Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 105, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 640 & 641, March 1995

Sarah had made herself some scrambled eggs for supper and was watching the news when Pastor Bicks called a second time. He asked her if she was sure she didn’t want him to come over. She thanked him, but said she’d rather be alone.

“If you change your mind, let me know,” he said and went on to talk about his visit from the police. “It’s the first time I met anyone from that investigation unit Cranford has now. I’d heard about it, but I hadn’t expected to be meeting them so soon. Detective Reid said there are just two of them. He seemed like a likeable fellow.”

“They were both here,” Sarah said. “The other one is very young. He looks like he could still be in high school.” They said goodbye soon after that and she sat by the phone, trying to decide whether to call Valerie. If it was one of those bad migraines, Val wouldn’t be out of it yet. Sarah decided to wait until the morning.

She thought about tomorrow. Kentucky had said they should have the autopsy report in the morning. After that the body would be released to the funeral home. She should stop thinking of him as Kentucky. It was too familiar. She’d have to close the shop for a few days.

In the living room she turned on WTFM, knowing she could get something soothing and soft there, then took the pad and pencil out of the desk drawer and looked at the list of names she had begun earlier.

She had stopped caring about Jim and his women, or at least that’s what she convinced herself she had to do. But it was always there — the knowing, hovering like a dark cloud, accompanied by wondering who it was. Who would be next?

Who had it been this time? Who had he taken to the woods yesterday? Had someone met him there? Or followed him?

She looked at the names she had written down. There were probably others that she didn’t remember, and some she had never even known about. She leaned back against the sofa and tried to think.

When the doorbell rang, she sat up with a start and realized that she had dozed off. It was almost ten o’clock. She was surprised they were coming this late. The pad and pencil slid off her lap onto the floor. She retrieved them and put them into the drawer. On her way to the door, she turned off the radio and stopped at the hallway mirror to smooth her hair. She was glad she’d thought to wash her face after supper and freshen her makeup.

“Sorry to bother you so late, Mrs. Fullerton,” Kentucky said. “We wouldn’t have, if your lights hadn’t been on, but since they were, we decided not to wait until morning.”

She led them into the living room, and motioned them into the two chairs across from the sofa.

After she had settled herself, Kentucky cleared his throat. “I’ll get right to the point. We talked to Cindy Clarke.”

She nodded. “I hoped that you would.”

“Actually it was Player who talked to her. He’ll tell you about it, but first I want to talk to you about the Reverend. You told us he and his wife dropped you off at your house at four.”

Sarah shook her head. “Did I? I’m sorry, I don’t exactly know what I said. I said a lot of things.” She felt herself flush.

“He told me you got back from Essex at three, that you had your car at the church.”

“That’s right. I drove there for the eleven o’clock service. We went to Essex in Pastor Bicks’s car. It was a good thing. We’d never have made it in mine.”

“How’s that, ma’am?” Player asked.

“I had no trouble getting it started, but I hadn’t gone a block when it began to lose power. I managed to get it to Jerry’s, on the corner of Bellevue and Maple. They’re open on Sundays, but only for gas, and only until four. The attendant said I could leave it there overnight and one of the mechanics would look at it in the morning. They had it fixed by nine-thirty today.”

“You were without a car the rest of Sunday?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

She saw the two of them exchange glances, as though they were surprised by her question.

“I guess we need to be more direct about this,” Kentucky said. He leaned forward, his gray eyes holding hers. “Did you kill your husband?”

She stared at him. “Kill Jim?” She sank back against the cushions. “I won’t say I hadn’t thought about it. But contemplating something is a long way from doing it. No, I didn’t kill him.”

She watched the expression on Kentucky’s face change, and she wondered if she was reading something into it that wasn’t there. He looked relieved. He turned then and nodded to Player, inviting him to take over.

“I talked to your husband’s girlfriend,” Player said. Ex-girlfriend, he thought, but he wouldn’t get into that. “She was in San Francisco yesterday, so we know she’s out of the picture.”

Sarah started to say something, but stopped when she saw Player move to the edge of the chair and awkwardly bend forward into the open spread of his bony knees, leaning toward her.

“Ma’am, you said the two of you never met — you and Cindy Clarke.”

“That’s right. She didn’t say we had?”