A Farewell to Yarns

didn’t take much interest. I had the idea it was just a matter of time. Give me an hour or two to see what I can find out. I’ll call you back. You home?”
    Jane paused. “Ah—no. I’m at Shelley’ s, and we’re going—going Christmas shopping.”
    But the pause had alerted him. “Jane,“ he said menacingly. “You stay away from all this, understand?“
    “Well, of course. Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll call you back when I get home.“ She hung up the phone and said, “Let’s get out of here quick before he decides to come babysit me.”
     
    The police boundary tape was gone, and the rented Jaguar was in the driveway. Bobby came to the door with a drink in his hand. “Yeah? Whaddaya want?“
    “I’m Jane Jeffry, and this is Shelley Nowack. Remember us from yesterday? I loaned your mother a book, and I wondered if it would be all right if I went up and got it back.“ Jane was rather proud of this little story. It had crossed her mind on the way over that asking to browse through Phyllis’s belongings for clues might not please Bobby. And if he was the killer, they certainly didn’t want to offer him a motive to harm them.
    “Yeah, I guess it’s okay. The cops have already gone through all her stuff,“ he said, apparently not fooled in the least by Jane’s story.
    He opened the door and allowed them in. Jane noted that he was already making a shambles of the house. Clothing was strewn around, beer bottles were making rings on the dining room table, and several ashtrays overflowed with butts.
    Bobby slouched toward the kitchen, leaving Shelley and Jane to their own devices. That was good; he didn’t intend to stand over them while they went through her things.
    At the top of the stairs, Shelley grabbed Jane’s arm. “Look at that!“ she said, pointing toward the master suite. In addition to the unmade bed, clothing and suitcases flung everywhere, there was an elaborate sound system on the far wall next to the door to the deck.
    “That wasn’t here this morning,“ Jane whispered.
    “I’ve been pricing this stuff for Paul for Christmas, and take my word for it, that’s at least $3000 worth of equipment.“
    “I guess he ran out and used his mother’s credit cards to the limit before Chet thought to have them shut off. What a bastard!”
    Turning their backs on the evidence of Bobby’s greed, they went into the small bedroom Phyllis had died in. Jane let out a long breath of relief. The blood-soaked mattress and bedding had been removed. The rest of the room, however, was in chaos. Suitcases gaped open with clothing tumbling out. The perfume and makeup on the dressing table looked like someone had rummaged through it with a heavy hand. “The police went through this. They certainly made a mess,“ Jane said, frowning.
    “I don’t think this is the way the police would work. This has a distinctly Bobby look. I bet he was searching for something.“
    “But what?“
    “Maybe he thought she had a lot of cash hidden in her suitcases. Maybe she did. That might account for the stereo and tape deck and all.”
    Jane looked around the room sadly. “This isn’t right. We can’t leave it this way. I wouldn’t like Chet to ever see her things this way.“
    “Chet? Chet’s probably in the slammer right now for having killed her.“
    “I know that, but I still don’t believe he could have. Let’s clean this up and get out.”
    The box springs were still on the bed frame, and the two women set the four big suitcases and the overnight case there to start filling them. Item by item they started picking up clothing, folding and repacking it. Everything was of excellent quality. Handmade French silk underwear, Scottish woolen skirts and dresses, a Bob Mackie evening dress, a stunning Michaele Vollbracht swimsuit, though God knew where she’d intended to wear that!
    “Look at this,“ Shelley said. She’d picked up a magenta silk dressing gown with a pink appliquéed chrysanthemum. Underneath it on the floor was a needlepointed bag about the same dimensions as a briefcase. On the front, in satin stitch, were the initials P.F.W. “I bet he didn’teven see this. If I were carrying important papers or extra emergency money, this is where I’d keep them. I wonder if the police noticed it.”
    Jane took the largest suitcase off the bed, and they sat down. Shelley slid the contents of the case out. The largest item was, of all things, a well-thumbed high school yearbook—an old one from a