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excerpt from UNCOMMON GROUNDS...
The average temperature in April in Wisconsin is a lot like April in Paris.
Funny how it never feels that way.
I was chilled to the bone when I got into the house and decided to build a fire. Unfortunately, when I stepped out of the door to grab the firewood, Frank spotted someone getting out of a car across the street and took off. Naturally, I had to run the dog down, apologize to the terror-stricken man and drag Frank's big hairy butt back into the house.
He didn't take off on me often; but when he did, it scared the daylights out of me. Our house was right on Poplar Creek Drive, and traffic-especially when Christ Christian had something going on-could be sporadically heavy.
Both of us safely back in the house, I finally got to my fire. The fieldstone fireplace took up the entire north wall of the blue room. Like Frank, it was far too large for the space. But, also like Frank, it provided me great comfort.
Fire started, and Frank ensconced on the hearth, I repaired to the kitchen, where I poured myself a glass of fine red wine and opted for a sleeve of Ritz crackers and a can of spray cheese to go with it. Major food groups accounted for (fat and salt, alcohol and aerosol), I settled on the couch to call Caron. The phone rang four or five times before she finally answered.
"Hello?" Cautious.
"Caron, it's me, Maggy. Are you okay?"
A sigh came from the other end of the line. "I'm sorry for being so useless this morning."
Thank God she was sounding more like herself. "I think you can be excused. You had just found Patricia, after all."
"Can you believe it? She's dead. What should we do? Close?"
My stomach did a flip-flop. What would I do if Caron wanted to bail out of the store?
"No, of course not," I assured her. "Patricia would have wanted us to move ahead." In truth, I had no idea what Patricia would have wanted. I just knew what I wanted. "I'll call Gary tomorrow and ask him when we can get back into the store, okay?"
Caron agreed and I hesitated, not knowing if Bernie had told her what I'd said out on the driveway. "There is something else. It looks like Patricia was electrocuted. On purpose."
"That's ridiculous."
I didn't know if she meant it was ridiculous that Patricia had been electrocuted, or that it had been on purpose. I chose to answer the latter. "The espresso machine was re-wired. It was fine on Friday, so somebody must have messed with it over the weekend."
The other end of the line was silent, but I kept talking. Pavlik's questions about who was where, and when, hadn't been lost on me and I needed to unload. "I was the last one in there on Friday, Caron. I'm afraid they suspect me of tampering with the machine."
"You kill Patricia? Whatever for?"
"Who knows? But the fact remains that I had opportunity, if not motive. You left with Patricia and the only other person who was there alone was Roger." I tailed off speculatively.
"Don't be silly, Maggy," Caron said crisply. "You've been watching too many TV shows. Patricia's death was an accident, pure and simple. Now I have to go." She hung up.
Hello? Had she been listening to anything I said? I sat for a second, then drained my wine glass and got up to go to the kitchen.
Time to pull out the Chips Ahoy.
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