What Now My Love Read online

"Harry, what happened?"

  No answer.

  "Was he giving you a hard time?"

  A shrug.

  The sandwiches were ready. She filled soup bowls, framed them with sandwich triangles, and set both plates on the table. "Eat. And then we will talk about this. Or I will call Armbruster and tell him you need to see a counselor."

  He ate.

  They moved to the living room and Harry settled into a corner of the sofa. She wanted to sit next to him, to hold and soothe him, but knew the time wasn't right. Will it ever be? I'd hoped we could build something together, but now...

  "All he said was did I have a good time on detached duty. He wasn't being sarcastic or anything, but it just hit me wrong. Good time? God, Em, I saw two kids die from beatings, lost a friend—did you know they tortured Stan before they killed him? And for nothing. His only assignment was to relay my messages to Ma... to Jim. You don't want to know what terrible things I saw, even had to help with, so I wouldn't blow my cover. Those poor kids—

  "I'm still not sure what gave me away. I know Stan didn't rat me out. He didn't know my real name, but somehow they learned it. I don't think they know where I came from, but there's always the possibility. Last night I saw someone on the sidewalk in front of the apartment. Just pacing back and forth. And it...

  "I'm scared, Em. Scared shitless. Me, the big brave cop." He buried his face in his hands.

  If this wasn't the right time, there never would be one. Emaline crossed to the sofa and took him into her arms. "Being scared is okay. You'd be foolish not to be. And being angry is okay, too. I get angry myself, when I think of what you were doing, what you and the others in your task force were working to end. But it's over, Harry, and you need to come to terms with it all. You're still a good cop, and you can—"

  "No, I don't think I can. I don't think I'm a good cop anymore. And if I'm not a good cop, I'm not anything."

  Her fingers, stroking his cheek, were wet with his tears. "Harry, there are all sorts of cops. Maybe it's time you did something besides violent crimes. Aren't there other jobs you could do?"

  Another shrug.

  "Well, you don't have to decide today, or even this week. You said you've got nearly a month of vacation saved up. Use it. You can help me paint the house. Being unemployed, I can't afford to hire someone." She could, but she'd do anything, even paint a house, to help Harry.

  "I don't know..."

  "Neither do I, but as I said, you don't need to decide anything today. Now, tell me about Bill. Fenwick, you said? How did you find him?"

  "Pure luck. A friend of mine's on the force in L.A. and it turned out he had a cousin who worked for ThermCold before he retired. The cousin knew someone who worked in HR, and he discovered they still had the old records from AeroSyph in storage. Knowing the approximate date of death made it easy. William Fenwick was the regional sales manager, and he died of a heart attack at his desk."

  "When?"

  "September 2, 1941. The day after Labor Day. Just a couple of weeks after he sent that last postcard."

  "And a little over a month after she sent him cookies."

  "You're sure she only sent one batch?"

  Emaline could only gape. At last she found her voice. "Oh, no. Could she have sent a second batch?"

  "We'll never know. But if I were a betting man..."

  "Yes. I'd bet on it too. She poisoned him, Harry. My sweet Aunt Tilly killed a man."

  "Yes, I think she did. And got away with it."

  Emaline began to laugh. She couldn't stop, not until Harry shook her.

  "Stop! It's not that funny."

  Taking a series of deep breaths, she slowly got herself under control. "No, it's not. I don't know why I laughed."

  But she did know. Aunt Tilly wasn't the only member of the Banister family with a penchant for poison.

  About the Author

  Jaye Watson is the alter ego of a sweet little old lady who doesn't want her grandchildren to know what dark and bloody thoughts she harbors in her heart of hearts. She would rather write about serial killers than romantic lovers, and much prefers a good treatise on deadly poisons to any collection of homestyle recipes. For amusement, Jaye plots new and different ways to kill off the people who cut in front of her in grocery lines and crowd her on the freeway.

  Visit her website (www.jayewatson.com) for information about other Emaline Banister mysteries, all of which are available from Uncial Press and most other ebooksellers.

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  What Now My Love...

  About the Author