Read Online Eine Kleine Murder by Kaye George - Free Book Online

then?” I asked. He’d calmed down again talking about the lake. I’d keep in mind that was a safe subject.
    â€œYes,” said Grace. “The water backed up around the bend and made a crescent. Beavers used to dam this valley up before that. I remember my grandmother telling of skating in the winter on the beaver pond when she was a girl.”
    I pictured a young woman who looked like Grace, gliding on the pond, then pictured two very different little girls, the ones I had met today. Rachel and Rebecca, going into Eve’s place.
    â€œAl.” I didn’t want to set him off again, so tried to phrase my question carefully. “I’m curious about my neighbors. What did you say about Eve, the one next door to me? About her not being too good with children?”
    â€œDid I say that? Not too good? That’s an understatement. She’s disastrous with children.”
    â€œAl, you shouldn’t say that,” scolded Grace. “It was her husband.” She turned to me. “Their children were both killed by poisoning.”
    â€œPoisoning?” I exclaimed. “How awful!” A shiver gripped me in spite of the warm room.
    â€œIt was horrible. Mr. Evans was convicted and sent to prison for murder. Some people think Eve may have done it. But her husband is serving the sentence. I’m pretty sure he did it, not her.”
    My heart thumped, pumping cold blood through my veins. What a horrific thing to happen. I closed my eyes and tried to picture losing two children... and at the hands of their father. The poor woman.
    â€œI don’t think a responsible parent would let their kids associate with her,” Al said. His face was flushing again.
    â€œOh, she’s all right, Al,” his wife disagreed. “Eve is just a different sort of person. She’s always nice to me.”
    It looked like I’d have to make my own mind up about my next-door neighbor.

Chapter 11
    Con Fiero: With fire; wild, fierce (Ital.)
    It was so homey at the Harmons’ home. Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring by Bach was even returning to me. The dark event of Gram’s death had silenced my old favorite. When nothing else is running in my head for background music, Bach usually is, and it’s almost always Jesu .
    This time it was Al who broke the mood. “Well, dear,” said Al, rising with a smile. “Isn’t it about time?”
    â€œYou go get started, Al. I’ll just put these dishes to soak.”
    Grace shooed me outside with Al, refusing to let me help with the clean-up, and soon a leaping blaze from their patio fire pit was sending sparks into the cool night sky.
    Grace brought out a basket with some knitting and clicked her needles as she sat glancing from time to time at the flames. Al stood poking at the logs with a long stick for a few minutes, then brought over straightened wire hangers from a hook by the door and handed one to me.
    Just then a familiar-sounding car that badly needed a muffler roared past at the bottom of the hill.
    â€œThat dolt must be visiting his idiot parents again,” he muttered. “He might as well live with them. He’s always out here.”
    His hands shook slightly as he threaded two marshmallows onto his own wire.
    Grace saw his difficulty and stirred in her seat.
    â€œAl, dear, don’t get so upset about it.”
    I stuck two marshmallows on my wire and held it over the flames, pretty sure I knew who the dolt was.
    Al’s face clouded. “No one’s allowed to make noise at night, we agree on that. But all you have to do is be related to Mr. God Almighty Toombs.” The veins in his neck stood out as he struggled to repress his emotions. “Then you can do whatever you want …”
    â€œAl, please,” Grace pleaded. She set her needles and yarn down in her lap.
    â€œIt’s true, Grace, and you know it.” He whirled toward me. “He even complains about our having