Alex Harris 00 - Armed

people. Millions, actually. But I live in a little New England town and that works too. But every now and then I need my city fix and after the events of the last week—and especially my escapade last night, I could really use a day of fun. So I headed for New York City, on the train, with my mother and niece and nephew for a day of shopping, eating, and hot chocolate.
    “Dear, you look tired. Maybe helping William is too trying. Or maybe seeing your grandfather did you in,” my mother smiled slyly.
    I sat across from her on a glorious Saturday morning as our train sped towards New York. Across the aisle Kendall and wild Henry played a game of cards—at least Kendall tried to play cards while Henry made up new rules that would result in him winning each hand.
    I gave a silent groan about Grandpa and then changed the subject to one far more agreeable—murder. “How did you know Mr. Poupée asked me to help?’
    “We saw them last night. We hosted the Scrabble game.” My mother shook her head of expertly coifed thick hair. “This whole thing is just terrible. William received a call from the factory security service and had to rush out. I meant to call this morning to find out what happened.”
    Now I squirmed in my seat. “Who won?” I asked, hoping to deflect the conversation away from the previous evening’s caper.
    My mother beamed and I knew instantly she had done it again. “I did. I got stuck with the Q and the Z. I had a blank tile and luckily a U and placed QUIZZING using all my letters. I got two triple score squares and a double for my Z obtaining a score of 266 points for the one word! Your father looked dumbfounded and Dorothy about died. She thought she had the game all tied up and I would be left with those darned letters. We placed the bottle of wine next to all the others. I think I’ll open a shop.”
    “Mother!”
    “I know, I am being a braggart, but I do love a good game—especially when I win.”
    My mother, Mabel Harris, is a good-looking woman. Her lush brown hair had turned gray many years ago. She wore it short and stylish and it looked great all the time even when she woke up. She’s tall and in her youth was quite thin. She’s still thin but the years, though kind, had added the inevitable thickness in certain spots. My mother has the ability to look chic even in a pair of pants.
    Mom suffered with rheumatoid arthritis having been diagnosed in her teens and sometimes the pain could be horrendous but modern medicine finally caught up with the disease and her current medication provides much relief. I marvel at her stamina and, arthritis or not, nothing will ever stop her from placing letters on a Scrabble board or dealing a deck of cards. She got that from Meme. We all did.
    We glanced over at Kendall and Henry, now thoroughly engrossed in counting out their allowance. Henry boasted that he had managed to save two-hundred percent of his allowance each week.
    “Mom, didn’t you work at Poupée Mannequins at one time?” I asked.
    “Yes. It’s been a long time. I think I worked there for about six months.”
    “Did you know Mrs. Scott?”
    “Yes. She started the year before. I would have liked to stay but being good friends with William and Dolly, I didn’t think it a good idea to mix our friendship with business. You had your braces on and the extra money came in handy. Look how nice your teeth turned out.”
    I smiled obediently flashing a lovely smile thanks to my parents and a very good orthodontist. “Is there anything you can tell me about Mrs. Scott’s background? There doesn’t seem to be any family anywhere.”
    “Well, let me see,” Mom said. “Elvira and I didn’t socialize outside the office, but we had lunch together at least once, and we often talked like people do. I remember she told me Irwin had been married when they met. His first wife was very sick, mentally sick. He spent a lot of time and money trying to help her but her parents resisted him every step of the way. Poor woman. When Elvira and Irwin met, he’d had enough and got divorced.”
    “Did he have any children?” I asked.
    “Yes. A boy. No, wait. Maybe a girl. Oh, I’m not sure anymore,” Mom said waving her hand. “At any rate the child was very young and when Irwin divorced, and then married Elvira he tried to get custody but his ex in-laws wouldn’t hear of it. He wanted to have his ex-wife declared mentally incompetent but couldn’t find anyone willing to testify on his