maybe she should be proactive here. Not wait to be hauled in for more questioning but go to see Mark tomorrow, first thing. No, busy morning. She’d go right after school.
Molly seemed to relax a little and between bites of her bass shared her latest plans with Lizzie. “December 17 would have been Claydon’s and my sixtieth wedding anniversary. I’m planning to celebrate with a wonderfully large Christmas party. Maybe an open house. Or a sit-down dinner. I haven’t done one of those in so many years, and we used to love hosting them. I do believe the planning must begin now or I won’t be able to stage it.”
“That’s a wonderful idea, Molly.”
And a good way to get your mind off murder
, Lizzie thought. “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Oh, there will be, honey. Thanks so much. I knew I could count on you. Now let’s just hope this murder mess is all cleared up by then.”
Chapter Ten
Nothing is going to go wrong! I told myself firmly. I hoped I was listening to myself.
FUNDRAISING THE DEAD—
SHEILA CONNOLLY
L izzie drove home by rote, deep in thought about Frank Telford. She didn’t like what was happening to her friends. Despite what she’d told Molly, she realized that none of them were really off the hook until the killer was in jail. The police’s persistence in questioning the book club members was evidence of that.
She wondered what had really brought Telford to Molly’s house. Was it merely a matter of coincidence? Maybe the Internet held some answers as to why Frank Telford from Stoney Mills would be at Molly Mathews’s house one Thursday night. At the very least, she might learn more about the man.
She felt a jolt of excitement when she turned onto Sidcup Street and saw the police car parked in front of her house. She had to admit, Mark hadn’t been too far from her thoughts since their hike the morning before. She pulled into the driveway and took a quick, discreet look in the rearview mirror. She’d meant to check her hair but insteadfocused on the female police officer walking up behind her car. She quickly exited the car and turned to face her.
“Are you Elizabeth Turner?” the officer asked.
“Yes, I am. And you are?”
“Officer Amber Craig. I’d like to talk to you. It shouldn’t take long. We can go inside or to the station.” Her voice remained neutral, as if she were reciting this from memory and it was of no consequence to her.
Lizzie didn’t like the “to the station” bit but tried to sound pleasant when she answered. “Inside is fine.” She led the way and pointed the officer to the living room. She draped her jacket over the staircase newel post and followed. “Would you like some iced tea?”
“This isn’t a social call, Miss Turner. I have some questions for you about the murder of Frank Telford.”
No surprise there
, thought Lizzie. “Fine. What would you like to know?”
The officer removed her hat, giving Lizzie a clearer view of her face. She looked to be in her midtwenties, long blonde hair pulled back in a bun, clear skin, angular features and icy blue eyes. In other words, someone who could make a certain police chief’s mouth water. Lizzie sighed.
“Is this a big bother for you?” asked Officer Craig, her lips drawn into a stern line.
“No, not at all. I’m happy to help the police. I’m just not sure what I can help you with.”
“I’ll be the judge of that, Miss Turner. You were one of the last people to see the deceased?”
“Yes. As I said in my statement, in the hall at Molly Mathews’s house.”
“Now, that’s not entirely correct, is it? Your statement says that when he left, you were in the library. Is that right?”
“Yes, it is. I first saw him in the hall.”
“I’d like you to go over your entire statement again, right from the beginning, and don’t leave anything out just because it’s already in your statement. Or assumed.”
Snippy little thing
, Lizzie thought before
Molly seemed to relax a little and between bites of her bass shared her latest plans with Lizzie. “December 17 would have been Claydon’s and my sixtieth wedding anniversary. I’m planning to celebrate with a wonderfully large Christmas party. Maybe an open house. Or a sit-down dinner. I haven’t done one of those in so many years, and we used to love hosting them. I do believe the planning must begin now or I won’t be able to stage it.”
“That’s a wonderful idea, Molly.”
And a good way to get your mind off murder
, Lizzie thought. “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Oh, there will be, honey. Thanks so much. I knew I could count on you. Now let’s just hope this murder mess is all cleared up by then.”
Chapter Ten
Nothing is going to go wrong! I told myself firmly. I hoped I was listening to myself.
FUNDRAISING THE DEAD—
SHEILA CONNOLLY
L izzie drove home by rote, deep in thought about Frank Telford. She didn’t like what was happening to her friends. Despite what she’d told Molly, she realized that none of them were really off the hook until the killer was in jail. The police’s persistence in questioning the book club members was evidence of that.
She wondered what had really brought Telford to Molly’s house. Was it merely a matter of coincidence? Maybe the Internet held some answers as to why Frank Telford from Stoney Mills would be at Molly Mathews’s house one Thursday night. At the very least, she might learn more about the man.
She felt a jolt of excitement when she turned onto Sidcup Street and saw the police car parked in front of her house. She had to admit, Mark hadn’t been too far from her thoughts since their hike the morning before. She pulled into the driveway and took a quick, discreet look in the rearview mirror. She’d meant to check her hair but insteadfocused on the female police officer walking up behind her car. She quickly exited the car and turned to face her.
“Are you Elizabeth Turner?” the officer asked.
“Yes, I am. And you are?”
“Officer Amber Craig. I’d like to talk to you. It shouldn’t take long. We can go inside or to the station.” Her voice remained neutral, as if she were reciting this from memory and it was of no consequence to her.
Lizzie didn’t like the “to the station” bit but tried to sound pleasant when she answered. “Inside is fine.” She led the way and pointed the officer to the living room. She draped her jacket over the staircase newel post and followed. “Would you like some iced tea?”
“This isn’t a social call, Miss Turner. I have some questions for you about the murder of Frank Telford.”
No surprise there
, thought Lizzie. “Fine. What would you like to know?”
The officer removed her hat, giving Lizzie a clearer view of her face. She looked to be in her midtwenties, long blonde hair pulled back in a bun, clear skin, angular features and icy blue eyes. In other words, someone who could make a certain police chief’s mouth water. Lizzie sighed.
“Is this a big bother for you?” asked Officer Craig, her lips drawn into a stern line.
“No, not at all. I’m happy to help the police. I’m just not sure what I can help you with.”
“I’ll be the judge of that, Miss Turner. You were one of the last people to see the deceased?”
“Yes. As I said in my statement, in the hall at Molly Mathews’s house.”
“Now, that’s not entirely correct, is it? Your statement says that when he left, you were in the library. Is that right?”
“Yes, it is. I first saw him in the hall.”
“I’d like you to go over your entire statement again, right from the beginning, and don’t leave anything out just because it’s already in your statement. Or assumed.”
Snippy little thing
, Lizzie thought before
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