Three Bedrooms, One Corpse - By Charlaine Harris Page 0,53

bleed very much, Mother,” I said reassuringly when she called to see how Dr. Jamerson was doing.

“I sold him a house. He’s such a nice man,” she sighed. “I wish you’d take that cat to Dr. Caitlin. He went through Today’s Homes.”

“He wouldn’t see her,” I said.

“Oh.”

“What time Saturday night?” I asked. “The banquet.”

“What did you do with your invitation?”

“It got lost or something.”

“You need a bulletin board and some thumbtacks.”

“Yes, I know. What time do we need to be there?”

“Drinks at seven, dinner at seven-thirty.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to be showing him some more houses, you know.”

“Oh—no, we didn’t talk about it.”

“Nothing as grand as the Anderton place, but all in the one to two hundred thousand range. He must be planning on doing a lot of entertaining.”

“He’s the head man here. I guess so.”

“Still, a single man . . . why does he want that much room?”

“I don’t know.” Because he came from a poor farm in America’s heartland? I had no idea.

“Well, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do too,” I said softly.

“Oh, Roe, have you got it bad?” My mother was suddenly distressed.

“Yes,” I said, and closed my eyes.

“Oh, dear.”

“I’ll see you Saturday night,” I said hastily. “Bye, Mother.”

“Bye, baby.” My mother was worried.

I’d rented a movie to watch that night, and I was curled up in front of the television wrapped in a quilt and eating crackers and peanut butter when Martin called. He just wanted to see if I was okay, he told me, after the incident with Sam Ulrich the morning before. He was lonely in his hotel room, he told me.

After I hung up, I thought about his exercise equipment and his running and his racquetball, and I closed the peanut butter jar.

And before I went to bed, I thought about Sam Ulrich— and Idella and Tonia Lee—and I double-checked all my doors and windows.

I’d just pulled on my jeans and a sweater the next morning when the phone rang.

“Roe,” said the warm voice on the other end, “how are you this morning?”

“Oh, hi, Franklin.” Mild curiosity stirred within me. “I’m all right.”

“Not too shaken up by your dreadful experience?”

“You mean finding Idella. It was just horrible, Franklin, but I haven’t dwelt on it.” I’d been dwelling on something else. I felt myself smiling, and was ashamed.

“That’s good. Life goes on,” he said offhandedly. “I called to see if by chance you would go with me to the realtor’s banquet?”

Well, well. The legendary Franklin Farrell was asking little old me for a date. He’d probably gone out with every other woman in Lawrenceton.

“Franklin, how nice of you to ask. I’m flattered. But I already have plans for that night.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Well, another time then.”

“Thanks for calling.”

If anyone had been there to see me, I would have raised my eyebrows in amazement. Franklin Farrell without a date, and the banquet so close? Something must have happened to his original plans. Did this mean someone had canceled on Franklin? That would indeed be news.

I drummed my fingers on the kitchen counter.

The next thing I knew, I was asking Patty to connect me with Eileen.

“How are you doing, honey?” Eileen asked, but without her usual boom.

“I’m just fine. You?”

“Still upset, Roe. I just can’t stop seeing Idella, thrown down like a sack of garbage.”

“It had to have been quick, Eileen. Maybe she didn’t know anything about it.”

The paper had quoted Lynn as saying it was believed Idella’d been strangled like Tonia Lee, though that wouldn’t be a certainty until the autopsy. I did hope it had been quick, but I had a conviction that Idella had known exactly who was killing her and that she was being killed. I tried so hard not to imagine that that I bit my lip.

“I hope not,” Eileen was sighing. “Listen, Roe, not to change the subject, but I have to get on with my work, I guess. I took yesterday off. Do you want to do any more house-hunting today?”

“I don’t think so, Eileen. I’ve kind of lost my taste for it, for a little while at least. I liked the Julius house so much better than anything I’ve seen, but I have to ponder long and hard about whether I could live out of town without getting the willies every night.”

“I can understand that, believe me. Just give me a call when you make up your mind.”

“Listen, Eileen. Do you know if Idella had been dating anyone special?”

“If she was, she didn’t tell me who. But