Page 125 - Labelle Gramercy, On the Case

Soaked to the Bone

Now he was cornered. Did this call for speculation? Time to
choose words carefully, slowing the torrent to a trickle.
“You mean, that I saw, that I actually saw? Or that I heard? Or
that I can guess had to be inside because I saw their car?”
“All of those cases,” replied Labelle calmly. She preferred
precision to logorrhea, I could tell, even though the latter might be
more revealing to the discerning analyst.
He screwed his corrugated face into a brain-wringer. “All right. I’ll
try to remember it all. Hard to keep one day apart from another,
though. Probably helps that it was afternoon, not morning. Miss
Alma was here, of course. Saw her car, saw her a couple of times,
maybe said hello—not inside the house, you understand: I never go
in there. But she comes outside to shake out a mop or dump a bucket
or something like that. Now she always works the same hours, eight
to three—nobody puts in forty hours with Mr. Fish; that lets him off
the hook with the government to provide benefits—so she was
probably here when I left. Can’t swear to that, though. Now, who
else? I don’t think I saw you, Miss Cora. Were you here?”
“No, I wasn’t. I worked at home yesterday.” I smiled at Labelle
Gramercy, perhaps unnecessarily. By now she would have skinned
the telephone companies for the calls I made on my cell phone and
home line; not to mention on-line and fax time on my dedicated
computer line.
“Then my memory was good on that, wasn’t it?” We ladies
nodded happily, no more inquisitorial than kindly grade-school
teachers. “I’m pretty sure some other folks were here. I did have to
leave my truck a couple of houses down the block because it was
parked up in front when I arrived. I know Mr. Tim’s car, that old
diesel Mercedes. Got stuck behind it once coming up the hill and had
to breathe in a lot of that oily exhaust. Really a shame those cars are
exempt from the pollution laws, don’t you think?” We nodded again,
perhaps with a soupçon less encouragement. He went on hastily: “And
Miss Alma’s old Pinto, of course. Mr. Fish’s Jaguar was in the
driveway, just like it is now, because I washed it after I finished with
the pool. He leaves it out there when he wants that done. Always
have to check that the sunroof is closed before I turn the hose on it.
Yes, yes, I know: who else? One more, now that I think of it: that

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