“But just a few days ago, the police thought your friend committed both crimes. How reliable is that?”
“I don’t know.”
“And you don’t want to know since your friend is safe?”
“That’s not fair! I didn’t have to tell the police about the poisoned honey. I already jeopardized Beth and the children by being objective.”
“But you want to know the truth, Peggy. Who stands to gain by Park and Isabelle’s deaths? There may be someone besides Beth who fits the bill. Something still seems wrong to me. There are too many unanswered questions. I believe Cindy Walker is involved in some way.”
Peggy considered the questions as she poised to make her next move. “Maybe I’m too close to this. Everyone involved is like family. Beth is free now. The cases against Mrs. Godwin and Davis are strong. Why stir the pot because of a few unanswered questions?” She finally moved her queen to e2.
“That makes it difficult. But you’re a good researcher. You can’t quit until all the answers are there.” Queen to a5.
Peggy changed the subject. “You seem preoccupied tonight. Is anything wrong?”
“Nothing much. I may be going away again for a while. Don’t try to contact me. I’ll let you know when it’s safe.”
“Safe? What’s going on?” She asked him. “Can I help in some way?”
“No. Thank you for asking. I’ll contact you when I can. Thank you for the game.”
“But we haven’t finished . . .”
Nightflyer logged off, and the phone rang. She glanced at the clock on the computer. It was almost midnight. He was calling to explain the rest.
Instead, it was Beth’s parents in Salisbury. “We’ve been trying to contact Beth since ten when the kids went to bed,” her father told Peggy. “She’s been calling every night at ten to tell them good night. We had a time getting Foxx and Reddman to sleep. I don’t think it’s our phone line.”
“Have you tried her cell phone?” Peggy asked.
“Yes. We’ve been calling her all night on both phones. We even e-mailed her.”
“Let me see what I can do. I’ll let you know as soon as I get in touch with her.”
“Thanks, Peggy. We’re coming down there in the morning with the kids since this thing seems to be over. I know there’s nothing wrong with her. Maybe she went out.”
Peggy agreed and hung up the phone. Something in the tone of Beth’s father’s voice told her he was lying when he said he knew there was nothing wrong with her. She dialed Beth’s phone number. When she didn’t get an answer, she called her cell phone. When there was no response there either, she put on a sweater and jeans, then peeked in at Shakespeare and decided to take him with her.
It was only a short ride down Providence Road to Myers Park, but it would make her feel better if he was with her. “Promise you won’t trash the house once we get there. And you won’t pull me through a tree.”
The dog wagged his tail and barked enthusiastically. Peggy took that as a good sign and slipped on his leash. She put on her purple jacket and scarf, slipped heavy purple gloves on her hands. “I hope there’s nothing wrong either,” she told the dog as she worried out loud. “But let’s go see.”
Queens Road was completely empty. The traffic lights blinked yellow, glittering on the damp pavement. Peggy raced her bike through the silence, between the shadows of the empty oak trees and the slumbering houses. Shakespeare kept pace with her in his long, loping stride.
All the stores at the corner of Providence Road were shuttered and sleeping. Two police cruisers were parked in the empty parking lot. They were turned so that the driver’s side windows were facing each other as they watched her go by. Peggy would have waved. She probably knew them. But with one hand holding Shakespeare’s leash and the other holding the handlebars, she didn’t think she could manage it.
Providence Road was empty, too. The big Presbyterian church sat squat and solid on the corner. Light showed through the stained glass windows and spilled into the street. Peggy looked at the window where Jesus was tending the flock of sheep. It was comforting somehow to see that image as she rode through the night. Beth was fine. Probably just sleeping heavily. Lord knew she needed a good night’s sleep.
Riding through Myers Park without the standard walkers, runners, baby carriages, and Volvo station wagons was much easier. It gave her a different perspective. She could’ve been in her house asleep like these people. This was what it was like on the outside looking in. She felt like the only person alive in the world. The wind blew through the streets, rattling the winter bones of the trees. She’d be glad to see morning slip over the horizon.
She parked her bike on Beth’s front porch. Shakespeare panted and furiously wagged his tail but otherwise stood at her side as she rang the doorbell over and over. Beth might be angry to be woken up this late. But they’d have a good laugh over some hot tea while she called her parents to let them know she was all right. She’d understand their concern and regret that she missed talking to her boys before bedtime. She was a good mother.
When there was no response to the doorbell, Peggy went around through the wet grass starting to gather frost to the back of the house. She pounded hard on the door and yelled for Beth. There was still no response. She looked up at the dark windows in the house. Beth must be exhausted. She was sleeping like the dead.
The thought caused a shiver to slip down her spine and added renewed vigor to Peggy’s attempts to get in the house. When trying to wake her friend from outside didn’t work, she reached up over the light for the spare key. It was gone. With all the turmoil of recent days, it wasn’t surprising. But the knowledge made her feel even more uneasy.
She looked at the kitchen window, gauging how thick it was. Park had all new windows put in last summer. He wouldn’t thank her for what she was about to do. And insurance might not pay for it. If it didn’t, she’d pay. It was worth it to get into the house and find out what was going on. She was going to feel like a fool if she walked upstairs and Beth was asleep in her bed. But that was a chance she had to take. Too much had happened to this family in a short time to ignore the doubt gnawing at her stomach.
Peggy had never purposely broken a window in her life. She wrapped her scarf around her hand as she’d seen on some television show or movie. It made sense to protect herself from the glass. Shakespeare barked and whined at her side. She shushed him and moved intently toward the window. It was low enough for her to scramble through once she broke it.
Shakespeare barked and whined again, tugging hard at the leash. “I told you that you had to be good.” She turned to him, realizing she might have to tie him up on the porch. He was sitting beside a large, heavy shovel. She looked at her hand, bound in her purple scarf, then back at the dog. “If you’re trying to tell me there’s an easier way, you’re right.”
She took the scarf off her hand and snatched up the shovel. Shakespeare wagged his tail at her choice, then stood quietly beside her as she closed her eyes and smashed the shovel through the window.
Half expecting an alarm to go off, Peggy stood back for a moment. When nothing happened, she used the shovel again to clear all the glass fragments away from the ledge. She tied Shakespeare’s leash to the water spigot under the aperture and pushed herself up and in through the window. Shakespeare started barking as soon as he realized he was about to be left out of the adventure. Peggy ignored him and ran up the stairs to Beth’s bedroom.