A Quiche Before Dying

uneasy, but certainly Ruth wouldn’t be telling this story unless she and Naomi had come to terms with it.
    “Things were so confused,“ Ruth went on. “We had only one relative—an uncle who’d died in Germany. We were shipped off from the South Pacific to his widow in Detroit, a young show girl who was appalled to have us dumped on her. She just gave us away like you would puppies. We each drifted from family to family. I was very fortunate to end up with a childless couple—a professor and his wife. Naomi wasn’t so lucky. Naomi, darling, don’t you think you might go up and lie down a bit?“ she broke off.
    Naomi had grown even paler, and her fingers were like claws on the arms of the chair.
    “Excuse me,“ Naomi said. “I think I will. But I’ll see you in class tonight. Maybe we can meet again before you have to leave,“ she said to Cecily. Her voice was thin and weak.
    When she’d gone, Cecily said, “I’m sorry if we upset her by asking.“
    “Oh, no. It’s not that at all. It’s just that she has to have regular blood transfusions, and she’s a little overdue. The doctors have recently adjusted her medication, too, and she’s been awfully tired the last couple days.“
    “It’s a shame Mrs. Pryce was so rude to her about her illness,“ Jane said.
    “Terrible. I’m afraid I overreacted. It’s amazing how many times something like that has happened, however. Most people are more subtle about it, but it’s a health-conscious world, and people are terrified to be around someone seriously ill. Naomi’s more philosophical about it than I am. She jumped all over me for making a scene.“ But for all her calm appraisal, she looked worried and glanced once or twice over her shoulder as she spoke, obviously concerned with whether her sister had gotten up the stairs safely.
    “We’re going to get out of your way,“ Cecily said, standing suddenly and moving toward the door at a pace that was courteous and yet brooked no argument.
    “Could I ask you a favor, Jane?“ Ruth said. “Are you going out anywhere this afternoon?“
    “Yes, I have to take Katie a sandwich for her dinner.“
    “That’s wonderful. Would you drop this sign-up sheet at Bob Neufield’s on the way? He lives right across from the pool. I was supposed to take it this morning, but I was concerned about Naomi and just forgot. Naomi had a little dizzy spell that shook me up. This list is for the library sale, and I’ve held it up too long.”
    Jane leaped at the chance. She wanted to talk to Bob Neufield, just to get to know him a little better. It was an impulse she was sure Mel VanDyne would disapprove of, but the police were making so little headway, and it was possible she could learn something that could unravel the mystery of Mrs. Pryce’s death.
    “Aren’t they interesting women?“ Cecily said as they headed for home. “So fond of each other and so proud of each other’s interests.”
    Jane smiled and glanced sideways at her. “Wishing you had daughters like that? Maybe if you’d kept us apart for a few decades... Still, I’ll call Marty next week. Promise. And I won’t even mention her cretin of a husband.“
    “Somehow, I think you’re missing the point.”
    They got in the house, and Cecily yawned and said, “That nap idea sounds good. Do you mind...?“
    “Not in the least.“ As soon as her mother was out of earshot, Jane dialed the phone. “Shelley, want to do a little snooping? I’ve got a legitimate excuse to go by Bob Neufield’s. Just give me time to pack a sandwich.“
    “You’re taking Bob Neufield a sandwich?“
    “No, the sandwich is for Katie. Seven minutes tops.“
     

12
     
    Shelley was waiting in her minivan in her driveway when Jane dashed out with Katie’s hastily assembled sack dinner. “Mother and I just had tea with Ruth and Naomi,“ she said, snapping the seat belt and testing that it .was secure. With Shelley at the wheel, it wasn’t an idle activity. She’d have felt better with a crash helmet as well.
    “Learn anything helpful?“ Shelley asked, backing out at the speed of sound. Shelley was a very polite, ladylike person, but all her aggressions came out when she was driving.
    “Not much,“ Jane admitted, her foot pressed so hard to an imaginary brake pedal that her muscles cramped. She always told herself she’d be better off if she just closed her eyes and imagined she was on the Concorde, but she couldn’t do it. “Mostly negative as far as the