Heaven Preserve Us Read Online Free PDF

stared at the runnels of collected moisture making vertical worm tracks on the steamed-up
window over the sink.
    Threat. Meant it.
    Had someone poisoned Philip Heaven?
    "Are you okay? It must have been awful," Meghan said.
    "Well, it wasn't fun."
    "Why'd you go over there this morning anyway? Forget something last night?"
    I turned and looked at her. "I went over to find out from Philip
whether there had been any other instances of a caller to the
Helpline focusing on a particular volunteer."
    "Is this about the suicidal man last night?"
    "Mm hmm. Did you hear the phone ring after you'd gone to
bed?"
    She nodded, her head cocked a little to one side. "Wasn't it
Barr?"
    "Nope. It was Mr. Just-Call-Me-Allen. He wanted to let me
know he knew who I was. And my phone number." Her eyes widened a fraction. "And probably where I live," I added, almost
against my will.
    "Does Barr know?"
    "I'll call him. I'm sure it's nothing to be concerned about, but
I'll call him."
     
    Meghan looked worried.
    "Listen," I said. "I still have a ton to do yet today. A gazillion
retail orders to fill, and I have eight dozen Saltea Bags to make for
that company in North Carolina that took all those samples at the
Handmade Toiletries Trade Show."
    I was a soap maker. Well, to be more accurate, soap was only a
part of my repertoire-I designed, produced, and sold a variety of
handmade toiletries in my workroom in the basement of Meghan's
house. I lived in the house, too, and paid rent. We'd been housemates since shortly after my husband died and she divorced that
son-of-a-, well, you know... her ex. Richard.
    Dick was pretty much out of the picture now, living in California with his mother, the Wicked Witch of the West, waiting out his
parole and no doubt whining like the dickens the whole time.
    Anyway. Meghan and I both worked out of the house, which
made it handy Erin-wise, especially because we could coordinate
our schedules. I'd been so busy lately that I'd been really bad about
my side of coordinating things, though. Luckily, Meghan was
pretty understanding about that. She was a massage therapist, and
she had her busy times, too, when I tried to step up more on the
domestic front.
    "You look tired," she said. "Need any help?"
    "Kyla and Cyan are coming after school this afternoon, so they
can help me package up the wholesale order if I mix it up right
away. And I should be able to knock out the retail orders either
before they get here or after they leave, and then send those out
first thing tomorrow. Besides, don't you have clients today?"
    She was wearing her work uniform: a soft white cotton T-shirt
and loose gray yoga pants folded down to expose a narrow strip of her tiny waist. This woman had had a child? I sighed and tugged
my sweater down.
     
    "I do," she said. "Two this afternoon, starting in half an hour,
and then I'm going by the hospital to work on a couple of physical
therapy patients."
    She'd recently branched out to work in the Caladia Acres Nursing Home and the hospital in the neighboring town of Everett. No
wonder she knew someone who would tell her what was going on
with Philip.
    "I'll be here at three when Erin gets home from school," I said.
    She looked relieved. "Good. I didn't have a chance to talk to
you before I committed to the hospital thing. I'll finish up this
jelly so you can get to work. And by the way, the Chase boys are
going to be working on the chicken coop today. Luke said they'd
be setting the corner posts in cement."
    Luke and Seth Chase, both in their early twenties, had moved
into the house two doors down with their father. The previous fall
Walter Hanover, our local handyman, had died. We were thrilled
when both our clay artist friend Bette and Walter's former landlady, Mavis Gray, told us about the Chase brothers starting up a
handyman business. They'd put new vinyl in Bette's tiny kitchen,
and Mavis told us they'd done a nice job cleaning her roof and
gutters.