Read Online MYSTERY: BRITISH MYSTERY: Missing Hearts (Amateur Sleuth Suspense Thriller) (Cozy Crime Detective Short Stories) by S. Y. Robins - Free Book Online
Authors: S. Y. Robins
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stealthily as she could. For certain, she seemed sure that the woman hadn’t slept at all, and she had the air of someone who had been too close to death. Or perhaps that was just an overactive imagination; Emmeline set the tray down, and on an impulse, pulled out the chair opposite her and sat as well.
“Are you okay?” She asked finally.
“No.” Audrey’s chin trembled, and she looked over her shoulder sharply. Then she drew herself up, eyes wide, and shook her head. “I mean, yes. I guess I just didn’t sleep well.”
“Me, neither,” Emmeline said encouragingly, with a sympathetic smile. It wasn’t even a lie. She was just congratulating herself for playing the good cop really well when Audrey blurted out,
“I can’t believe he just died. Blood…” She looked briefly like she was going to throw up.
“I thought you’d gone home,” Emmeline said carefully, hoping to trap the woman into an admission. She almost flinched when the woman looked up at her.
“I have four of those trophies at home,” she whispered. “I keep thinking about it coming down, the base hitting—” She dropped her face into her hands.
“There, there.” Emmeline patted the woman’s shoulder, genuinely torn. Was this conversation odd? How would she know? She didn’t know how she was supposed to behave, or even how she was supposed to feel. How would she know what was odd for Audrey? Part of her was insisting that something really was wrong here, but she couldn’t tell if that was just her having taken an irrational dislike to another pretty woman.
“And I heard they think you did it,” Audrey wailed suddenly. Her face was in her hands, and she fumbled in her purse for a tissue.
“I…” Emmeline froze. She tried not to speak, but the words tumbled out of her mouth anyway, unbidden: “I’m so scared. I keep thinking everything I do looks guilty.”
“I know what you mean,” Audrey whispered. But her mouth clamped shut when Emmeline looked at her, and she dropped her eyes away.
“What do you mean?” Emmeline asked, almost coldly, before she could stop herself. Did the woman feel guilty because she’d cast suspicion on someone else?
“Nothing. I don’t know why I said it. I guess because we were both competitors and…” Audrey did not look up. But a few moments later, her voice came again, so soft that Emmeline almost didn’t hear it. “I feel so guilty. ”
“What?” Emmeline, halfway out of her seat, dropped back down and fixed her eyes on Audrey.
“I voted for you! I voted for you because I thought you were so much nicer than him. I know people say I vote for myself, but I never do. I think other people’s quilts are nice, too, you know,” she added defensively. “But then I kept thinking, maybe if I hadn’t voted for you—then there wouldn’t have been that tie, and no one would have been talking about your face after you lost.”
“Who was talking about it?” Emmeline demanded, before she could stop herself. “Who said it was me?” There were tears in her eyes and she dashed them away angrily before realizing how guilty the questions made her sound.
“They don’t matter,” Audrey said fiercely. She looked up and met Emmeline’s eyes without flinching. “I know you didn’t do it. You’re not a murderer. They’re being crazy. You lost a craft competition, not…” She shook her head and looked away. “I don’t see how they could think you did it over that.”
“That’s what I thought when they showed up this morning,” Emmeline said. To her horror, her voice was quavering. She bit down on her lips and looked away. “I kept talking and talking and I can’t remember all of what I said. I wasn’t watching any of it because it never even occurred to me—and then—”
“I know you didn’t do it.” Audrey’s voice was fierce. “I know you didn’t. I believe you.”
Emmeline looked back and felt her face crumple at the kindness.
“Thank you so much.” She gave
“Are you okay?” She asked finally.
“No.” Audrey’s chin trembled, and she looked over her shoulder sharply. Then she drew herself up, eyes wide, and shook her head. “I mean, yes. I guess I just didn’t sleep well.”
“Me, neither,” Emmeline said encouragingly, with a sympathetic smile. It wasn’t even a lie. She was just congratulating herself for playing the good cop really well when Audrey blurted out,
“I can’t believe he just died. Blood…” She looked briefly like she was going to throw up.
“I thought you’d gone home,” Emmeline said carefully, hoping to trap the woman into an admission. She almost flinched when the woman looked up at her.
“I have four of those trophies at home,” she whispered. “I keep thinking about it coming down, the base hitting—” She dropped her face into her hands.
“There, there.” Emmeline patted the woman’s shoulder, genuinely torn. Was this conversation odd? How would she know? She didn’t know how she was supposed to behave, or even how she was supposed to feel. How would she know what was odd for Audrey? Part of her was insisting that something really was wrong here, but she couldn’t tell if that was just her having taken an irrational dislike to another pretty woman.
“And I heard they think you did it,” Audrey wailed suddenly. Her face was in her hands, and she fumbled in her purse for a tissue.
“I…” Emmeline froze. She tried not to speak, but the words tumbled out of her mouth anyway, unbidden: “I’m so scared. I keep thinking everything I do looks guilty.”
“I know what you mean,” Audrey whispered. But her mouth clamped shut when Emmeline looked at her, and she dropped her eyes away.
“What do you mean?” Emmeline asked, almost coldly, before she could stop herself. Did the woman feel guilty because she’d cast suspicion on someone else?
“Nothing. I don’t know why I said it. I guess because we were both competitors and…” Audrey did not look up. But a few moments later, her voice came again, so soft that Emmeline almost didn’t hear it. “I feel so guilty. ”
“What?” Emmeline, halfway out of her seat, dropped back down and fixed her eyes on Audrey.
“I voted for you! I voted for you because I thought you were so much nicer than him. I know people say I vote for myself, but I never do. I think other people’s quilts are nice, too, you know,” she added defensively. “But then I kept thinking, maybe if I hadn’t voted for you—then there wouldn’t have been that tie, and no one would have been talking about your face after you lost.”
“Who was talking about it?” Emmeline demanded, before she could stop herself. “Who said it was me?” There were tears in her eyes and she dashed them away angrily before realizing how guilty the questions made her sound.
“They don’t matter,” Audrey said fiercely. She looked up and met Emmeline’s eyes without flinching. “I know you didn’t do it. You’re not a murderer. They’re being crazy. You lost a craft competition, not…” She shook her head and looked away. “I don’t see how they could think you did it over that.”
“That’s what I thought when they showed up this morning,” Emmeline said. To her horror, her voice was quavering. She bit down on her lips and looked away. “I kept talking and talking and I can’t remember all of what I said. I wasn’t watching any of it because it never even occurred to me—and then—”
“I know you didn’t do it.” Audrey’s voice was fierce. “I know you didn’t. I believe you.”
Emmeline looked back and felt her face crumple at the kindness.
“Thank you so much.” She gave
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