Purls and Poison by Anne Canadeo

Author:Anne Canadeo
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-08-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

“I’m surprised she agreed to see us. She probably doesn’t remember that we’re friends with Suzanne.” Lucy sat beside Maggie in the Subaru on Tuesday afternoon, as Maggie drove toward Peabody and Brookside Village, where Ruth Devereaux lived.

“I wondered about that, too. Even if she doesn’t watch the local news—and that’s a long shot—the police must be filling her in on their progress. But she didn’t mention Suzanne, and I didn’t either. At the memorial service, I asked if I could visit and she seemed pleased by the idea. When I called last night, she didn’t mind hearing a friend would come along, so . . . Oh, here we are. It’s closer than I thought.”

Maggie saw a sign, BROOKSIDE VILLAGE—AN ASSISTED LIVING COMMUNITY, and turned into the entrance. She slowed the car as they approached a security booth. The guard asked whom they were visiting, a gate was raised, and they drove on.

“This isn’t a bad place,” she said, glancing around.

“Not at all. Though all the ‘brooks’ look carefully planned and constructed.”

Maggie smiled. “That’s a given. I did expect something more stark and austere. Even with the name Brookside.”

The architecture was acceptable; two- and three-story apartment buildings surrounded by pleasant landscaping, fountains, and gazebos. Bridges connected some of the structures. So that the occupants could still get around in the winter without braving the cold weather, she guessed. The roads had picturesque names, like Willow Walk and Canterbury Court.

“It’s not so bad. I mean, when one is ready,” she added quickly.

Lucy glanced at her. “Don’t worry, I know you’re not ready for assisted anything. You can barely tolerate an assistant in the shop.”

“Assistant manager, now,” she replied, reminding Lucy of Phoebe’s promotion. “But thanks for the compliment. I know I’m getting older but I still do everything I’ve always done. Just a little slower,” she admitted with a laugh.

Maggie hated talking about her age and getting older, being of the mind that if she didn’t pay much attention to it, the years wouldn’t catch up with her. Even though she saw the signs very clearly among her contemporaries. Lately, she had to admit the years were passing faster and faster; though her life was as active and full as ever, she often felt a little scared of what was to come.

Now, just when she’d expected to make a big, important move in her relationship with Charles, their romance had run out of steam.

As if reading her mind, Lucy said, “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Suzanne, but how are things with Charles? I know he doesn’t want you involved in any police business—no less, a case he’s working on.”

Maggie saw a sign for Ruth’s courtyard and turned into the parking lot. “We had words. I’m sure he thinks she’s innocent. But he just can’t admit it. Not even to me. He got all officious, spouting things about police policy and procedure. And his professional ethics.”

Maggie stopped. She felt upset just recalling it.

Lucy looked concerned. “You had an argument?”

“I guess you’d call it that.

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