Page 76 of A Rose of Steel
“Most people think of Babet as a doctor in her own right,” Mrs. Westin said. “With her herbs and teas. They’ve helped a lot of people around here. When Harley first got his diagnosis, he went straight to Babet.”
“He did?” I said.
“Yes he did.” She gave a single nod. “Wanted to learn what she knew about so he could treat his cancer. Then he tried growing his own garden.” She chuckled. “That didn’t work out too well.”
“He couldn’t grow anything?”
“Nothing!” she said. “I told him he should just stick to traditional medicine and let Babet do the gardening.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
I got more information than I bargained for from Mrs. Westin. I felt bad using her for information, especially after she told me she was lonely and missing her husband. I suggested that perhaps she should join the JOY Club. Chester had said he took the last spot, but I’m sure they could find room to make for their favorite member’s wife.
I had stayed a good hour with Mrs. Westin, and when I got ready to leave she made me promise I’d come back to see her. I got into the car and as soon as I drove off, my mind went into overdrive.
I had discovered that Miriam Colter had access to all the things it took to murder Bumper. She had packed up the boxes, making it easy for her to get what she needed. She came to the wedding and was close to Bumper.
But why would she leave her evidence behind packed in boxes? And how did she manage to get Bumper to take the inhaler she’d rigged? Could she have even thought and carried out such a devious plan?
Auntie Zanne did say she was mean and sneaky, and Miriam herself had said that she’d taken care of whoever had wronged her. Would that include committing murder? Did she think Bumper was the young voice that had wronged her? And would her killing scheme have Doc Westin in it? Did she take care of him, too, because he failed to do what he had promised?
I wasn’t sure, although it almost sounded as far-fetched as Auntie’s assessment of who the murderers were.
I needed to figure this out.
I couldn’t go and discuss it with Auntie, she was at one of her many meetings. Planning the homecoming dinner. Her life was so full of things to do. She always tried to get me to go with her, and I’d fight going, digging my claws deep to keep her from dragging me along. But for some reason, at this moment, I couldn’t say why I never wanted to go.
I pulled up to a stop light and put my foot on the brake. I blew out a breath and laid my head on the steering wheel. I had to take that back. I did know why I started thinking about it.
I was lonely, too.
And talking to Mrs. Westin had made me realize it. Right now I needed someone to talk to and the only person I had was Auntie Zanne and she was busy. Sure, she’d say she was never too busy for me, but she had a million things to do.
And she was right, I didn’t have any friends.
What a thing to figure out.
The light turned green and I pressed down on the accelerator. I felt tears well up in my eyes, but then I realized how stupid it would be to cry. I was always talking about my carefully crafted life. I had done this to myself. And there was no reason to cry, it was what I had wanted.
What I thought I had wanted.
There was no one now I could call or drop by to see. And all I wanted to do was get back to Chicago because I thought my friends were there. I shook my head. I hadn’t heard from one of them.
I tried to put my mind back on the murder. The autopsy. The investigation. All those things fulfilled me. Trying to solve it with Auntie, going back and forth with my cousin, Pogue—that excited me.
It made me happy.
When I looked up, I realized that I was driving down the road to Catfish’s place. I had come here on autopilot
How did I get here, I started to say, then I realized it was because I knew that Catfish was someone I could always count on to be there for me. He was another good thing in my life.
“Hi,” he said, standing on the other side of the screen door, that bashful smile of his spread across his face.
“Auntie said I don’t have any friends,” I said.
“You’ve got me,” he said and pushed open the door.
“Always have. Always will.”
