A Farewell to Yarns

Phyllis.“
    “Still? Or seventeen years ago?“
    “What do you mean?“
    “You got the idea that he adored her from her, didn’t you?“ VanDyne said. “Look, if she’d come here without that obnoxious son and just talked about him, wouldn’t you have formed a different sort of impression? That he was a terrific kid who loved her? Maybe it’s the same with her husband.“
    “I’m not convinced. But maybe you’re right. So you think Chet killed her?”
    He set his coffee cup by the sink and started strolling toward the front door. “You know I’m not supposed to discuss my opinions with the general public.“
    “That just means you don’t have any idea yet—and I’m not the ‘general public.’ I’m Phyllis’s friend. Probably the last person to see her alive except for the killer.”
    VanDyne had reached the front door and was resting his hand lightly on the handle, giving her a long, cool look. “Yes, that’s quite true, isn’t it.”
    Jane felt her heart sink. “Why—why you jerk! You didn’t come here for a friendly chat. You came here to interrogate me. Am I one of your suspects?“
    “At this stage, everybody is,“ he said calmly. There was something that looked suspiciously like a smile starting at the corners of his mouth.
    “Not me! Get out!“
    “Okay,“ he said, cheerfully ignoring her fury. “I’ll see you later—Jane.”
    She slammed the door behind him, then leaned on it, listening to Willard’s renewed frenzy of barking. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry. He was really maddening. But maddening was a lot better than boring.
    Jane found herself wondering what it would be like to talk with him about something other than crime. What if he did actually ask her out sometime? What would they discuss? Where would they go? Just how much would they find they had in common? Would he find her the slightest bit interesting if he weren’t trying to get specific information from her? And would she find him interesting once she got her fill of admiring his smile? She’d reached the dizzy point of speculating on what it would be like to kiss him when Willard, still incarcerated in the basement, let out a pitiful howl.
    “I know just how you feel,“ she said to him.
     

Fourteen
     
    Jane released Willard and went back to work on the vacuum cleaner. But she’d hardly gotten it together before there was another knock on the door. She opened it to find her friend Suzie Williams from down the street. “Jesus H. God, Jane, can’t you shut that dog up?“ Suzie asked.
    She was a big, gorgeous woman who made a mockery of the entire theory of dieting. Built roughly along the lines of Mae West, she had masses of naturally curly, naturally platinum blond hair—or at least, it was artfully contrived to look natural. A buyer and saleswoman for the foundations section of the local department store, Suzie was also the living denial of the career woman. Though she was extremely successful at her job, she made no bones about her constant search for a man to first inhabit her bed and then, if sexually satisfactory, to fill her checkbook with lovely money that he made. In addition, she was the most refreshingly vulgar person Jane had ever known.
    “Come in, Suzie. What are you doing at large in the middle of the day?“
    “Watch that ‘at large’ talk,“ Suzie said, sailing through to the kitchen. “I was on my way home for lunch and saw a red MG in your driveway. So I cruised the block until it left. That was our old pal Detective VanDyne, wasn’t it?“
    “Yes, it was. I swear, that man makes me crazy.“
    “That good, huh?“
    “That’s not what I mean—more’s the pity.”
    “Cut through the crap, Jane. What was he doing here? If you’re screwing him, I want every juicy detail. Then I want to know how I can get in line to be next. From the looks of his car and clothes, he makes a decent living.“ She fished in her purse, brought out a couple of candy canes, and offered one to Jane.
    “No, thanks. I’m not screwing Mel VanDyne. Only daydreaming.“
    “Oh, it’s ‘Mel’ now, is it? Jane, I’m short on time, and I’m missing my lunch to butt in here. Aren’t you going to offer me a sandwich while you tell me everything?“
    “I haven’t got any bread that doesn’t have green fuzz on it. Let’s get a hamburger instead.”
    They got into Suzie’s car and went to the local McDonald’s. While hunched hungrily over Big Macs (“None of that salad