Page 67 of Murder By the Millions
I studied Magda and Pearl, trying to figure out why they were friendly, considering their age difference.
Pearl said, “He seemed sad to me and my mom. Whenever we walked our dog Moose, we often saw Mr. Gardner lingering in his gardens, mumbling to himself as he inspected the roses and flower beds, as if it all had to be perfect, but for what?”
Delilah,I guessed.
“Allie,” Magda said, “I’m so sorry it was you who found him. It’s morbid to ask, but what was it like seeing a dead body?”
I felt my cheeks warm. “He wasn’t dead when I arrived. He died seconds later.” A pang cut through me as I pictured him struggling for his last breath. I wouldn’t describe the scene to the women. Not because Zach wouldn’t want me to, but because it had been gruesome. “Pardon my asking, Pearl, but you said the scream you heard that night was distant but shrill.”
“Uh-huh. Like something you’d hear in a horror movie.”
Magda tapped her arm. “Like how Shelley Duvall screamed inThe Shiningor Jamie Lee Curtis inHalloween?”
“More like Jenna Ortega in theScreammovies or Sadie Sink inStranger Things.” Pearl shot her hands wide and mimed screaming.
Magda shivered. “You poor dear.”
Thepoor dearhad been Jason, but I didn’t feel the need to point out the obvious. “Are you sure it was a woman?”
She bobbed her head.
“Could it have been a scene in a movie playing on TV at a neighbor’s house?”
“I suppose.”
“And who heard a dog bark?” I asked.
“Mr. Smith, but how he heard anything is beyond me. The old coot is as deaf as a post.” She covered her mouth. Her cheeks blazed hot. She lowered her hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t call him an old coot. Not nice. But you know who I mean,” she said to Magda. “He’s the guy with the sort of bald head who plays bingo on Fridays at the church. The loud one.”
“You’re the loud one,” Magda teased. She said to me, “Pearl is the caller at the bingo games, Allie. You should hear her bellow out the letters.”
Aha.That explained their connection.
Pearl tilted her head. “You know, Mr. Smith might be lying. He doesn’t like dogs. In particular Moose.”
Before returning to the bookshop, I swung by town hall, which was located on East Main, beyond the Bramblewood Park and Rec Center. Patrick said he and Jason had bumped into each other there Monday morning and had reconciled. Would anyone in the vicinity remember their meeting?
Town hall was an imposing building with classic columns and a grand façade. A circular drive surrounded an impressive three-tiered fountain featuring four winged leonine creatures that had the heads and wings of eagles known as griffins. According to town hall’s history, the founders had chosen the griffins because they symbolized prosperity, bravery, and wisdom.
People were walking quickly in and out of the building. Most were viewing their cell phones.
I approached a gardener who was cleaning up the planted areas in front of the building. The black tub to his right was filled with discarded weeds. “Sir, can you help me?”
The weathered fifty-something man stood, brushed his hands off on his overalls, and raised a flattened palm to the bill of his cap to block the sunlight from searing his eyes. “Sup?” he asked in short.
I explained the problem. He scratched his chin and said he recollected seeing a couple of dudes chatting on Monday. He jutted an arm toward a spot near the entrance. When I asked if he could pick either man out of a lineup, he shook his head, claiming all he remembered was that both were good looking. He said one man had wavy, shoulder-length hair. The other was a brawny mountain man with dirty blond hair.
Those simple descriptions confirmed to me he’d seen Jason and Patrick together.
“Thank you.” I turned to leave.
The gardener cleared his throat. “Hold on, missy. I can’t say they were chatting nicely. The brawny one poked the other dude in the chest, and he backed away, both hands raised.”
I thanked him again but left the area no more certain than when I’d first arrived. Had Patrick and Jason made amends? Was the final poke good-natured or malevolent?
I proceeded to Feast for the Eyes. When I arrived, Tegan and Chloe were inundated with teenaged girls. I rounded the sales counter and whispered, “Are you giving away free copies ofPowerless?” It was the first in a series featuring a romance between a prince and an ordinary girl as they tried to survive their kingdom’s punishing laws.
Tegan smiled. “A teacher’s assignment is the culprit. Students must choose something in a genre they don’t usually read. Most of those girls are sci-fi or romance readers. With some cajoling, we’ve suggested they try the Enola Holmes mysteries or John Grisham’s Theodore Boone series.”
