Stitch in Snow

'Wouldn't the D.A. consider that a bribe?'

'If his bullheadedness requires a material witness to hang around a foreign country, he can't complain about interim accommodations. The least I can do is give a guaranteed retreat until the case is tried so you can get on with your story…'

'If I can think of one…'

He raised his eyebrows.

'I did mention that my state of mind is not conducive to writing at the moment… And I'm not being difficult.'

'Then visit friends? Relatives? Relax in sunny Florida.'

'I'll take the Aspen lodge.' I sighed deeply. 'What a schmazzle! How's… Dan… today?'

'Your arrival has given him a new lease on life.'

'For a permanent one, you really need the party or parties unknown who did attack his ex-wife.'

'Don't I know it. We've not been idle, Jenny, even before you responded. I've got a damned good investigator working. The trouble is, the goddamn blizzard. A car can be seen, a taxi would have had a record, but the wind wiped any tracks to the house, and there were no fingerprints on the windowsills, doorframes… She was found in the kitchen, she'd bled to death from a wound in her skulclass="underline" coroner says the edge of the counter…'

'I thought she was in a snow drift…'

Peter grimaced. 'She was. The back door was open…'

'Burglar…'

Peter shook his head tolerantly. 'A pine tree had come down… and through the back door…'

'Wasn't she knocked by it?'

'No way. Her body position was wrong, but the snow drifted in.'

'Burglar! She discovered him entering because the tree had broken in the back door…'

'Possibly and likely though no one has come forward. What points the finger at Jerry is the evidence of a neighbour who saw a man in a ski mask leaving Noreen Sue's house at about ten o'clock. She was watching Gunga Din too, and she'd got up to call her dog in. She thought it was odd at the time because there were no lights on in Noreen Sue's house; although she says in her statement that there were visitors at all hours to that house.'

'Old cow.'

'She was horrified to think her evidence might convict that nice Mr. Lowell.' Peter's comment chided me for my uncharitable remark. 'She said she would not swear it could have been Dan: merely that it was a tall man, wearing a ski mask, ski jacket and pants tucked into boots or ski boots. And that is all she's prepared to swear to.'

'And the D.A. can use that sort of flimsy evidence to convict Dan?'

' That is only a part of it.'

'Well, it wasn't Dan.'

'I believe you!'

'What about those other visitors at all hours?'

He nodded. 'We're checking, we're checking but she knew one helluva lot of people who can claim, legitimately, that they were storm bound. We might just luck out. In the meantime…'

'Back at the ranch…'

He snorted at my trite attempt at levity. '… Jerry's on bail, you're on the spot, and we'll just have to bide our time.'

'But I'm telling the truth.'

He sighed again for that was equally a cliche.

My package arrived from the bookstore, suspiciously thin, and as I paid the charges, I realised that I was going to have to disappoint someone. There were only two of my books plus a note from the salesgirl apologising and saying that she'd special order the others. She'd tried to phone me at the hotel but had been unable to reach me. Would I please ring her?

'Please explain to Pierrot and Alexandra that I could only get these copies. I'll send them each a set…'

'There's no need. '..'

'I don't disappoint my fans… My publisher can mail them.' I was inscribing the books, one to the two girls and the other to DJ, 'Otherwise you'll have squabbles and that would defeat my purpose.'

'Now, what do you want to do next? Visit with your son?'

'Yes.'

'Then, come back to Denver and what will you need in the lodge?'

I gave him a sideways look, then sighed and got sensible. 'Plenty of typing paper, an electric typewriter if possible; is the place within walking distance of a shop?'

'All supplies will be laid in, there's a phone, plenty of oil, plenty of firewood. Do you ski? Oh, well.'

'Mail?'

'Have it forwarded to my office, I'll see you get it without delay.'

'Helicopter or trusty sledge-dog?'

He grinned, merely assuring me all would be taken care of. Then he rose, held my hand in a very tight grip to signify his friendship and appreciation and left me with the final warning to keep to my room. I'd be driven to the airport tomorrow morning.

I was content with that and watched TV, deliberately worried at the pattern of a new sweater. I think I undid the first two rows five times before I got all the bobbles in place and the ocean wave pattern correctly spaced. That kept me from thinking about other things.

Petra drove me to the airport the next morning because Peter was so frightfully busy and a reporter was hanging about his office. Alexandra and Pierrot were thrilled with my book and the inscription. DJ had gone into space and stayed in his room so she assumed that he was equally delighted if less volatile. She worried about the weather because it was snowing lightly again and they'd had so many snowdays already this year. Not only was school work suffering but it was so hard to keep the kids from breaking their necks on the slopes behind the house. She refused to take them to the hills if they were out of school due to snow. Her chatter was soothing, normal, recounted in a humorous tone with great good nature. I didn't have to do more than make occasional noises.

At the airport I wouldn't let her wait with me for my plane. The snow was descending with more determination so she didn't argue.

'I'll see you soon, Petra, and thank Peter for everything: especially my new "brains".'

She regarded me blankly until I waved the diary.. 'Your "brains" are saving Jerry's neck. And he told me; to tell you to keep all your stitches on your needles.'

Well, a crumb is better than nothing!

When I handed the clerk my ticket, she made me out another new one, with an open return for Denver. I sat in the proper lounge by the correct gate, watching the snow fall down; alternately wishing the plane wouldn't be able to take off and that nothing would delay me now.

I really shouldn't have rented a car for the drive from Philadelphia to Bethlehem but I knew the road and it was the quickest way to Tim and his sanity. I called him from Friendship Airport and arranged for him to book me a room at the hotel and meet me there. I haven't done that much lefthand driving in ages and I had a couple of near misses which made me take it more slowly than my usual slap-dash Irish driving style. When I arrived Tim was pacing the hotel lobby, for all the world like his father, and his bear hug of relief all but cracked my ribs.

He started issuing orders to the clerk and the bellgirl in her short skirt and high white boots. Before I could protest, my luggage was whisked away and I was in the bar with a drink in my hand and Tim coping with everything. We had a quiet dinner and a few more drinks. He wouldn't let me talk. He wined, dined and deposited me in bed with a capsule to make me sleep like 'right now.' He gave me a lovely hug and a kiss and patted me on the head. I went to sleep blessing my good fortune in sons, and not for the first time.

The sleep revived me and I met Tim at the University Centre and had a snack lunch with him. He then conned me into visiting the book store and into buying a Texas Instruments SR-50 which he said he needed to speed up his physics homework which was brutal. I had to listen to his explanation about the various functions, memory, places, until I reminded him that even slide rules defeated me. I was a librarian, not a mathematician. He went on to his afternoon classes, with a cocky step for his chicanery, and I got myself a hair appointment which did my morale a lot of good.