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"She had a little writing desk, a lap desk."
"Of course. It's one of the few things Jane asked her trust officer to bring from home." She looked up at Dillon, her blue eyes alarmed. "Jane wouldn't give up her little desk and give up Becky. She wouldn't give her up if she… No matter how sick she was. How did you know about the desk?"
"We were neighbors; she kept it on a table by the living-room window. She'd carry it to her easy chair before the fire to write letters. Fix herself a cup of coffee and sit by the fire to pay her bills, or write a letter to the editor of the Gazette-she loved doing that. She didn't have any close friends to write to."
Dillon looked down at Mae Rose, touching the arm of Mae's wheelchair. "I found the doll in the desk, and the desk was in the cupboard of that room-the room where you went, where Mary Nell was. But why would they take Jane's desk away from her?"
Mae Rose stroked the afghan where the doll was hidden. She didn't reply.
Dulcie and Joe glanced at each other. Dulcie shivered. She told Joe later that it was Dillon's finding the doll and the desk that made Wilma decide to go to Max Harper.
26
She had a sudden change of mind about stealing from one of the oceanfront houses. After what happened Thursday afternoon, she decided to give it a shot; how could she resist. The conversation she overheard in the drugstore, the exchange between this Mrs. Bo
In the drugstore, Mrs. Bo
Mrs. Bo
She had left the pharmacy, walking out behind Mrs. Bo
There were three Bo
The nicely kept two-story blue frame featured a huge patio in front, with expensive wrought-iron furniture. The handsome outdoor sitting area, walled in by glass to cut the sharp sea wind, reached to within ten feet of the sidewalk, and was given privacy by a row of pyracanthas. The entry walk, the lawn, and the flower beds were to the right of this, with a wide expanse of bare earth where some kind of bedding plants had recently been removed.
She had glimpsed behind the house another bricked terrace, sheltered by a series of freestanding walls, these supporting espaliered bushes, and offering privacy from the neighbors' windows. As there were openings between them, it was a perfect setup. She could park on the back street a block away and slip through the neighbors' yards and into the Bo
Friday morning she did just that: parked on the back street and wandered on through, calling softly for Kitty. She was certain no one noticed her moving through the fog; she could hardly see the neighbors' flower beds and fences. Approaching the Bo
Wiping the damp from her feet, she surveyed what she could see of the neighbors' windows, which wasn't much. But no one was watching. She tapped lightly at the back door, though she didn't expect an answer. As she drove by the front, she had seen Dorothy Bo
No one answered her knock. She tapped again, hoping she wouldn't be heard from the front yard, and after a safe interval she turned the knob. The door was unlocked. Smiling, she slipped inside.
Dorothy Bo
She'd get it as she left. Moving on into the dining room, she spent a few minutes assessing the Spode and crystal in the china cabinet. These items weren't much good unless she took a whole set, and she had no way to carry so much. The china was lovely. Maybe she'd come back later, load up her car, do things a bit differently for a change.
Down the hall, the master bedroom faced the front, opening with sliding doors onto the glassed terrace. Standing at the dresser, she broke the lock on Dorothy Bo
There was only one ring. When the phone stilled without ringing again, a stab of alarm touched her. Had Mrs. Bo
But when she stepped to the bedroom window, she saw Mrs. Bo