Mulch ado about nothing

pretty sharp things to say about the balance of nature and I liked her a lot. That woman coming out of the house looked like her. Wonder if it’s a sister.”
    The kitchen door opened and Jane’s eldest child, Mike, came in. “Wow! A cast and crutches and everything. Cool! Does it hurt?“
    “Does it hurt? Of course it hurts!“ She paused. “But not a whole lot,“ she admitted. “The problem is the crutches. I can’t control them.“
    “Let me try,“ Mike said delightedly.
    Since he was about a foot taller than his mother, he had to hunch over like an old man to even reach the handles, but managed to lurch around the room briskly.
    “So how are you going to decorate the cast?“ he asked, tossing the crutches back on the sofa and lowering himself to the floor with the grace that only twenty-year-old knees can manage. “Shame it’s a plain white one. The stuff they wrap it with these days comes in neon colors and with sports emblems, you know. Scott had one for a while on his hand in magenta.“
    “Neither sports emblems nor magenta goes with my wardrobe,“ Jane said. “Besides, I wasn’t offered another color.”
    The doorbell rang and Mike went to let Mel in. “Anything you want fetched, Mom?“ Mike asked when he was halfway up the steps to his room.
    “Carryout dinner,“ Jane replied.
    Mel had seated himself in the other chair next to the sofa. “Bad break?“ he asked sympathetically.
    “Just a fracture in a big bone,“ Jane replied. “I saw the X ray. I never knew there were so many bones in a foot. What happened to Julie Jackson?”
    Mel sighed. “She’s alive at least. In a coma. She was attacked in her basement, which is a sort of workshop. Lots of lights over seedlings and a desk, computer, and a whole lot of file drawers. Apparently she hit her head on the corner of one that was open as she fell. She was certainly a well-organized person. Each file was labeled, and the contents in one of those paper folders with the clips.“
    “That’s obsessive,“ Jane commented.
    Shelley bridled. “No, it’s not. I do that. Haven’t you ever reached into a file and thought you pulled everything out, but left behind a small paper that fell out of the bunch?”
    Jane didn’t dare comment on Shelley’s remark. Shelley herself was pretty obsessive. Instead, she asked Mel, “How do you know she was attacked? Maybe she just tripped and fell.“
    “Signs of a struggle,“ Mel said shortly. “Short and violent, as if the attacker was as surprised as she was.“
    “How did he—or she—get in the house?“ Shelley asked.
    “The back door was unlocked. Just like both of yours probably are.”
    Jane and Shelley exchanged guilty glances.
    “You said the attacker was probably surprised,“ Jane said. “How do you know that?“
    “I don’t know for sure. I’m speculating. Her sister and the sister’s husband are staying with her and left the house this morning to go into Chicago. The sister looks a lot like Ms. Jackson. If someone were watching for the house to be empty, he might have thought it was Ms. Jackson leaving with a man.“
    “Was it just a burglary then?“
    “Maybe it was intended to be, but there was no sign of anything missing from the rest of the house and she has a nice collection of expensive, hockable little things in open cabinets. The desk in the basement was messed up, papers strewn every which way, but that might have been a result of a struggle.“
    “Maybe the burglar got too scared to start his work,“ Shelley said.
    “But who would go to the basement before scooping up the good stuff on the ground floor?“ Jane asked.
    “Exactly,“ Mel replied, helping himself to some of Jane’s crackers and cheese.
    Before they could ask what he meant by that, he added, “I have a man coming to fingerprint the two of you.“
    “Why us?“ Shelley asked indignantly.
    “Elimination. The envelope on the flower arrangement is covered with prints. I suspect they all belong to you and the proprietor of the flower shop. But the person who sent them might have handled the envelope as well. And we still have to figure out the scorch marks.”
    Shelley sighed loudly and owned up. “I did that. I’d misread the name on the envelope and thought they were for Jane since they were delivered to her house. When I couldn’t catch up with her, I tried to read the note by putting the envelope on a lightbulb.“
    “Now you tell me!“
    “Mel, do you think that flower delivery had