Meadowlark by Sheila Simonson

Author:Sheila Simonson [Simonson, Sheila]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Tilth, Murder, Women Sleuths
ISBN: 9781601741653
Publisher: Uncial Press
Published: 2013-08-16T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

The memorial service for Hugo was scheduled for Friday evening. I woke on that thought after a restless sleep troubled by nightmares.

Dale had come over after dinner Thursday night looking exhausted. Mary's body was not in the dumpster, nor did the Astoria police find other signs of her there, and there was no evidence of a struggle in the car, which was locked. Dale had spent the day interviewing her family, the interns, and the farm staff, without result.

"They're lying!" he burst out when he finished his second cup of coffee.

Jay yawned. He'd had only two hours of sleep the night before, but he had finished marking the reports. "Of course they're lying. Crime suspects always have irrelevant secrets to protect, and that farm is bound to be full of secrets. It's an unnatural set-up."

"Unnatural!" I scowled at him.

Jay said patiently, "People who work together don't usually have to live together, too. If I had to live in the same place as the Dean I'd wind up strangling him."

I contemplated living in the same household as Bianca.

Dale sighed. "Somebody's guilty as sin."

Carol. I had not yet reached Carol. I opened my mouth to mention her call then thought better of the idea. Carol had called me, not Dale and not Jay. Maybe she wasn't going to confess to murder. Maybe she just wanted to know whether I had the latest Danielle Steele in stock.

Jay was rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I don't like this business of Mary Sadat. She must have seen something." He dropped his hands. "And probably not at the farm. She was supposed to be in Kayport working at the restaurant when Groth was killed. Did you verify that?"

Dale's mouth tightened. "I asked her folks. She waited tables."

"What time does the place open?"

"It's popular for lunch as well as dinner. I assumed..." Dale yanked out his notebook, reached for the phone, and dialed. A voice responded, and he asked what the restaurant's Sunday hours were. "Thanks." He hung up slowly. "It doesn't open until four-thirty on Sundays."

Jay whistled.

"Yeah. Lots of time." Dale slammed his hands on the table. The mugs jiggled. "She was lying to me. I just asked her parents if she worked that Sunday, and they said yes, but I damned well did ask Mary Sadat what time she went to work. She lied." He rose, energized. "I'm off. Thanks for the coffee, Lark."

"Don't mention it."

Jay said, "Look at all the times, Dale. She wasn't necessarily out with another student."

Dale nodded. "I'll look, but I want a crack at those interns tomorrow. Did I tell you they were lying?" He left with a bang of the back door.

I got up and gathered the mugs. "Maybe Mary lied to her parents, too."

I caught Jay in mid-yawn. He blinked at me.

I was chasing a small idea. "Her brothers came to confront the Dean?"

"Yes. Two of them."

"Sounds like a traditional family."

"So?"

"Women in traditional Middle Eastern families are traditionally deceptive. They have to be if they want any kind of independence.

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