Page 30 of Crossroads Magic
“Oh yes. The poor dear. Frida.” She touched another fingertip. “Then there was your mother, God rest her soul, which made ten. But now there is you and your daughter. That makes eleven.”
I could feel my jaw trying to sag and held my teeth together while I stared at her. “Ninepeople? That’s all? But…all the houses….”
Olivia nodded. Her expression was sad, but resigned. “The settlement has been in a spiral since the First World War. It had one hundred and ninety-five souls, then. That’s when the houses were all built. America was building houses everywhere for the returning soldiers and their new families, even here in Haigton. But by the end of World War Two, there were only sixty-eight of us left.”
“But…the road sign…” I could feel my brain twisting on its stalk.
“From the last census taken of the Crossing,” Olivia said, soundingexactlylike a mayor should. “We’ve been overlooked by census-takers since then, but as we know exactly what our population is, we don’t mind.”
I tried to twist to look out the window at the houses, but it was an impossible angle. “So all these houses…?”
“Empty, most of them,” Olivia said. “We find uses for some of them. Some of them are too dangerous to step inside, now. And others, mostly along the main road, here, people have done up.”
“Renovated?”
“Well, yes, I suppose you could call it that. Most of the houses along the road and the greenway are in fine condition. If you don’t want to live in the inn, you could take over one of the empty ones. It would be of service to the Crossing if you did take care of one of the houses for us.”
I was too bamboozled to point out that I had no intention of living here. “Just…move in? Rent free?”
“We don’t worry too much about titles and ownership and landlords, here,” Olivia replied. “It all works out. You’ll see.”
I shook my head. I had no intention of sticking around to ‘see’ anything. But I was starting to understand why Benedict Marcus thought it perfectly reasonable to leave his house unlocked and unattended. It was as though all the houses in the town were communal property.
Helplessly, I said, “Is anyone out of the nine people…are any of you good cooks?”
Olivia shook her head. “I’m afraid that we all relied on Thamina for a good hot meal, when we wanted one. Aren ‘t you a cook, Anna?”
“Strictly short order,” I replied, marveling at how well-informed she was. In a town of nine people, though, it wasn’t even gossip. It was passing on news that impacted all of them. “If everyone wanted to eat breakfast every day, or hamburgers, I could step up, but I’m heading back to L.A. as soon as….” That brought me neatly to my last question. I tilted my head. “As mayor of the town, can you do anything to get the Sheriff’s department here as soon as possible?”
Olivia looked surprised. “But theywillcome here soon. Much sooner than normal because of the tragedy.”
It was the same vague oh-but-they-are-hurrying answer as I’d got from Benedict and from Hirom. “My mother cannot lie upon a bed like she is. Not fordays. At the very least it is unhealthy. And it is unsettling, having her here like that. Can you at least call the Coroner and urge them to pick up…the…body?”
“I can certainly make a call or two,” Olivia said. “But it might be a few days before anyone gets here. That’s just the way it is, Anna. People don’t like coming to the Crossing.”
“And I’m beginning to understand why.” My temper was stirring at the surreal circumstances. “Why haven’tyoulooked into the murder of my mother? You’re the single authority in the town. Benedict Marcus’ knife was right there next to my mother. What happened to the knife?”
“It’s probably back in Ben’s knife block,” Olivia replied. “Properly sterilized, of course.”
“But it was a murder weapon!”
“Was it murder, though?” Her tone was smooth, almost soothing. Thought-filled.
“Ofcourseit was!” I realized I was on my feet. “What possible reason would my mother have to kill herself?”
Olivia merely folded her hands upon her upper knee. “It has been a very long time since Thamina moved here. People change, given enough time. You don’t know your mother as well as you thought you did.”
There was a hurtful, sharp point in her observation that I didn’t like. I probablydidn’tknow my mother, despite regular phone calls. A three-minute conversation couldn’t convey even the essence of one’s life.
“But…suicide?” I murmured, appalled at the possibility. “Was she…upset about something? Depressed?”
“Neither, once you discount her argument with Benedict,” Olivia replied.
I pounced on that. “What argument? What was it about? How long had it been going on?”
Olivia’s bright red lips parted and moved, as if she was trying to take back what she had said. “I’ve been indiscreet. Please forget what I said. Gossip isn’t becoming.”
“Facts are necessary, when it comes to murder,” I said coldly. “What was the argument about?”
