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She’d had her eyes trained on the old fashion phone on his desk the whole time she was there and so has been aware of exactly when the intercom light came on, which meant that the person in the other room was now listening in to their conversation.
She’d given Pete a heads up about the secret visitor that had snuck in behind her the day before, and her suspicions of who it might be after she’d done a little digging. Now she was sure that she was on the right track once again.
“Why don’t you ask your secretary to join us since she’s already listening in? Officer Bailey.” She indicated for Pete to open the door where the older woman was about to hang up the phone. “Come on in. Stella Simpson, isn’t it?” The woman didn’t bat a lash when she walked from her desk to the open doorway.
Gone was any semblance of the matronly type who just sat and answered phones all day, and in her place was a savvy past middle-aged woman who knew a thing or two about the world. All that was missing was the proverbial cigarette in her hand, and she’d be the epitome of the nineteen fifties big shoulder broads of television and screen.
“So, you’ve caught me out, detective. It’s a mother’s prerogative, isn’t it to keep tabs on her son? Don doesn’t tell me anything, so I have no other choice but to listen in. Now, what’s this all about? What has my little Donnie done this time?”
“He’s your son?” Celia looked between the two of them, and though it was true the woman was older than Simpson, she’d have to have had him at about fourteen or fifteen.
“Stepson. I married his father when Don was a little boy after his mother had been long dead. So I guess you can say I’m the only mother he’s ever known.” Stella walked around the desk to stand next to her son with her hand on his shoulder. Don felt more relaxed with her there, but he was wondering at the wisdom of her showing her hand so easily. It’s not like her to slip up like this.
They’d planned to keep their true relationship hidden in this town, the fact that she was his stepmom, and pretend that she was nothing more than his secretary. They’d even chosen different last names from each other, she choosing to go back to her maternal grandmother’s maiden name, which now that he thought of it might not have been the wisest choice.
He’d chosen the name Wilson after one of his favorite entertainers, nothing special and nothing at all that would lead back to him. Stella had believed that since she hadn’t used anything but her married name for the past thirty-something years, that no one would be the wiser. Looks like she was wrong.
Celia studied the other woman and the way her hand moved from her ‘son’s’ shoulder to his nape. Stepson, my ass, she thought. “I see, well, Mrs. Simpson, can you tell me then where you were on the night of the murder?”
“It’s Ms. My husband died a long time ago. As to where I was, why I would’ve been at home with Donald, of course.”
“We hardly ever leave the house after dark, not unless there’s something important, and since there’s nothing really interesting to do in this town outside of the home in the evenings, that’s hardly ever.” Officer Bailey almost swallowed his tongue at the way the woman seemed to be fawning over her ‘son’ when she said this.
His eyes couldn’t seem to move away from the way the woman was now playing with Wilson’s hair mindlessly as she spoke as if it was something she was in the habit of doing. He didn’t want to seem green as a stump, but he couldn’t help looking at his partner to gauge her reaction to this uncomfortable display. When he saw the look of disgust on her face, he figured her mind had taken the same path as his. He was right on that score.
CHAPTER 32
Stella Simpson was indeed in the habit of touching her stepson wherever and whenever she chose, but the move was a subconscious one on her part this time. Like Don, she too hadn’t been expecting the cops to show up again so soon. Unlike him, though, she didn’t think they were mindless idiots, but neither did she give them credit for being this quick on their feet.
She’d expected a bit more digging and a few more questions maybe since they didn’t have anything else to go on, but nothing like the questions she’d overheard through the intercom. She wasn’t expecting things to take this turn and hadn’t been prepared. Though things were still not as bad as they could be, she was trying to prevent just that from happening.
