the ID.
Sandra Duncan.
Her mother, Sandra. Maybe it wasn’t all that urgent. Sandra believed everything she did or experienced was vitally important and urgent. Eve was tempted to wait and call her back. Their relationship hadn’t been warm in years, though Eve had made every attempt after Sandra’s latest divorce to bridge their differences. Sandra hadn’t phoned her for months and had been either cool or entirely ignored Eve’s monthly duty calls to check on her at her condo.
No, Eve would only feel guilty if she found out anything was really wrong. She picked up the call.
“Hello, Sandra. How may I help you?”
“It took you long enough to answer.” Sandra’s Southern drawl had a distinct edge. “You can’t help me. I want to talk to Joe.”
“Joe’s not here. Do you need something?” She and Joe had paid off the mortgage on Sandra’s condo years ago and saw that she had a generous allowance. But Sandra had never been good with money, and it wasn’t unusual for her to come to Joe and ask for an “advance.”
“Of course I need something. Why else would I be calling you? Joe has to help me. I’ve been trying to reach him, and his phone is turned off.”
Why else indeed would Sandra be calling? “Joe is in a meeting. He won’t be home for another couple hours. I’ll ask him to call you.” This was ridiculous. Why saddle Joe with a potential problem? “But that’s not necessary. I can take care of anything that you need. Joe is always glad to help you, but, after all, you’re my mother, Sandra. Now what can I do for you? Do you need money?”
“No, I don’t need money,” Sandra said curtly. “And you can’t help me. I need Joe for this. He’s the detective. I’m in my car on the way to your place. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” She hung up.
So much for getting any more work done on the reconstruction, Eve thought ruefully as she pressed the disconnect. Her mother had always been self-absorbed and had a tendency to blow up small problems into gigantic ones. She had probably received another traffic ticket and thought Joe should fight it for her.
She went back to her worktable and carefully placed one more depth marker before she stepped back and wiped her hands on the towel. “Sorry, Janelle, I have to take care of this first. I’ll get back to you later.” She heard a car on the road leading to the cottage. “She usually doesn’t take long. Joe and I are too boring for her.” Eve was grateful that Sandra led a busy life, with lessons and card parties and trips out of town with her different social groups. At least she was off the drugs that had plagued her while Eve was growing up. She hadn’t touched them since Eve had given birth to Bonnie. Those seven years before Bonnie had been killed had been the only period when Eve and her mother had been truly close and bound in the common bond of their love for the child. After Bonnie’s death, both Eve and Sandra had tried desperately to survive in their own individual ways and just drifted apart. Sandra had suffered another tragedy years later, when her adopted son, Mike, had been killed at college, and she had bitterly blamed Jane MacGuire, Eve’s adopted daughter, for not taking better care of him. Jane had always acted as a big sister to Mike and had pulled him out of jams since they had been kids. But that was one jam she hadn’t been able to fix for him. No amount of arguing could convince Sandra that Jane had done everything she could for the boy. Since then, Sandra had withdrawn from contact with any of the family except when she needed something.
Like now.
Eve forced a smile as she threw open the front door. “Ten minutes. You must have been closer than you thought.”
“I was in a hurry.” She strode into room. “And, no, I didn’t get another ticket. Though I don’t see what good it does to have someone working for the police department if he’s not willing to take care of little things like that.”
“That’s called corruption, Sandra. And Joe is never corrupt. He told you that you were out of luck when you asked him the last time.”
“It’s just a little thing.” She went to the automatic coffeemaker on the counter and put in a K-cup. “It’s not as if I were