Page 70 of Too Old for This
But I’m not ready to celebrate anything yet. I couldn’t get to my hammer without her noticing, though I did manage to slip a paring knife into my pocket. You never know when a weapon will be necessary.
“Has there been any news at all?” I ask.
“A few things have come up, but I’m not sure what they mean.” Norma props both elbows on the table as she hunkers over her food.
I shove a bite of eggplant in my mouth and wait for her to continue.
“Cole won’t talk,” she says. “I tried to get hold of him and finally got a message from some lawyer. Everything goes through him now.”
“That sounds a little suspicious.”
She chews a bite of pasta and talks through it. “Last time I talked to Detective Tula, he was still convinced Cole was abusing her.”
“Was he still talking about that bruise, too?”
“You bet he was. One of them has to be lying, but it’s impossible to knowwhichone.”
“I agree.”
Norma takes another bite of eggplant and washes it down with wine. “What do you think happened?”
“To Plum? I wouldn’t have any idea.”
“You’re a mother, aren’t you?”
I nod.
“Take a guess,” she says.
A challenge. Not one I like.
The dining room is a drafty place. Well, the whole house is, but this room in particular. The candle flames dance, making shadows on the walls. Norma doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too intent on staring at me, waiting for my answer.
“All I know is that she seemed fine when she left. I don’t remember her being afraid or nervous or…anything, really. Our conversation went fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yes.”
“She wanted you to be in her series.”
Again, I nod. “But I don’t want to be on TV. That’s what I told her.”
“If I had been accused of murder, I wouldn’t, either.”
And there it is.
I’m not surprised that Norma knows. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t keep showing up at my house. Maybe she spoke with Plum more often than I realized.
I shove a bite of vegetables in my mouth and use the time to think. Norma is trying to bait me. I admire the attempt, to be honest. Most people want nothing to do with accused murderers.
But before I can say a word, Norma laughs. The sound is high-pitched and shrill, and it makes me jump.
“I’m sorry. That sounded horrible, didn’t it?” she says. “It’s just that I’ve been getting phone calls and notes.”
“About Plum?”
“Yes. Someone has been warning me, telling me not to believe…” She stops and covers her face with her hands.
