A Farewell to Yarns

Someone had given up the struggle—and killed Phyllis in error. It was, in a sense, Bobby’s fault. It wasn’t enough for him to ruin her good, longstanding marriage and make her show herself up as a soft fool. He was responsible for her death, at least secondarily.
    Or was it only secondary?
    Could Bobby himself be the murderer instead of the intended victim? He was probably capable of it, Jane judged from her slight and very unpleasant acquaintance with him. And he was showing no remorse. He hadn’t pretended to give a damn about Phyllis when she was alive and wasn’t acting the least bit sorry she was gone. But A tap on the window interrupted her train of thought. Swallowing a scream of surprise, she turned to see Mel VanDyne at the car window on the passenger side. She motioned him to get in.
    “Are you all right?“ he asked, seating himself and twisting sideways to talk. “I shouldn’t have let you go like that. I was forgetting that she was your friend. Do you want me to take you home?“
    “Thanks, but I’d just have to find a way to get my car back later. I’ll be fine in a minute. I needed to sit and think. It isn’t that Phyllis was such a terribly good friend, you know—”
    Why did she feel she had to be meticulously truthful with him? What difference did it make?
    “It’s upsetting even when it’s a stranger,“ he admitted. “Very upsetting.“
    “Then why do you do it? This job?”
    He smiled, showing an indentation alongside his mouth that wasn’t quite a dimple, but near enough. “To bring evildoers to justice? That’s an embarrassing thing to admit. It sounds so unsophisticated, but it’s true. Funny. I think you’re the first person who ever asked me that.
    Except for my parents, who said, many times, ‘You’re going to be what?’ “
    Being truthful sometimes paid dividends, Jane thought. “What will happen now?“
    “I’ve got my men hunting down her husband. We’ll question everybody in the neighborhood. We’ll check on her background, the kid’s, the husband’s, the neighbor’s, the kid’s friends’. All routine stuff to start with.“
    “Can I help?“ Jane asked.
    He cocked an eyebrow. He had great eyebrows. Great teeth, too. Jane always noticed people’s teeth. His were very white and just irregular enough to give his expression real distinction. And with that hint of a dimple that showed so rarely...
    “I mean some kind of help that you assign and approve of,“ she said, trying to put aside thoughts of how attractive he was.
    “As a matter of fact, you may be able to. I’ve been thinking about the husband. If, as you say, there was just a temporary rift in the marriage, he’s going to take this hard. He’s got family and business friends, but he might well want to talk to you, since you spent that last day with her. I don’t figure the obnoxious kid will be much comfort. Can you be on hand? To help with funeral arrangements and that sort of thing, if he wants?“
    “I’d be pleased to. About Bobby—“
    “You’re wondering if he killed her himself, aren’t you? So am I. Don’t worry, Mrs. Jeffry. These things do occur to me.“
    “Detective VanDynecouldn’t you please call me Jane? It makes me feel very old and frumpy to be called Mrs. Jeffry.“
    “Sure. I’d like to—Jane. It suits you. I’m Mel.”
    “Short for Melvin?“
    “Even worse. Melton My mother’s maiden name. I’ve always felt she had a cruel sense of humor.“
    “Oh, here comes Fiona. She’s the neighbor to the south who called me and said you were here. She didn’t know it was you, of course, but—“
    “I get it.“ He shifted around and hunted for the door handle. “I’ll call you later, Jane.“
    “Yes. Thanks. I mean—“ What an ass she was being! She wasn’t a kid anymore, and he didn’t mean he was going to call her for a date or something, for God’s sake! He was just going to call in connection with his duties as a detective. Jane felt herself blushing.
    He’d stopped, presumably to introduce himself to Fiona, and as he walked back to Phyllis’s house, Fiona opened the car door. “Jane, please come inside. I hope you don’t mind my presumption, but I called Shelley when I saw you sitting out here alone. Are you all right?“
    “Fine. I’m glad you called Shelley.“
    “What happened to the boy?“
    “It wasn’t Bobby. It was Phyllis. She’s dead.”
    Fiona put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, no. Your friend! Oh, Jane, I’m so sorry.