didn't see her traitorous self anywhere. I'd known something was off about this job. Dammit. When was I going to listen to my instincts? "No."
"She live here?"
"I guess not," I said, unable to completely cover my sarcasm.
"Did you have the homeowner's permission to work this land?"
"Apparently not." I eyed my fingernails, in need of biting one, but they were just too dirty. I crossed my arms instead.
Davis whistled low.
Just then a woman came waddling quickly up the hill, her face flushed with exertion. She was older, maybe midsixties, with an old-fashioned beehive hairdo. She wore an old housecoat with faux pearl buttons. "Russell!" she cried when she spotted the sheet-covered body on the ground.
"Greta!" Kate Hathaway rushed over to her, put an arm around the woman's broad shoulders.
Davis said, "I'll be right back."
So this was Greta. Not a dog after all. I looked around for Lindsey Lockhart, thinking there might be two deaths today.
I moseyed over to stand with the guys while the police and the homeowners' association welcome wagon filled Mrs. Grabinsky in.
I recalled what one of the passersby had said about her wanting to kill her husband and wondered why people would think so. Had their marriage been bad? Had he been abusive? Was she glad he was gone?
She certainly wasn't acting glad. Tears flowed.
Crocodile tears?
"No, no, no!" she cried as one of the paramedics asked her which mortuary to call. "I want an autopsy done!"
Why? I wondered.
"Why?" the paramedic asked, bless him.
"Because I want to know why he died. My Russell was a healthy man. This just does not happen to healthy men!"
"You know that's not true, Greta," a voice from behind me said.
Lindsey. When had she shown up? Had she been hiding nearby all along? I glared at her, but she wouldn't look at me, so I supposed it had little effect.
"What's not true?" Davis asked, stepping into the conversation.
Lindsey clasped her hands together. "Russell wasn't that healthy."
Mrs. Grabinsky's eyes narrowed.
"You know he wasn't, Greta. He was taking high blood pressure medication. You told me so yourself."
Russ Grabinsky. Ebenezer! Of course. That's where I'd heard the name. Yesterday at the hospital. Russ Grabinsky was the Growl co-owner Riley despised.
Greta put her meaty hands on her meatier hips. "Nothing that would cause this!"
"Actually," the paramedic said, "high blood pressure could cause a heart infarction."
The vicious glare turned to him. He looked at Davis.
"If there's any suspicion at all, an autopsy must be done."
The paramedic looked like he wanted to argue, but said, "We'll transport the body to the coroner's office, then."
Davis nodded, jotted something in his notebook.
Everyone watched silently as Russ Grabinsky was loaded onto a gurney, the white sheet still covering him, and rolled down the hill into a waiting van.
Wild-eyed, Greta backed away from us, her hands shaking. She pointed to Lindsey. "This is your fault! You had no right, not at all, to do this."
Lindsey pleaded, "Greta, be reasonable. I was trying to help you."
"Help? Ha! By sending my husband to an early grave?"
"Greta—"
"You'll be hearing from my lawyer!" Greta cried.
Hmmph. I had a visit to my lawyers in mind as well, to deal with Lindsey.
"And you!" A craggy finger shook at me.
"Me?"
"You will pay too."
I gasped. "What did I do?"
"You murdered my husband."
Murmurs rippled through the yard.
"As far as I'm concerned it was your unauthorized work here that caused his heart attack. You will pay, little lady."
The use of "little lady" barely even registered. All I could think of was how I was going to deal with this. Because Greta Grabinsky actually had a good case against me.
Not about the murder, of course. That was ridiculous. But about the unauthorized work. Technically, I'd destroyed her property. She could sue me for everything I had.
I could lose everything.
Six
An hour later I stood staring at the mess in the backyard. Most of the
Learning to Kill: Stories