Page 11 of June's First Murder
Once inside, it took no time to set up the kitchen, since Sara Lee had wisely chosen paper plates for their sandwich supper. Then, with heartfelt goodnight hugs, they headed to their respective bedrooms.
June changed into her cotton pajamas and sat on the edge of her bed, suddenly feeling every one of her seventy-five years. She was tired. Not just physically, though her feet ached and her back protested. She was tired in her soul. It was the kind of weariness that came from watching people hurt each other, fromseeing the darkness that lived beneath pleasant surfaces.
Raymond's face kept appearing in her mind. The cruel smile. The silver flask. The way he moved through the festival, spreading pain like someone sowing poisoned seeds.
And the reactions. Horace’s frustration. Petunia’s embarrassment. Diane's terror. Lucy's fury. Helena's panic. Jerry's hatred. Bob’s anger.
She shook her head, trying to dismiss the dark thoughts. Raymond was a bully, and the way she thought bullies should be handled was to ignore them. But what happens when that’s not enough?
She sighed heavily. Tomorrow, he would leave, go back to Richmond, and everyone can return to their normal lives.
Still, as June climbed into bed and Pippi settled on her cushion next to the bed with a soft whuff, she couldn't shake the feeling of something inevitable rushing toward them like a train in the dark.
She fell asleep uneasily, her dreams troubled by images she couldn't quite remember upon waking. For now, she slept. And dreamed. And the night settled over Meadowlark Creek like a held breath, waiting for whatever would come with the dawn.
And somewhere, in another part of town, Raymond sat on a park bench in the gathering darkness, his flask in his hand, alone with his cruelty and his bourbon and the choices that had brought him to this moment.
5
SARA LEE
Sara Lee woke to a Sunday morning that dawned peaceful and perfect. She stretched, dislodging Mister Smee from his spot on her pillow, and smiled at the memory of yesterday… Carl's hand in hers, his shy invitation to the Solstice dinner, the way her heart had unexpectedly flipped when he smiled at her.
She dressed in a pale yellow sundress suitable for church, paired with a short-sleeved button-up sweater, and headed downstairs. Nana June was already in the kitchen, dressed in a long, colorful skirt and a crisp blue blouse, her hair neatly styled. A pot of coffee sat in the coffee maker, filling the house with its rich aroma.
"Morning, sweetheart," Nana June said, pouring two mugs. "Sleep well?"
"Like a rock." Sara Lee gratefully accepted the coffee, adding cream and sugar. "You?"
"Well enough." Nana June's expression was thoughtful as she gazed out the kitchen window at theirback garden. "Though I had the strangest dreams. Nothing I can quite remember now."
They ate a quick breakfast of toast and jam, since neither of them liked heavy meals before church. Pippi crunched her kibble, and Mister Smee wound between their legs, purring his demands for attention.
"We should take Pippi for a quick walk before service," Nana June suggested. "She's been cooped up since yesterday morning."
"Good idea. We have time."
As she gathered Pippi's leash, Mister Smee walked over and yowled. “Not this time,” Nana June said. “You can go to the library with us later.”
They headed out into the sunshine, leaving Mister Smee staring reproachfully at them from the living room window. The air was already warm but not yet oppressive, carrying the scent of honeysuckle and freshly cut grass. Meadowlark Creek on a Sunday morning was quiet and peaceful, with most of the town still sleeping off yesterday's festival or getting ready for church.
Sara Lee felt a deep contentment as they walked, Pippi trotting ahead with her ears bouncing. This was her favorite kind of morning… simple, easy, the world feeling right and good.
"Let's cut through the park," Nana June suggested. "We can see if there is anything from the festival that didn’t get cleaned up.”
It wasn’t their usual walk, but Sara Lee agreed Pippi would enjoy the park. As they walked along, it was evident the festival volunteers had done an excellentcleanup job, finding only an occasional stray cup or napkin in the grass. The sidewalk was still covered with the children’s colorful chalk artwork, and the gazebo was still draped in bunting. But mostly, the park was tidy, evidence of the volunteer crew that had worked late into the night.
Pippi pulled toward the bandstand area, nose to the ground, tracking some scent with determined focus. “Let her go where she’d like to sniff,” Nana June instructed.
She let Pippi take the lead, and she followed, enjoying the morning sun on her face, thinking about nothing more pressing than whether she'd see Carl that afternoon.
Pippi stopped suddenly, let out a growl, then started barking. Not her usual happy bark, but with urgency. The dog pulled hard on the leash toward one of the benches near the bandstand. Looking over, they could see someone sitting on the bench.
"Pippi, stop," Sara Lee called, but the dog ignored her, barking louder.
Nana June's expression shifted to concern. "She wants to go to the bench. Let’s see who that is."
They walked closer, and Sara Lee saw that the figure was not just someone enjoying a morning in the park. Their posture indicated they were sleeping.Sleeping through Pippi’s insistent barking?
