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Authors: Mary Jane Maffini
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her. Quiet, kept to herself.”
“That’s her. Very pretty woman, but didn’t socialize. Just taught school and came home. No boyfriends that I ever saw. But she was no pushover. I heard she’d just won a lawsuit against a former employer. She told me she was tired of taking crap from people and she was going to take care of herself from that point on. She said people had better watch out. From now on it was just her and her cat. She liked her cat a lot. That’s why she was outside with all that blowing snow. Searching for the cat. It was an indoor cat. She’d had it declawed so you can imagine she was in a panic. Didn’t think it could look after itself.”
The huge shaggy dog whimpered.
“Brutus here was terrified of that cat. Weren’t you, boy? You know, I feel bad. I heard her calling for that cat and I didn’t come out to help. Maybe . . .”
“It’s not your fault,” I said automatically. She nodded, glad to be off the hook. But as I spoke memory fragments were flooding in. Back in high school Bethann Reynolds had been a tall, awkward, and painfully shy girl. She had been very pretty in a pale, anxious way. Did I just imagine she was always glancing over her shoulder? Getting away from high school improved all our looks a lot, in my opinion.
“My own dogs are not good with cats,” I said. “Where exactly did Bethann live?”
“You’re not one of those reporters, are you?” The dog growled. “Won’t give people a decent bit of privacy? Buzzards. Vultures, preying on the—”
“No. I’m not. I’m just an ordinary person.”
“You’d better not be lying.”
An echoing growl from the shaggy dog.
“It’s the truth. I hate those guys,” I said, as much to the dog as its owner.
She pointed two houses down to a white house with green shutters. Even from where we stood I could see that the draperies were tightly closed in every window.
“She lived alone with the cat?”
“The mother and one sister lived here too, although they come and go. The other sister lives in Poughkeepsie. They’re a bit flaky at the best of times. This is not the best of times, so I wouldn’t want to see anyone bothering them.”
“Don’t worry about that. Thank you.” I headed back to my car, snippets of memories continuing to pop into my mind. Unless I was mistaken, back in high school, Bethann Reynolds had been yet another target of Serena and her pals. Now she was dead. So many people had been targeted back then. Did this mean anything? Was it just a crazy coincidence? Life is full of them, but it seemed too close to my conversation with Mona. Of course, Mona would have no logical reason to harm Bethann. But was logic driving Mona?
I dropped in to CYCotics to see Jack. The shop opens at eleven on Sundays. I found no Jack, but one of the part-timers who did the bike repairs was on duty, doing spring bike tune-ups for optimistic Woodbridgers. I was surprised because I rarely see these part-time employees. However, this day customer sightings were even more rare. Jack had finished whatever he’d gone in to do and headed home for the day. By the time I trudged up my stairs, he was already settled in on the sofa. He’d taken the dogs out again and made another pot of coffee.
“Sit down. I’ll get you a cup. The news is bizarre again,” he said as he poured dark fragrant brew into our matching Organized for Success mugs.
“I need to change out of these horrible wet jeans first. And what do you mean?” I yawned as I headed to the bedroom to change and hang up my sodden jeans to dry. “More weird than usual?”
When I returned, Jack handed me a fresh mug and said, “Well, yeah. I think so. Two people killed in Woodbridge in two days. Even though we’ve dealt with some bad stuff in the past two years, that is still weird.”
I took a sip out of self-preservation. “Someone else was killed?”
“If you believe Todd Tyrell.”
“Not sure I do and don’t even suggest that I might be
“That’s her. Very pretty woman, but didn’t socialize. Just taught school and came home. No boyfriends that I ever saw. But she was no pushover. I heard she’d just won a lawsuit against a former employer. She told me she was tired of taking crap from people and she was going to take care of herself from that point on. She said people had better watch out. From now on it was just her and her cat. She liked her cat a lot. That’s why she was outside with all that blowing snow. Searching for the cat. It was an indoor cat. She’d had it declawed so you can imagine she was in a panic. Didn’t think it could look after itself.”
The huge shaggy dog whimpered.
“Brutus here was terrified of that cat. Weren’t you, boy? You know, I feel bad. I heard her calling for that cat and I didn’t come out to help. Maybe . . .”
“It’s not your fault,” I said automatically. She nodded, glad to be off the hook. But as I spoke memory fragments were flooding in. Back in high school Bethann Reynolds had been a tall, awkward, and painfully shy girl. She had been very pretty in a pale, anxious way. Did I just imagine she was always glancing over her shoulder? Getting away from high school improved all our looks a lot, in my opinion.
“My own dogs are not good with cats,” I said. “Where exactly did Bethann live?”
“You’re not one of those reporters, are you?” The dog growled. “Won’t give people a decent bit of privacy? Buzzards. Vultures, preying on the—”
“No. I’m not. I’m just an ordinary person.”
“You’d better not be lying.”
An echoing growl from the shaggy dog.
“It’s the truth. I hate those guys,” I said, as much to the dog as its owner.
She pointed two houses down to a white house with green shutters. Even from where we stood I could see that the draperies were tightly closed in every window.
“She lived alone with the cat?”
“The mother and one sister lived here too, although they come and go. The other sister lives in Poughkeepsie. They’re a bit flaky at the best of times. This is not the best of times, so I wouldn’t want to see anyone bothering them.”
“Don’t worry about that. Thank you.” I headed back to my car, snippets of memories continuing to pop into my mind. Unless I was mistaken, back in high school, Bethann Reynolds had been yet another target of Serena and her pals. Now she was dead. So many people had been targeted back then. Did this mean anything? Was it just a crazy coincidence? Life is full of them, but it seemed too close to my conversation with Mona. Of course, Mona would have no logical reason to harm Bethann. But was logic driving Mona?
I dropped in to CYCotics to see Jack. The shop opens at eleven on Sundays. I found no Jack, but one of the part-timers who did the bike repairs was on duty, doing spring bike tune-ups for optimistic Woodbridgers. I was surprised because I rarely see these part-time employees. However, this day customer sightings were even more rare. Jack had finished whatever he’d gone in to do and headed home for the day. By the time I trudged up my stairs, he was already settled in on the sofa. He’d taken the dogs out again and made another pot of coffee.
“Sit down. I’ll get you a cup. The news is bizarre again,” he said as he poured dark fragrant brew into our matching Organized for Success mugs.
“I need to change out of these horrible wet jeans first. And what do you mean?” I yawned as I headed to the bedroom to change and hang up my sodden jeans to dry. “More weird than usual?”
When I returned, Jack handed me a fresh mug and said, “Well, yeah. I think so. Two people killed in Woodbridge in two days. Even though we’ve dealt with some bad stuff in the past two years, that is still weird.”
I took a sip out of self-preservation. “Someone else was killed?”
“If you believe Todd Tyrell.”
“Not sure I do and don’t even suggest that I might be
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