When Annabelle Fell Out of the Pantry the Day We Buried Granddaddy

Bobbie Lee let out a high-pitched scream and leaned dramatically against a nearby cabinet, breathing heavily.  “Annabelle Watkins!  Are you drunk?”

She cautiously knelt down beside the woman and tried to revive her.  “Annabelle, wake up.  What are you doing in my house?  How did you get into my house?  Annabelle!  Annabelle?”

Used to getting an immediate response to her questions, Bobbie Lee and was about to give Annabelle Watkins a smart slap on the face in hopes of bringing her to her senses when she noticed blood on the front of Annabelle’s blouse.  “Oh, Gawd.  Annabelle, you’re dead.”

She scrambled away from the body as quickly as she could.  She stared at Annabelle for a moment or two.  “I have got a dead manicurist in my kitchen.  Oh, that’s going to look terrific on the front page of the paper tomorrow.  I can see it now: ‘BELOVED STATE SENATOR’S GRANDDAUGHTER ARRESTED HOURS AFTER HIS FUNERAL ON SUSPICION OF KILLING HER NAIL TECHNICIAN.’  Oh hell.  I’m going to have another glass of wine.”

After pouring herself more wine, Bobbie Lee circled the dead woman several times before coming to a decision about what to do.  “I suppose I ought to call somebody.  I guess the funeral home is out of the question for the moment.  I could call the sheriff, but he gets so cranky when someone interrupts his dinner.  I’ll call Daddy.  No, he’ll only get upset and won’t be any help at all.  I’ll call Fielding.  No, he’ll only throw up.  I guess that leaves Ross.”

She grabbed up the phone and dialed the Hanrahan’s number and waited for someone to answer.

******

“Honestly, I cannot remember another thing from last night.”

“You were pretty thorough and I appreciate you having your girls write out their impressions.  Is there anything from any other time that you can give us that might be helpful?”

“I could always give you my chart, but I’m sure you already have all of that information.”

Middleton looked at Ross for help, but Ross just smiled.  “Chart?”

She looked at Middleton as if he were a particularly unpleasant child.  “I classified and clarified possible suspects on a color coordinated chart.   Oh drat!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I left the damn thing at home and I forgot to add that guy from last night.  What’s his name, Ross?”

“What makes you think I know his name?”

“He’s a crook, isn’t he?”

“Carl Blake,” Ross said through clenched teeth.

“Thank you.  I also forgot to add the garden shears to the list.  Not that they did anything wrong in and of themselves, but they are missing and I really did mean to call you and tell you the following morning, but then teenagers and their terrible angst can just throw a body all off schedule.”  She turned to Ross and continued talking.  “Ragan did a Sarah Bernhardt all over the kitchen while I was trying to fix breakfast because some weedy little guy she knows with a really great car likes some other girl.  Not that she doesn’t already have a perfectly good boyfriend.”

When she stopped to take a breath, Middleton jumped in.  “The shears?”

“They’re missing.”

“You mentioned that.  Why is that important?”

“I have to go out and buy another pair if I want to cut any flowers.”

“And?”

“And Roddy probably used them to kill Annabelle.”

“She was killed with a knife.”

“Be that as it may, my shears are missing, Annabelle’s fingernails were cut all wrong, and Roddy has some mean looking scratches on the back of his neck.”

Middleton realized that this was going to take longer than he had originally thought.  He suggested a coffee break and congratulated himself for finally figuring out why life for Ross after Bobbie Lee had been just a bit anticlimactic.