The Happy Birthday Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

favorite reading at St. Stephen’s—so I was ahead of the game.
    I stopped thinking about the unhappy deaths of a dozen years ago and concentrated on the present, preparing for my next class. But something happened to bring it all back to me. Several days after my coffee with Midge, the phone rang and a woman introduced herself as Celia Yaeger.
    “I ran into your neighbor Midge McDonald yesterday,” the voice said. “She said you wanted to talk to me.”
    “Oh,” I said in surprise. “Mrs. Yaeger. I believe you knew my aunt, Margaret Wirth.”
    “I knew her very well, a lovely, wonderful person. I miss her in my life today even though she’s been gone for several years.” She spoke in a careful, well-modulated voice. I could imagine her presiding over a meeting or conference, everything in perfect order.
    “I found a note from you among my aunt’s possessions,” I said. “It was written after Mr. Filmore died some years ago.”
    “I’m sure I did write to her then. She had worked with him on at least one project and she was very helpful afterhe died, getting papers together, seeing to it that his good work wouldn’t be lost. And it happened at a terrible time. There was another death, too.”
    “Darby Maxwell.”
    “Yes, that was his name, a resident of Greenwillow. You must know about Greenwillow. Margaret’s son lives there.”
    “We’re very close,” I said.
    “I’m glad to hear it. What was it you wanted to ask me?”
    I felt a little embarrassed. I didn’t really want to ask her anything. Midge must have misunderstood. “I was just interested in Aunt Meg’s involvement with those two people. She never talked about them.”
    “Your aunt was a modest person, Mrs. Brooks. I don’t think I ever heard her toot her own horn in all the years I knew her. She probably didn’t know how. But she tooted everybody else’s; I can tell you that.”
    “That’s very kind of you.” I wasn’t sure what to say and I felt awkward. “Well, I thank you for calling.”
    “Why don’t we have lunch? I don’t think I’ve ever met you and you’ve lived here some time now. Can you make it tomorrow?”
    I told her I could if we made it at twelve-thirty, as I was teaching, and she said that would be fine. When I got off the phone, I called Elsie Rivers, Eddie’s surrogate grandmother, and arranged for him to spend the second half of his day with her.
    Then I tried to think of what Mrs. Yaeger and I would talk about.

4
    I dressed for class on Wednesday morning. I’m a bit more formal than some of the teachers, who come in wearing torn jeans and flannel shirts. I generally wear a skirt with a blouse or sweater, sometimes a jacket. Mrs. Yaeger had sounded more like my mother’s generation than my own, so I surmised she would appreciate some formality. I didn’t know what to expect when I parked in front of her house after I drove back from my class. Fictional killers and sleuths were swirling in my head as they tended to do when I finished teaching.
    The house was one of the older ones in Oakwood, and I could see where it had been extended as so many, including ours, have. I rang the bell and a small, thin, gray-haired woman opened the door, grasped my hand firmly with enthusiasm, gave me a welcoming smile, and invited me inside.
    “Would you care to join me in a glass of sherry?” she asked when my coat had been hung in the hall closet.
    “That would be very nice.” I’m not much of a drinker, but I thought I could manage some sherry without falling asleep at the table.
    We sat in the living room with our drinks and a platter of canapés that included thin slices of cucumber with notched edges, blue cheese, and rice crackers and some others that were less identifiable but very tasty.
    “When my husband was mayor, I tried to meet as many families as I could,” my hostess said, “but I know I’ve missed a lot of newcomers in the last few years. I knew you’d moved in after Meg died, but I never got