No Neighborhood for Old Women (A Kelly O'Connell Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page B

at Em, who nodded her head as if to verify what she’d just said.
    “Did you save the cat?” Mike asked, still dead serious.
    Em nodded. “Her name is Emily. Just like mine.” She had a smug look on her face, but it broke into a smile when Mike said,
    “That was brave of you.”
    “Gus didn’t attack the cat.” A voice of realism came from Maggie, and I could see an argument brewing.
    “Girls, if you clear the table and take Gus outside, Claire and I will clean up and fix chocolate sundaes.”
    They rushed to clear the table, and in no time Maggie had Gus in her arms.
    “Can I come too?” Mike asked. “We could go in the back yard and throw a ball. Maggie, you could put Gus down and let him play.” Mike seemed a bit livelier, and of course, with raging paranoia, I decided it was because I’d be in the house doing dishes and he’d be outside. I was convinced that he felt he revealed too much of his emotions the night before.
    “Won’t he run away?” Maggie asked.
    “I doubt it. The yard is fenced, and we’ll keep him busy chasing the ball.”
    And so they trooped out the door.
    In the kitchen, Claire began to scrape and wash dishes—there was no dishwasher in this authentic Craftsman kitchen. I covered the casserole with foil and put it in the fridge, which was on the back porch—again typical Craftsman kitchen, the refrigerator was outside. I stopped and looked into the yard. The girls were laughing and running back and forth across the small lawn that was lined by photinia and a wooden privacy fence. Mike threw a soft rubber ball, and the girls raced Gus to get it, though he usually won. That’s the kind of father Tim should have been and never was, I thought. I was so lost in thought I didn’t realize Claire came to stand behind me.
    “If you don’t marry him, I just might,” she said. “Except I’m probably twenty years older than he is, and it’s too late for my girls to play like that. It’s a whole experience they missed.” Her tone was wistful, and her voice soft, but I heard the words loud and clear. I realized I knew nothing about her background. Had she run and played like that as a child or did she see what she’d dreamt about, first for herself and later for her girls?
    Claire changed the subject. “I’ll have to find a new lawyer. Second on my agenda tomorrow. First, before Jim gets out of the hospital, I want to go back to the house and get some more things—clothes, some personal things. Then the lawyer.” She took a deep breath and said, “And then my daughters.”
    Whatever softness was in her voice and maybe on her face a minute ago was gone. “Who’s your lawyer?”
    “Karen Landman,” I said. “But she handles domestic things. She can’t defend you. Won’t Angus Mitchell do that?”
    Her laugh was short and bitter. “He knows which side his bread is buttered on. I don’t think he likes Jim any better than I do, but Jim has lots of legal business. I don’t, and I’m not sure how to pay for what I need. But I don’t want a court-appointed attorney. I swear the one they gave me last night was fifteen years old and has never been in front of a judge before.”
    I smiled just a bit. “At least Mr. Mitchell came to your rescue last night.”
    “He should,” she said. “We once meant a lot to each other.”
    The implications were clear, and I sure didn’t ask any more questions. Obviously, I was naïve about the world in which Claire Guthrie lived. And if she was shell-shocked last night, she seemed to have gotten her composure back by tonight—or had she? I still saw no sign of remorse, only a kind of cold control. I wondered what was inside her mind. Before I could say anything, she said, “I’m going to retire and give you and Mike some privacy. What time do you get going in the morning? I’ll fix breakfast.”
    I mumbled something about seven, and she was gone. Soon after that, Mike and the girls came inside, bringing a panting Gus. I gave the girls