No Accounting for Murder

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Carly's pulse raced at this news. "Phone call?"

"Sure. He was sitting there, all calm and happy. Smiled at me. Said hi to the owner. Waved at a couple of old ladies walking down the street. Then his phone rang."

"Did he say anything?"

"Huh-uh. I thought it was bad news. He listened, his face went white, and he hung up. I thought maybe someone was sick or something. But usually you expect a person to ask 'how bad is it?' or 'what hospital?' All he did was hang up."

Carly thought for a moment while Margaret stood beside her, shifting from one foot to the other. Finally, a customer came in. Margaret shuffled over to serve her, and Carly left the café.

Outside, the evening air cooled and refreshed her as Carly walked home. She pondered all she had learned since leaving the house-she glanced at her watch-almost an hour ago. Mike would wonder where she had gone. She quickened her step, conscious the streets were empty of pedestrians. The moon hung low on the horizon, obscured by clouds. Carly shivered in her light sweater. Every sound seemed sinister in the dark. She chuckled quietly to herself. She would be glad to get home.

Her mind went over the past couple of days. She had been under a lot of stress lately. And to top it all off, she wasn't feeling herself. Tired, a little cranky, easily distracted. And what had Denise said? Maybe you're pregnant.

Her marriage to Mike was more than she could have hoped for. She had a ready-made family, complete with grandchildren. A rewarding and exciting career, good friends, and a husband who loved her unconditionally. She didn't need a child of her own. Especially not at this late time in her life. She was too old to be the mother of a newborn.

She paused to consider this. A lot of things in their lives would change if they had a baby now. Her job, their plans for travel and retirement, maybe even their relationship with Mike's kids and the grandkids.

The sound of knocking broke through her thoughts. She looked up in surprise. Mrs. Olsen, the pharmacist's wife, tapped on the front door to the pharmacy. She unlocked the door and beckoned to Carly.

"You look like you might need something before I close up."

"No, I'm fine, Mrs. Olsen. Just thinking."

"Are you sure?" The older woman pushed the door open wider. "Come on in. I haven't closed out the cash register yet."

Carly stepped inside the old store. Near the door stood a candy rack full of old-fashioned candy sticks. She breathed in the mingled scents of peppermint, licorice, and cherry.

The pharmacy was over a hundred years old and still retained its original design. Most of the products were on shelves behind long counters and customers asked for what they wanted. The only concessions to modernization were a couple of soft drink coolers in the back of the store, along with a photocopier and a fax machine.

Carly felt awkward keeping Mrs. Olsen there after regular hours and so she determined to buy some small item. She selected several candy sticks, a package of gum, and considered what else she might need when her glance fell on a package labeled "Early Response".

A home pregnancy test would settle things once and for all.

Her face flushed at the thought of asking Mrs. Olsen for the package. News of her purchase would be all over town before she even get home. She shook her head.

She worked hard to talk herself out of her purchase and didn't hear Mrs. Olsen come up behind her. For the second time that day, she jumped at the sound of her name nearby.

"Carly. Don't worry. I won't say anything until you do."

Carly stepped back. She wanted to deny the implication of the older woman's statement, but instead she held her tongue.

Mrs. Olsen went around the long wooden counter and set the small package on the counter. "Will that be all?"

Carly nodded, and Mrs. Olsen rang up her purchases in the old-fashioned cash register. Discreetly she slipped them into a brown paper bag and Carly passed her a twenty-dollar bill she fished out of her jeans pocket. Her change and receipt were returned to her and Carly picked up her bag.

"I hope you get the result you want."

Heat rushed to her face again and she nodded mutely. Clutching the bag to her chest, she hurried out of the store and into the cool evening. Gratefully she sucked in huge gulps of salty air, surprised to feel tears wetting her cheeks.

Once inside her house again, Carly wanted nothing more than to feel safe and to relax. She stuffed the bag into a drawer in the kitchen then leaned against the counter to calm her shaking knees. Anxious to keep her mind busy, she set the kettle to boil on the stove, taking down a mug from the cupboard. A cup of tea might help. Something with no caffeine.

Listening to the water bubble, she laughed at her foolish fears. Susan had to be wrong. Jacob was as harmless as an old dog. She had never had any reason to think ill of him before.

She poured herself a cup of tea, leaving the bag in the cup to steep. As the steam rose from the cup, she tried to think back over the past few weeks to determine if she might be pregnant. She dropped the tea bag into the trashcan. Deciding some lemon would be nice, she pulled the fruit from its hiding place behind the mayonnaise, then stopped.

The last time she bought lemons was when her last cycle started. Hot lemon drink always made the aches and pains goes away.

She closed her eyes to think.

That was six weeks ago.