Cat's Claw (A Pecan Springs Mystery)

washing dishes, and I looked out the window and saw—”
    “You need a dishwasher, is what you need,” Hazel said. “My cousin works at Jim’s Appliance Store. He’d be glad to install one for you, Ethel.”
    “Get a KitchenAid,” Jane advised. “They’re the best. I have never had a minute’s trouble with mine, except for the time a fork got into the—”
    I broke in. “Mrs. Wauer, just what did you see when you looked out the window?”
    “A woman,” Mrs. Wauer replied. “Walking down the alley. Two different times—and both of them after Mr. Kirk had gone to work.”
    “How do you know he’d gone to work?” I asked.
    “Because Oodles doesn’t like bicycles,” Mrs. Wauer said.
    I frowned. “What does Oodles not liking bicycles have to do with—”
    Mildred Ewell leaned forward. “Oodles barks at bicycles,” she saiddarkly. “He goes totally bananas when he sees a bicycle. Once he knocked down his gate and chased Mr. Kirk down the street. He bit him on the ankle and tore his pants.”
    “Oodles was very sorry afterward,” Mrs. Wauer said repentantly. “He just lost his head for a moment.”
    “So Oodles barked and you knew that Mr. Kirk had ridden off to work,” I said, trying to keep the conversation on track. “And then what?”
    “And then I saw the lady in the alley,” Ethel said.
    “Not just once,” Hazel put in excitedly. “Twice!
After
Mr. Kirk had gone to work! Now why, I ask you, would somebody be going to Mr. Kirk’s house when he wasn’t there?”
    “How do you know she was going to Mr. Kirk’s house?” I asked reasonably. Ruby appeared at that moment with a pot of hot tea.
    “It’s mint,” she said. “I thought you might need a picker-upper.” She pulled up a chair and sat down at the table.
    “Thank you,” I said gratefully, wishing it were laced with something very strong. I poured myself a cup, sweetening it with honey. “How did you know she was going to Mr. Kirk’s house?” I asked again.
    “Because she went in his back gate,” Mrs. Wauer replied. “She walked down the alley as pert as you please, right past my kitchen window, then opened the Kirks’ back gate and went in.”
    “When was this?” I asked.
    Mrs. Wauer frowned. “Well, one time it was Monday, because that’s the day Mr. Hamer comes to cut the grass. Monday two weeks ago. The other time…” She paused. “I’d have to check, but I’m pretty sure it was the day I took Oodles to the vet to get his shots. That would’ve been on a Friday. Friday before last.” Her voice took on a defensive tone. “And I don’t call it snooping, the way some folks do.” She gave Mildred Ewell a reproachful look. “When I see people walking down the alley, I notice,especially when they’re all dressed up. In fact, I think everybody ought to make it their business to pay attention to strangers in our neighborhoods. There’s too much crime everywhere, even in Pecan Springs.”
    “I agree with that,” Hazel said sadly. “Mrs. Howard’s mother’s watch was stolen at the nursing home. And the police didn’t do a blessed thing about it.”
    “What did she look like?” I asked.
    “Mrs. Howard’s mother didn’t get a look at her,” Hazel replied. “She was taking a nap when it happened.”
    I sighed. “No. The woman in the alley. What did she look like, Mrs. Wauer? Can you describe her?”
    “Black hair,” Mrs. Wauer said. “Straight, with bangs. Once, she was wearing a red suit, skirt above her knees.” She clucked her tongue. “Other time, it was blue. Don’t know how women can walk in those short skirts and high heels. Ridiculous.”
    “Stylish,” Jane said, “but too much makeup, in my opinion.” She smiled at Ruby. “Although we love
your
makeup, dear, because you’re our friend.” She turned to me. “I saw her myself, China. Once. But not in the alley. She was getting into a car, out in front of the McNallys’. Fortysomething, trying to look younger. But the red lipstick didn’t help, if you ask me.”
    “Mrs. McNally’s daughter Polly knows her name,” Mildred Ewell offered. “Polly was there when she parked her car out front. She recognized her.”
    “Hyundai,” Hazel said.
    “Her name is Hyundai?” I asked, surprised.
    “No, that’s her car,” Hazel said. “Or something like that. One of those cute little foreign things. That’s what Mrs. McNally said.”
    “Bright red,” Jane said disapprovingly. “Like blood.”
    “The car?” I asked.