Murder Under a Mystic Moon(8)

She nodded. “It’s really clear tonight. Want to join me?”

Surprised, but pleased, by her invitation, I climbed out of the window and gingerly made my way over to the blanket on which she was sitting.

“What are we looking at?” I asked as I settled down next to her. The view from up here was wonderful. Our neighborhood sat up on a modest hill and on clear days, we could see the peaks of the Twin Sisters jutting up from behind the foothills from the second-story windows. At night the glittering street lights of Chiqetaw unfolded, laid out in long cross-strings racing across the flat, marking the boundaries of the town. It was a beautiful sight.

“I’m watching Mars tonight,” she said, pointing out a fuzzy red light to the southeast. “Here, take the telescope. You can see Syrtis Major—it’s a large, dark area.” She scooted over so I could lean in and look through the scope, an expensive Christmas gift from last year.

I squinted through the eyepiece and sure enough, Mars came into view; the ruddy surface marred by shadows. “There she is . . . okay, I can see the planet. Now where am I supposed to look?”

“Find the equator, then follow the dark patch that extends to the north,” she said. “See it? That’s known as Syrtis Major.”

And I saw. A blotch covered the rust-colored surface, stretching northward like a column of ash. Suitably impressed, I stared at the planet for a few minutes, then returned the scope to her. I folded my arms around my knees. “So what’s on the celestial calendar for the rest of August?”

“The Perseids meteor showers are due in a little over a week. They peak late this year. We could see a meteor every minute from up here. More, with my telescope.” The enthusiasm in her voice was infectious.

“Really? A meteor every minute? Maybe you and Kip and I should have a late-night picnic up here and watch together.” I ruffled her hair, a habit she hated but one I hadn’t been able to break.

The look on her face was repayment for all the snippy comments she’d made in the past month. “Really? You’d like that?” Then her expression fell. “Shoot, my astronomy club is getting together that night to watch.” She lowered the telescope and gave me a hopeful look. “Maybe you and Kip could come with me?”

I could tell she was torn between wanting to take me up on my offer to enter her world, and the desire to be among people who understood her passion. “Tell you what. We’ll all go to your club meeting and then, if you like, we’ll come home and have dessert out here on the roof and watch some more?”

Randa threw her arms around me and gave me an unexpected smooch on the cheek. “That’d be perfect!”

I stroked her back and nuzzled her on the head. “I know, babe. I know.” I yawned, suddenly worn out. “Listen, I’m going to take a bath and read in bed for awhile. You be sure you’re inside by midnight, okay?” She reluctantly let go of me and I cautiously made my way back to the window.

“Okay. Say . . . Mom?”

“Yes, hon?”

She paused, then shook her head. “Just . . . thanks. Sweet dreams, okay?”

“Sweet dreams.” I blew her a kiss and climbed back inside. As I drew my bath, it occurred to me that a college course in astronomy might help me understand the passion that so captivated my daughter. We were still light-years apart, but if a little studying could bridge the gap, I’d happily make the effort.

Chapter 3

ITOOK EXTRA pains with the cleaning on Saturday morning, making sure we were done ahead of time. Then I slipped into the bathroom and changed, donning a camera-suitable skirt and top. The bells tinkled and by the braying laughter that echoed through the store, I knew that Cathy had arrived. She was followed by Royal, her ever-present cameraman-slash-lapdog. Behind her stood another man; he was younger and dressed in pleated pants, a polo shirt, and loafers. He carried a large metal briefcase and shifted nervously as I fluttered over to greet them.

“Cathy, how are you? Don’t you look nice, today? I’ll bet you’re here because of the Early Autumn Breeze Festival! Am I right?” I’d prove that I could schmooze with the best of them. I’d charm her right out of my shop.

Her jaw dropped. She’d probably been ready to dig in her heels for the fight, but now she did an about-face, attempting to recover her poise. “Emerald, I’m glad to see you’re in such a good mood. The shop’s looking lovely, by the way. You remember Royal—”

“Of course I do. How can I forget the best cameraman west of the Cascades?” I flashed him a tight smile, showing just a hint of my teeth.

“And this is George Pleasant, KLIK-TV’s newest intern.” Cathy shoved the younger man forward.

Besides his metal briefcase, he had a camera and miniature tape recorder strung around his neck. As Cathy gave him the old heave-ho, he stumbled, managing to catch himself before he crashed into the nearest display table. I edged between him and a four-tiered stand of teapots, smiling all the while.

“Hello.” I offered him my hand and he shook it a little too eagerly, squeezing a little too hard. His palm was clammy and I discreetly wiped off my hand on my skirt as Cathy interrupted, proceeding to ask me her usual series of inane questions. At least this time we were covering a subject with which I was comfortable. I was proud of myself. I gave brief, concise answers and not once did I order her to get out of my face.

As we discussed the festival, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that George was nosing around the shop. Just what he expected to find, I had no idea.

Cathy was finally getting what she wanted—an interview in which I was cooperative—and it seemed to throw her off kilter. After about ten minutes, she lost interest and started to wrap things up. She eyed me suspiciously after Royal had turned off the camera. “You were certainly helpful today.”

“No problem. Now, I really have to get back to work—”

She interrupted. “Before you do, I have a favor to ask of you.”

A favor? Oh joy. Give Cathy a lick and she’d steal the whole ice cream cone. “What is it now? I thought the interview was over.”