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“I do, but it’s kind of you to make sure that I do. Might I offer you ladies some tea?”
Lori held up her Starbuck’s travel mug. “We came prepared.”
“Well, make yourselves comfortable,” Carole Lee said, indicating the furniture, which was old, out-of-date, and had plastic seat and back covers. She sat in the chair by the window and Lori and her friends sat on the matching couch and loveseat.
“Every Tuesday evening, Pandora and I met to discuss her writing,” said Carole Lee, her eyes glossing over with memory. “But that Tuesday when I went around to see her, she didn’t answer the door. I knew the doorbell was out of order. It was raining so hard, I figured she just didn’t hear me. I was surprised when I tried the door and found it unlocked. I let myself in and headed for her office. Sometimes when she was working, she’d get so caught up in her stories that she was oblivious to everything else. Just as I opened the door and headed for her office, I’m pretty sure I saw someone going out the window. But the policemen didn’t believe me. They thought seeing her dead had upset me so badly I wasn’t remembering things correctly. I know what I saw, but no one believed me. And then I saw poor Pandora. She was slumped over her typewriter, like she did sometimes when she was working too hard and fell asleep.”
“That must have been very upsetting,” said Christie. “Do you remember anything about the person you saw?”
Carole Lee looked at Christie with astonishment. “You believe me?”
“Yes ma’am, I do. I found in my former life as a homicide detective that other cops often want to dismiss those who have good information for a variety of reasons. I can’t tell you how many times I was able to apprehend the killer when I listened to those who had first-hand information. Forensics is great, and is what you need for the court case, but you need to listen to the witnesses before you do anything else.”
“It’s been so long,” said Carole Lee, “and I only caught a glimpse of whoever it was. Even then I couldn’t be sure. All I could think was, who would want to hurt Pandora?”
“Good question,” Lori said. “Did she have any children who stood to inherit? Or a nasty ex-husband?”
Before Carole Lee could answer, Lori saw a man somewhere between her age and Carole Lee’s come bustling up the walkway.
He burst into the house and demanded, “Who are you and what do you want with my aunt?”
CHAPTER 2
LORI
“Teddy,” Carole Lee scolded. “Be nice. These ladies are from the Mystery Writers’ Murder Club, and they’re interested in finding out what happened to Pandora.”
Nodding, Lori added, “We’re all mystery writers. We find this kind of thing gives us a better feel for real world mysteries and helps us to understand them better.”
“I’m a former homicide cop. Unsolved or cold cases just bug the shit out of me.”
“What does it matter, auntie? It was a long, long time ago.”
“Yes, and no one would listen to me. They wanted to say it was suicide, but I saw where someone bashed her over the head. If they labeled it a suicide, she wouldn’t have been able to be buried in consecrated ground. I told them I would make a fuss if they did that, so they just left it unclassified.”
Lori leaned forward. “That’s what caught my attention.”
“Well, like me, Pandora never married, but then, she was so young when she died.” Carole Lee shook her head and clasped her hands together. “She was so sweet to everyone. Never an unkind word—oh wait, there was that Rupert Simmons.”
“Who?”
“Rupert was Pandora’s boyfriend. I never could see what she saw in him. He was a drunkard and a mooch—always asking her for money. She was a fool for that man. She’d give him money so he could drink and gamble, and she’d be home eating watered-down soup.”
“What makes you think Rupert might have done it?” asked Christie gently.
“Well, earlier in the week Pandora found out something about him that really upset her, and she wouldn’t tell me what it was.” She stopped and looked around as if she was afraid someone might be listening in. “I think he was stepping out on her—if you know what I mean.”
Teddy shook his head and sat down. “It really was awful. They made my aunt feel like she’d done something wrong, and some people thought she had done it.”
Carole Lee smiled at him. “But not Teddy’s daddy. He made them and all the awful press people leave me alone. They trampled all over my petunias. I don’t know that they have ever been the same.”
“Did she tell you about Pandora’s housekeeper—Frannie White? She lived above the garage,” said Teddy.
Carole Lee nodded. “Frannie’s apartment had an outside, separate staircase, and also an entrance directly into the house so she could come and go as she pleased. I tried to tell the police about her.”
“They checked her out, Auntie Carole, but she had an air-tight alibi.”
“Did your dad think she did?” asked Christie.
