Lye in Wait Read Online Free PDF

arrangements. When I saw his paperwork, I
thought maybe I could find out. We were friends, Officer. And he
died a horrible death in my workroom today."
    "I'm sure I locked that back door when I left this afternoon."
    But I thought I saw a spark of doubt in his eyes. "You were in
here?"
    He nodded.
    "Well, if you locked the door, then someone broke in before I
came over.
    "Or someone had a key," he said, with a look that said it would
be nice if I produced said key immediately.
    "Or someone had a key." I sighed. "Look in the kitchen."
    He did. I followed behind him.
    "Was that broken glass all over the floor earlier?"
    "No. So your intruder did that, huh?"
    I could tell he thought I was responsible for the mess. But I
was too distracted by the sudden, strong smell of peppermint to
bother defending myself.
    He switched off the lights and shuffled me out the door.
    "Have you informed his mother already?" I asked once we were
outside.
    "They told her late this afternoon," Owens said as he carefully
checked that the back door had latched behind us. "She'd probably
welcome your help with the arrangements. Maybe it'll help you
feel better about it, too. That lye you use is pretty nasty stuff."
     
    The last comment made me want to kick him in the shin. I
contented myself with a withering glance in his direction. He
didn't seem to notice.
    Walking across the alley to our backyard, Owens assured me he
would check Walter's front door lock. Maybe take a look around
the neighborhood for the person I'd heard in the house.
    Yeah, right.
    Back in my workroom, I checked the windows again. The exposure to the darkness outside spooked me on a deeper level now,
and I didn't like the sensation. In the space of a day, the feeling of
safety I'd felt in my own home had vanished. I'd smelled peppermint mixed in with the lye Walter had spilled on my floor. Then
that same smell in Walter's kitchen, left by someone who shouldn't
have been there.
    I didn't like the coincidence, didn't like it at all.
    Could Walter have been driven to commit suicide?
    Or perhaps, just perhaps, his death was something else altogether.
    Maybe his mother really would like some help with the funeral
arrangements. I'd make a trip out to Caladia Acres in the morning
to see her-maybe Mrs. Hanover could tell me where the money
for those donations came from.
    Groaning at the thought, I realized I absolutely had to do some
work tonight if I planned to take time out tomorrow to visit Walter's
mother. Not down here, though. Not tonight. I loaded a large basket
with bars of cut soap, handmade papers, and labels. The scent of
lavender would soothe, so I'd package those first, then move on to
the bars from which my special citrus blend wafted. An old movie
on cable and a nice cup of chamomile tea would see me through.

     
FIVE

    I FOUND MEGHAN SITTING on the couch upstairs. She had lifted
Brodie onto the cushion next to her and was stroking the corgi's
soft ears with one hand while she stared out at the occasional car
going by on the street. A small fire crackled in the fireplace, and
smoke from the well-seasoned apple wood faintly flavored the air.
    "How's Erin?" I asked.
    "She's asleep. She'll be okay. Just needs some time."
    "Yeah. Us, too."
    Meghan nodded.
    "I was just over at Walter's" Wrapping the colorful paper strips
around the bars of soap and affixing each with the appropriate
label, I recounted my recent adventure across the alley. When I'd
finished, I said, "I wish I knew what's going on."
    She looked resigned, though to what I didn't know. She
smoothed the fur down Brodie's back.
    "He had a ton of money and he just gave it away. I don't think
he spent any of it on himself. Could have bought himself a new truck, junked that old Scout. He babied that thing along for years,"
I said.
     
    "Maybe giving the money away was his way of taking care of
things, before he died. People who decide to kill themselves often
give away their