Page 105 of Murder By the Millions
Katherine flinched. Her eyes snapped open. She peered at me with fear. “Who are you?”
“My name is Allie. Don’t be frightened. I’m Finette’s friend.”
“Don’t know any Finette.” She pulled the tie of her pink robe tighter around her waist. A pair of slippers lay on the floor at an odd angle, as if they’d fallen off her feet.
“I was concerned when you didn’t answer the door, so I located your key and used it to enter. I know Finette would want me to—”
“Don’t know any Finette.”
“Sure you do. She’s your grandniece.”
“I have two.”
At least she’d gotten that fact right. She was probably foggy after falling into a deep sleep. I grabbed the remote control and muted the television.
“I’m thirsty.” Katherine pressed a button to raise the recliner to a more suitable sitting position.
“Yes, ma’am. On it.” I fetched a half-drunk glass of water from the side table by the sofa and handed it to her. “Here you go.”
She held it in two hands and bent her head to the rim of the glass rather than raising the bottom of the glass to help the flow. “It’s empty,” she said.
“No, ma’am. You have to tip the glass a bit more.” Was she senile? Had she forgotten how to drink from a cup? “Let me help.” I reached over to assist. A small amount of water spilled into her mouth.
“Thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Darcy mewed again, eager to make Katherine’s acquaintance.
“Is that a cat?” Katherine blinked.
“Yes. It’s Darcy, my tuxedo cat.”
“I love the name Darcy. Marigold did, too. Did you know Marigold? She died.”
“Yes, ma’am, I did. She was a dear friend.”
She hummed. “Fitzwilliam Darcy was so handsome.” She extended her arms. “May I hold him?”
I took the glass from her, placed it on the side table, and retrieved my cat. I told him to be gentle and set him in her lap. “Here you go.”
“Nice kitty. Nice Darcy.” She petted him slowly, head to tail. “I had a tuxedo cat. He died a few years ago. My nephew hated cats, but I didn’t care. I wanted his girls to have one. Pets are important. They show humans how to be more loving.”
“That’s true. Your grandniece Finette—”
“No!” She said it so sharply Darcy quaked and leaped to the floor. “You do not pronounce it in such a fashion.”
“You don’t?”
“It’s Finette. Accent on the first syllable, longi.Not Finette like Annette.”
I repeated the word properly, showing her I was listening, while wondering why Finette had changed the pronunciation. Perhaps her parents had said it that way, and it had been a bone of contention between them and her great-aunt.
“Is this your family?” I pointed to the multiple photographs of Katherine and the man I presumed to be her husband. I regarded one picture in which an angelic thirty-something woman was standing beside a young fireman. They were flanking a pair of teen girls. The girl closest to the fireman was clearly Finette. The other had to be the older sister, who’d relocated to Arizona. “Very attractive.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I brought in your mail. Would you like me to go through it with you?”
