All Hallows Evil by Valerie Wolzien

Author:Valerie Wolzien [Wolzien, Valerie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2019-10-24T22:00:00+00:00

EIGHT

Susan could have returned to the library and tried to speak with Marion Marshall. She should have gone to the grocery store and shopped for dinner. Instead she drove home, walked through her front door into her living room and, ignoring the irritated stares of those working there, she insisted upon speaking to Rebecca Armstrong. Immediately. And privately.

“That’s an excellent idea. Just let me dash upstairs and change, then we can talk,” Rebecca agreed, rising to her feet.

Susan was so surprised at this response that she didn’t question the other woman’s apparent need to dress for the interview. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” she called up the stairs after her guest, and hurried from the room before anyone suggested that she turn on the Mr. Coffee. She had expected to find her kitchen a mess, but, although a quick look revealed empty coffee canisters and a dishwasher full of mugs, cups, and saucers, every counter had been wiped clean and everything else put in its place. Susan was wondering what a glance in her freezer might suggest for dinner when Rebecca reappeared.

“We got takeout from the deli for lunch, and I told everyone to make sure this place was cleaned,” she said, pulling her hair back and tucking it into a terry headband. “I know we’re imposing, but we don’t have to trash your home. I’m afraid our standards get to be pretty low when we’re traveling. Why, I’ve edited pieces on the destruction of the environment in a three-by-five-foot room holding two people and over fifty half-full, gummy, cigarette- and coffee-crusted Styrofoam cups.” She was heading for the door to the garage as she spoke. “What’s the matter? Did you forget something?” she turned and asked when it became apparent that Susan wasn’t following her.

“I …” Susan realized that Rebecca had changed into shorts and a T-shirt. There were running shoes on her feet.

“I don’t think I’ll need sweatpants. I usually run in shorts until it’s well below freezing,” Rebecca continued, apparently not recognizing Susan’s confusion. “We are going to the track, aren’t we?” she added impatiently, holding the door for her hostess.

Susan ignored her right knee as it gave a warning throb of pain. “Sure, I … I just wanted to get some tissues,” she added, yanking at a box in the corner of a cabinet.

“Good idea. I noticed yesterday that the cold weather was making your nose run.”

Susan smiled and followed Rebecca to her car. But Rebecca apparently had no intention of driving. “My car is fairly recognizable. I thought maybe we could take yours?”

Susan reminded herself that Rebecca could hardly have known that her husband was going to be murdered when she selected such distinctive vanity plates. Together they walked to Susan’s Maserati. She would drive slowly; it would give them a chance to talk.

“Did you hear that the first man murdered yesterday—the man found in the library—worked at your network?” She wasted no time before getting to the subject. “In the public relations department,” she added when Rebecca didn’t answer.

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