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“Did she have something special planned for Sunday?”
“No. I mean, well, yes if you want to look at it that way. Every Sunday we—she and I—have an early dinner together and catch up on the week.”
“Okay, keep going about the phone call.”
“I told her that I did have strawberries. Not a lot, but enough that I thought she could make a pie. I’ve been fighting these insects, spittlebugs, they’re called. Hard to get rid of. You see, they… Anyway, yes, I had strawberries for her. She asked how my day was, I told her good, and we hung up. And then, like I said, she called again later in the evening, but I was already asleep. When she didn’t answer my return calls this morning, I got worried. And that’s why I came over.”
“Do you know what she did earlier in the day, yesterday?”
“No.”
“She didn’t say?”
“No, she didn’t say.”
“Can you tell me about your mom’s love life?”
“Uh…”
“That’s probably an awkward question, I get it, but did she have one, that’s what I’m asking. A romantic interest in her life?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Ms. Stone is a widow, correct?”
“No. Where did you hear that?”
“That was the rumor when she moved to town last year. It’s incorrect?”
“Yes. My father left her when she was pregnant.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you two have a relationship? You and your father, I mean.”
“I don’t know who he is.”
“You don’t know who your father is?”
“No. She never spoke of him and didn’t allow me to ask questions.”
“So… You’ve never met your father?”
“No. My last name, Stone, it’s her last name, her maiden name.”
“She never married? Ever?”
“No.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“. . . No.”
“Has she had any boyfriends in the past?”
“No. As far as I know.”
