Wined and Died by McRae Cricket

Author:McRae, Cricket [McRae, Cricket]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, fiction, cuisine, crafting, murder, cozy, amateur sleuth novel, amateur sleuth, food, mystery novels, craft, murder mystery, wine
ISBN: 9780738723341
Publisher: Chivers
Published: 2011-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

Painted sage green, Willa’s house sat well back from Third Street. The lawn was precisely cut, the boxwood hedge freshly trimmed, the peach azaleas under the front windows bursting with color. The same white Passat wagon I’d parked next to at Grendel Meadery was parked in front. Leaning on her crutches, Willa opened the door when I was halfway up the sidewalk.

“Come on in.”

“My husband knows I’m here.”

She blinked, and the corners of her mouth turned up. “All right.”

So what if I sounded paranoid. I didn’t care. This woman could be a killer.

The front door opened directly into a small living room. Framed, black-and-white photographs of nature along with several pictures of Willa with another woman interrupted the cream walls. At least a dozen houseplants hung from the ceiling, reached up from large pots in the corners, or flourished on shelves among brightly colored book jackets. Vivid rag rugs were scattered seemingly at random across the floor planks. The wooden blinds were open but not pulled up, discouraging the dull daylight outside from entering. Instead, bright yellow light from two floor lamps illuminated the tableau.

Victoria perched on the chunky, rust-colored sofa, a cup and saucer next to an African violet on the glass table in front of her. Glenwood leaned against the cushions next to her, looking bored. And surprise, surprise: Dorothy Swenson sat across from them, Cabot beside her on a folding chair.

I had been invited to a Swenson family meeting.

“Hi,” I said.

“Come in,” Dorothy demanded.

Dishes clattered beyond the doorway set in the far wall, behind Dorothy. With a pang I wondered whether Normal was in attendance—and what Barr would have to say if he were.

Though frankly, I was way more worried about Jakie than Normal.

“We’re having chamomile tea,” Victoria said. “Would you like some?” Her puffy, red-rimmed eyes betrayed the grief her genteel words glossed over.

“No, thanks.” I shrugged out of my windbreaker.

Willa took it from me and hung it on the heavily laden coat rack by the door. “Sit down, please.” She gestured toward a pair of leather wingback chairs.

I dumped my tote bag under the coats and chose the empty chair nearest the door. The room felt small and stuffy with six people and a wheelchair in it. An open window would have done wonders.

A short woman with ginger-orange hair curled around her ears appeared in the doorway behind Dorothy. I recognized her from the photos on the walls. “I have to get to work now, at least for a little while. I’ll be back as soon as I can get away.”

Willa nodded. “Okay.” The one word held a tremendous amount of weariness.

We heard the back door open and close as her girlfriend left the house.

Willa awkwardly sank into the other leather wingback and laid her crutches on the floor. She turned to me. “We’d like to know what those psychotherapist’s notes said. Do you have a copy?”

On my walk over I’d thought about what to tell the Swensons about Elizabeth’s notes, trying to figure out what Barr would do.

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