hold your own,” he said. “You understand women like that.”
She nodded and reached up to wipe the sweat off her brow. “But you know something? The more I think about it, I don’t think she’s as rich as she seems. She didn’t wear one piece of jewelry. After all those years of owning a jewelry store. Her clothing showed age. I remember the crimped look on the jacket that wasn’t supposed to be there. Almost like the grand old dame had run out of steam and money.”
“And now you’ll be sympathetic toward her, I suppose.” He gave her a big smile. “You try to be tough, but you’re such a softy.”
She gasped at that, muttering, “You’re the softy. So who died?”
“A little old lady,” he commented.
She stared at him. “Murder?”
He glared at her.
“Well, it must be, if you’re involved.”
“Other deaths come under my umbrella too, you know.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
He shrugged. “When someone dies, and the person isn’t known to have any particular health condition, we take care of the case until we get back the autopsy results. If nothing is suspicious about it, the case is closed. However, if something is suspicious about it, then we work the case.”
“Is it a little old lady that Nan’s likely to know?” Doreen jammed her digging fork into the ground with a little more force than she needed.
“Maybe,” he said.
“Any connection to my jewel case?”
“Your jewel case?” he said in a teasing note.
She flushed. “Okay, so maybe it’s not a case. But, if it isn’t, then I might as well start looking into serial killer Bob Small.”
“Hey, that’s not funny,” he said.
She shrugged. “I won’t be bored, and that’s been sitting in the basket. I’ll have to deal with it eventually.”
“Or not,” he snapped, digging harder and faster.
She watched in amazement as he crisscrossed his shovel into the ground, making it so much easier for her to remove the sod. “I almost hate to be nice to you,” she said with a grin.
He ignored her and kept barreling through the work. By the time he got half of it done and was well on his way to the two-thirds mark, she was enjoying it. He stopped and looked at her. “What’s your problem? You look like the cat that ate the canary. Why?”
“You,” she said, finally laughing out loud. “To get all this yard work done, I only need to get you steaming mad, hand you the shovel, and, boy, do you plow through it!”
He glared at her, then looked at the amount of work he’d done, and, despite himself, he chuckled. “Did you do that on purpose?”
She shook her head. “No, I sure didn’t. But I’m happy with the result.”
“Except you’re the one who will have to shake out all that sod,” he said, “and you’re way behind now.”
She nodded. “I get that, but I’ve already done a lot of work today. I can finish it tomorrow.”
Just then Mack’s phone beeped, and he looked down and frowned, headed for the house.
“What’s the problem now?” she asked, following him.
“Another old lady,” he said sourly.
She stopped. “Dead?”
“You didn’t hear that from me,” he said, “and, no, I don’t have any details, so don’t bug me.”
“Got it,” she said slowly. “It’s an interesting conundrum, isn’t it?”
“What?” He walked into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. Wiping his face with a damp paper towel, he said, “I’ve got to go.”
She called back, “You really want to talk about it, but you can’t. That’s the conundrum.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” he said, “but you won’t leave me alone. That’s the conundrum.”
She laughed and whispered, since he was gone already, “Good point, Mack. Good point.” She knew she’d be racing for the newspapers as soon as she got inside to see what was going on with these little old ladies. It just added to her day.
She wondered if either of them were Aretha. That would be sad because, in Doreen’s heart, she knew the lady was lonely and desperately in need of a friend.
Maybe Mack was right. I am a softy.
Chapter 8
Saturday Late Lunchtime …
Back inside, Doreen was definitely hungry now as she looked at the meager ingredients in her fridge, even after her recent trip to the grocery store, and groaned. “I don’t want yet another sandwich, and I had just coffee for breakfast,” she said. And it was Saturday, so Mack wasn’t due to cook today. He was coming back tomorrow to cook. So what the heck would she