…” Janelle looked between Ben and Elliot. “She must have gone willingly. I mean, she wasn’t forced to marry Jed, was she?”

“Oh, she went willingly all right.” Elliot scowled. “I was just a college kid, and Jed was twelve years older than me—a man of the world, the mature bachelor with a real job, making good money. She was infatuated with him­­.”

“And he was infatuated with Lyssa,” Ida said.

“Do you know why?” Elliot pointed at Ida then looked at Janelle. “Here’s some of that dirt in our family history.”

Ben’s face paled, but he kept a steady eye on his uncle.

“Jed was captivated with Lyssa because she looked like Helga Svensson.” Elliot turned to Ben. “Did you ever notice how much your mom resembles Helga? They could be sisters.”

Ben looked thoughtful. “Only in the fact they’re both blonde and blue-eyed. Besides, Helga’s a lot older—”

“I always thought Lyssa was prettier than Helga, but Jed was absolutely obsessed with Helga from the first day he saw her. He must have asked that woman to marry him four or five times, but she just snubbed him.”

Ben pressed his lips together. He glanced at Janelle, and she knew he was thinking about all those ads locked in Jed’s filing cabinet. That was one mystery solved.

Elliot continued. “Even after he married Lyssa, Jed was still obsessed with Helga. She modeled for the company about ten years, and when she started losing her figure, Jed talked Father into making her the bookkeeper.”

Ida stood to collect the dishes. “Frank said she was a good bookkeeper.”

“Yeah, it worked out.” Elliot rubbed his temples. “But Jed didn’t want her to leave the company.” He shrugged. “I don’t know why—she couldn’t stand him.”

Ida picked up a plate. “Maybe that’s why she killed him.”

Janelle looked up at her. “You think Helga did it?”

“Ida, you are crazy.” Elliot raised his hands then let them drop to the table. “You don’t know any of the facts about Jed’s murder. Helga didn’t kill him.”

Four plates were stacked in Ida’s hands as she looked at Elliot. “Well, I just thought if she hated him, she must have—”

“Everyone hated him. You know it’s true. We all hated him. But just because you hate someone doesn’t mean you’re going to murder him.”

Pursing her lips, Ida turned and walked into the kitchen.

“Aunt Ida’s mind seems good tonight.” Ben kept his voice low.

“She’s crazy!” Elliot stood and entered the living room.

Janelle laid Ben’s empty salad plate on top of hers, then picked up Elliot’s. “That’s a characteristic of Alzheimer’s, Ben. People can remember things that happened a long time ago, but not recent events.”

“She remembered your name…Nellie.” He grinned at her.

“Don’t call me that.” But she smiled. Ben needed to think of something other than the problems in his family history, and she didn’t mind if he thought about her.

* * *

The dinner continues, but tomorrow is New Year’s Day! We’ll take another break until Wednesday. God bless!

Howard's Dilemma

Chapter Thirty-eight

“No, no, no!” Howard held a framed photo in his hands as blood dripped from his finger. “My favorite picture fell off the desk, and the glass is in fragments.”

         Alarmed, Janelle snatched a tissue from the box on the desk and pressed it to his finger. “Howard, you need to stop this blood flowing.”

         Ben pulled the frame from his grasp. “Yeah. Take care of that cut first.”

         With a moan, Howard pressed one hand with the other. “The glass is in shards and the picture is ruined. Ruined, I tell you!” He fell into his chair, pulled open the top desk drawer, and lifted a box of Band-aids.

         Janelle took a moment to glance around. She had never been in Howard’s office before. Large framed advertisements of Thorne’s Bra and Girdle Company covered the paneled walls. His desk was neat and clean, with not a stray piece of paper anywhere, although several large books had fallen to the floor beside the desk. Five picture frames sat on top.

What kind of pictures would Howard place on his desk? He wasn’t married, was he?

         “The photo is okay.” Ben set it down. “Get another glass for the frame and it will be fine.”

         Janelle inched around the desk and gazed at the picture. A fat yellow tomcat stared back at her.  “A cat?”

         “This is Piccadilly.” Pride touched Howard’s voice. “He’s my best friend, and this is my favorite picture of him. See how the light comes down behind him? And notice how he’s looking right at the camera with that cute impish grin of his.”

         Janelle raised an eyebrow before glancing at the other framed photos. They were all of Piccadilly—some when he was a kitten.

Baby pictures.

         Ben clapped Howard on the shoulder. “No harm done.”

“I’ll have to buy another frame tonight.” Howard glanced at his watch. “Oh, no! I’m going to miss my bus.” Grabbing a briefcase, he strode out of the office. 

          “See you tomorrow,” Ben called after him.

         They exited Howard’s office and Ben closed the door.

         “Poor guy.” Janelle shook her head. “If a cat is his best friend, he must be lonely.”

         “No, not Howard. He lives on the family homestead with two unmarried brothers and his oldest sister, Frieda. I met Frieda last year at the company Christmas party.” Ben gave a little laugh. “Strange woman—the female version of Howard. Two peas in a pod.”

         “I guess I can’t fault him for living at home. I still live with my dad.”

         “Hey, since your dad’s out of town, I guess you have no one to eat dinner with tonight.”

         She held her breath. Did he want to ask her out? “Uh, yeah. It gets kind of lonely when I have to eat by myself.”

         “Why don’t you come with me to Aunt Ida’s house? She’s making her famous pot roast.”

         Janelle’s lips parted. Aunt Ida’s house?

         Ben shrugged. “She’s a great cook.”

         “Oh, sure. I’d love to come.” She smiled. Better than nothing. At least she’d be able to spend the evening with Ben.

And Aunt Ida.  

* * *

Dead as a Girdle will continue on Monday. Until then, have a wonderful weekend, and God bless!

Going On...

Chapter Thirty-seven

At five o’clock on Monday afternoon, Ben opened his door and looked into the outer office. He was determined to leave on time tonight, especially since Aunt Ida had promised to make his favorite pot roast for dinner.

If she didn’t forget. 

Janelle sat at her desk, talking on the phone. Ben gazed at her a moment, thinking how pretty she was, remembering when he told her he cared for her.

What kind of sorry sentimentality was that? He had never let his emotions run away with him before.

She looked up at him, her green eyes gazing into his. Ben felt his insides turn to mush.

He hated mush.

“Ben?” She placed her hand over the receiver. “This is my dad. He wants to talk to you.”

Normally he would take the call in his office. Instead, he found himself walking to Janelle’s desk. She handed him the phone.

“Hello, Mr. Weaver?”

“Hey, Ben! I was just telling Nellie I hired on for a new case. It’s a missing person dilemma up in Canada. I’ll have to leave town for a few days. In fact, I’m calling from the St. Louis airport.”

“Oh?”

“But don’t worry, Ben. I’ll wrap up your case when I get back. The murderer will be behind bars before you know it.”

He swallowed. The murderer. “Thank you, sir.”

“It’s George, remember?” He chuckled. “See you later.”

Ben murmured a goodbye and handed the receiver to Janelle who hung up the phone. It gave him the willies to think that the person who had murdered his dad could be someone Ben saw every day. He hoped Mr. Weaver was right about catching him. Or her.

Janelle huffed out a sigh. “My dad still thinks—”

A loud crash came from Howard’s office.

She jumped. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.” Ben strode to Howard’s office.

Janelle followed. “I hope he’s okay. What if he had a heart attack, or something?”

Her question made Ben’s own heart constrict. After all, a murderer was on the loose. He slipped open the door. “Howard?” His eyes widened.

Behind him, Janelle gasped.

* * *

We’ll find out what happened to Howard tomorrow. Until then, have a great day!

Info from Howard

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas yesterday! Today we’re back in our story, Dead as a Girdle, where Janelle continues to gather clues.

Chapter Thirty-six

Later on Monday morning, as Janelle sat at her desk sorting the mail, Howard walked into the office. Today he wore a brown suit with that same bulky rectangular lump in his breast pocket.

“Hey there, Janelle.” His nasal voice was loud, as usual. A strong, moldy aroma emanated from a sandwich he held in one hand. “Did I get a call from Herbert Stoner while I was out?”

“Yes.” She glanced through the pink slips of telephone messages.  “Here it is.” She handed it to him. “Mr. Stoner called at ten-fifteen.”

“Oh, good.” Howard stood in front of her desk as he read the message. He took a bite of his sandwich and slowly chewed.

Janelle went back to the mail. It didn’t look like Howard would be moving anytime soon.

“I really like this Stoner fellow.” He gestured with his sandwich and the pungent odor wafted under Janelle’s nose. “Do you realize how much clout this guy has in the advertising world? He’s one of the marketing gurus of the U.S.”

Janelle waved her hand in front of her face at the overpowering smell. “Ugh, Howard! What’s in that sandwich?”

He opened it to show her. “Braunschweiger and Limburger cheese, with garlic powder and onions to spice it up.” He waggled his bushy eyebrows. “Want a bite?”

“No thanks! It smells disgusting.”

Howard stuffed a corner in his mouth, bit it off and spoke around it. “Braunschweiger is a great liver sausage. Did you know it’s German? And Limburger cheese—whoopee! Now we’re living in paradise.”

He was not only hard of hearing, he couldn’t smell. “I’ve never tried either.”

“Oh, you’ll have to. You would love—” A loud click from his breast pocket interrupted him.

Janelle glanced at his suit coat. “What was that?”

Howard set his sandwich on her desk and pulled a rectangular box from his pocket. “Tape recorder. Guess this side ran out.” He popped out a cassette tape, turned it over and pushed a button. Then he stuck the recorder back in his pocket.

Janelle looked at him. “You carry a tape recorder in your suit pocket? What are you recording?”

“Shhh.” Howard glanced around the office and lowered his voice. “It’s a safety measure. Just in case, you know.”

She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Howard huffed out a breath, immersing Janelle in a foul smell. She placed her fingers under her nose as she rolled her chair back.

“I was once wrongly accused and lost my job over it. Since then, I’ve recorded every conversation of my life.” His eyebrows formed a fat V in the middle of his forehead as he leaned toward her. “At last count, I have one thousand two hundred and sixteen tapes.”

“Wow.” Janelle almost gagged at his breath. “Did you record that argument you had with Jed the day he was—”

“Of course. Even turned my back on him at one point to flip the tape over.” He smirked. “That old skinflint never guessed I was recording our conversation.”

More clues! She needed to follow up. “I guess you and Jed, uh, didn’t get along very well.”

“Are you kidding? We hated each other. I’m glad the man is dead.”

Janelle raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, sure I hated him. Most everyone did. But don’t think I strangled him, Janelle.” Howard wagged a finger at her. “I would never take a person’s life, especially not with a bra.” He gave another smirk. “That is so symbolic it’s ridiculous. I wouldn’t be surprised if Helga came back to the office and did him in. After all, she was the one who ‘found’ him.” He formed the quotes in the air with his fingers.

         “So your tape recording came in handy.”

“Definitely. When I left the room, the recorder picked up the door slamming, and you could hear that deadbolt shoot into place.” His hands came together in one loud clap.

Janelle jumped.

“The sheriff took the tape. Probably saved me from getting arrested and going to court.” He picked up the sandwich and headed toward his office.

Janelle rolled her eyes. Howard was not just quirky—he was nuts.

* * *

Until tomorrow, God bless!

Christmas Day!

More Clues

A long chapter today, but this will tide you over for tomorrow, too, since it’s Christmas day and I won’t be posting then.

Chapter Thirty-five

At the fourth floor, Janelle stepped out of the elevator. She was thankful it worked now, but getting stuck in the elevator last week with Ben was a blessing. Otherwise, he might never have noticed her.

She walked to the door with the gold letters that read Thorne’s Bra and Girdle Company. Had it only been one week since she started working here? So much had happened. She realized she was wearing her lavender suit, the same one she had worn last Monday.

Maybe she should wear this suit every Monday. It would be her personal tradition. As she touched the doorknob, men’s laughter at the end of the hall floated toward her.

Someone was in Jed Thorne’s office.

She tiptoed down the hall. The door was ajar, and she peeked through the one-inch opening. Ben Thorne, wearing a suit and tie, stood in front of the massive desk with his hands on his hips, concentrating on what the other man was saying.

Janelle gave a wistful sigh. How could one guy be so dashingly handsome?

Ben said something and pointed toward the window. The men moved further into the room, out of Janelle’s line of vision. Who was the other man?

She would figure it out.

Ben had been looking down as the other man spoke. That meant he was shorter than Ben, with his eyes on the level of Ben’s chin.

Hmmm… Janelle tapped her lip. Elliot was the same height as Ben, and Howard was  taller. It couldn’t be either of them.

She stepped closer to the door and listened. The other man was speaking.

“I could wrap up this case in a week. Maybe three days.”

No! Janelle opened the door. “Dad! What are you doing here?”

Both men turned as she stepped into the room. Her dad wore his PI trench coat and stood with his feet apart, making him even shorter than usual. He held a notebook and pen in his hand.

Dad adjusted his glasses. “Going right to the source, Nellie. Sheriff Horton gave me all his notes on the case, and I’m tying up some loose ends for him.”

Janelle folded her arms. “And I suppose you’ve figured out who the murderer is, as well as his motive.”

“Actually, no. I still have some work to do.” Dad closed his notebook, turned to Ben and held out his hand. “Good to meet you.”

Ben shook his hand. “Thanks for your help, Mr. Weaver.”

“Call me George. If I have any more questions, I’ll give you a call.”  He smiled and left the room, passing Janelle on the way out. “You have nothing to worry about, Nellie. This case will be wrapped up in a couple days.”

She pressed her lips together as he strode toward the elevator. Mr. George Weaver would not steal this case from her.

Ben cleared his throat. “Your dad seems like a great guy. I hope he can figure it out.”

She sighed. “Dad rushes in where angels fear to tread.”

“I noticed that.” Ben perched on the edge of the desk, letting his right foot dangle. “Have you recovered from the kidnapping?”

“I think so.” There had to be another way out of this room.

“I saw the article in the paper.”

She nodded, glancing around. All the wooden panels had been pushed and pulled, and there was nothing behind the paintings.

“A few of the facts might have been fabricated.”

“Huh?” She focused her attention on Ben.

“The article, in the newspaper.” Ben’s blue eyes stared into hers. “Some of the facts seemed exaggerated.”

“Oh, that.” She gave a little laugh. “Especially the fact that I was bound and gagged, and the fact that I was given bread and water to eat.” She shook her head. “I would have been thankful for some bread and water, actually. I wonder where that reporter got his information. Dad refused to let me talk to him.”

“I didn’t talk to him either, but Elliot gave him some info.” Ben folded his arms. “The reporter also talked to a couple of deputies, as well as Vinson and Klein.”

“No wonder the facts are wrong.”

Ben nodded. “I’m glad those two are behind bars and I don’t have to pay them back. But I want to pay off Dad’s credit cards.” He stood. “I have his house up for sale. If it sells, that will take care of the debts. If not…” He shrugged. “The Lord will have to take care of it.”

“How much are you asking for his house?”

“A million dollars.”

Janelle’s lips parted. “A million? For a house?”

Ben smiled. It was that slow smile that made her heart melt. “Is that too much?”

He was too much. “Uh, well, I don’t know. It must be big.” Of course Jed Thorne would have a big, expensive home.

“It’s really worth about 2.8 million, but if I get a million out of it, I’ll be happy. My grandfather built the place on the outskirts of Greenvale in the early ’50s. He called it Rosewood Manor.”

“Oh, Rosewood Manor.”

Ben’s brows lifted. “You’ve heard of it?”

Another confession. “Remember when your aunt Ida talked to a girl named Nellie?”

He grinned. “So she told you about Rosewood Manor.” His smile faded. “What other information did she give you?”

Janelle thought back. “She and her husband, Frank, used to live at Rosewood, but then they bought the house on Poplar Road. Frank wanted her to grow roses.” She shook her head. “Ida seemed to have a one-track mind on that subject.”

“I know. She tells me about those roses all the time.”

“Oh, I remember something else.” Janelle pointed at Ben. “Ida got upset when I mentioned that your dad had been murdered, and then she confused his death with your grandfather’s death.”

Ben walked to the window and looked out. “Her mind is really going. Sometimes she seems so confused and other times she’s real lucid. I don’t know what to think about it.”

Janelle stood beside him and gazed down at the traffic on Main Street. “Sounds like a mental illness to me. I studied that in college. She could be getting Alzheimer’s.”

Ben glanced at her. “You think so?”

“Alzheimer’s has three phases—mild, moderate, and severe. Ida is in the mild stage right now.”

“I’d say moderate. You wouldn’t believe how Aunt Ida repeats herself at home.” He sighed. “Drives me crazy at times.”

Compassion filled Janelle. What if her dad lost his mind? It would be hard to live with someone like that.

Ben turned from the window. “The strange thing is, she was always so smart. She worked in a nursing home recording medical records and just retired about six months ago. So if she does have Alzheimer’s, it’s progressing quickly.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing you can keep an eye on her.”

“Yeah.” Ben breathed out a sigh. “But if I sell Rosewood Manor, I’m moving to an apartment. I can’t wait to get that old mansion out of the family.”

“Doesn’t Elliot want it?”

“Elliot couldn’t care less. He bought his own house about fifteen years ago.” Ben walked to the door. “We’d better get back to work, Janelle. I’m glad your dad is helping us find the murderer.”

Janelle followed him. “I’m not.”

Ben stopped and stared at her. “You don’t want your dad to help?”

“No, I don’t.” She folded her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “It might sound selfish, but this is my case, and I want to solve it.”

Ben grinned. He mimicked her by folding his arms and leaning against the opposite doorjamb. “That’s exactly what your dad told me you’d say.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You guys were talking about me?”

His smile faded. “I think he’s right, Janelle. You should give up the quest.”

“But—”

“Let your dad solve it.” The look in his eyes deepened.

For a moment, Janelle almost drowned in those blue pools. Then she realized he was telling her to quit. “I can’t give up, Ben. Look at all the time I’ve invested, all the clues I’ve gathered.” She looked at Jed’s desk, and the leather chair where he was found—dead.

“But it’s the same information Sheriff Horton gave your dad.” Ben reached out and gently pulled her chin up until their eyes met. “I would never forgive myself if something else happened to you. I—” He dropped his hand. “I really care for you.”

She gave a wistful sigh as she gazed into his eyes.

“Tell me you’ll stop, Janelle. If you continue investigating, you could put your life in danger.” 

She looked away. Danger. Exactly what Dad worried about. “But I can’t give up, just like that.” She had to solve this case, no matter what happened. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

He stared at her a moment before he shrugged. “We’d better get back to work.”

 

* * *

         Our story will continue on Wednesday. Have a wonderful Christmas tomorrow as you remember the birth of our Savior!

More Info

Chapter Thirty-four

On Monday morning, Janelle walked into Thorne’s Bra and Girdle Company. She passed Clara, the matronly cashier with the white hair, who was stacking bra boxes on a shelf.

         “Good morning, Clara.” Janelle pressed the up button on the elevator.

         “Oh, Janelle! I read about the kidnapping in the paper. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Her eyes looked like two blue buttons in her pale wrinkled face.

         “Thank you.” Janelle smiled and turned to the elevator. She had answered way too many questions at church yesterday.

         Clara inched up beside to her. “Those men were gamblers. You could have been hurt!”

         “The Lord took care of me. Thanks for being concerned, though.” That had become her stock answer at church.

         “Well, it just makes me nervous.” Clara glanced around as if she expected someone to jump out from behind one of the mannequins. “First, Mr. Thorne is murdered in his office, and then you’re kidnapped.” She wrung her hands together. “You never know who you can trust nowadays.”

         “Don’t worry. The worst is over, and I’m sure everything will get back to normal.”

         “But the sheriff can’t find the murderer. He could be lurking around the premises, ready to strike again, and we’d never know it.”

         Maybe Clara had information that would shed light on the case. “Do you remember anything unusual about that evening when Jed Thorne was murdered?”

         The thin white eyebrows shot up. “No, nothing unusual at all. Sheriff Horton asked me so many questions, but I couldn’t tell him much. I had the normal Friday night customers.”

         “All women, I suppose?”

         Clara smiled at that. “Yes, mostly women shop here. Although every once in a while a man will buy something for his wife, usually before Valentine’s Day.” She leaned closer. “And then there are the boys that come in with their girlfriends.” She clucked her tongue. “It’s just shameful. That’s what it is—shameful.”

         Janelle nodded, trying to keep a serious expression. “So you didn’t notice anyone who acted suspicious that evening?”

         The older woman shook her head. “I remember when Helga left the building around six o’clock, and also Mr. Thorne. Elliot, that is. Then, about eight o’clock, Howard Chapman left.” She frowned. “He looked angry and didn’t even notice when I bid him goodnight. That’s not like Howard at all.”

“What about your customers?”

“Since we close at nine, only a few people came in after that. Mrs. Murdock was here and one of the Howland twins, with her boyfriend.” Clara stopped to purse her lips. “Then there were three woman I don’t know, Ida Thorne—”

         “Ida was here?”
         “Oh, yes. Ida comes in quite often. She seldom buys anything, but she stays for a while and looks around.” Clara lowered her voice. “I think the poor thing is losing her mind.”

         The elevator door opened. “Thanks for the information, Clara.” Janelle stepped inside.

Poor Aunt Ida. She probably had nothing better to do on a Friday night.

* * *

Until Monday… May the Lord bless your weekend!