“I know who you are, dear,” she said. “Michael said you might show up. Well, not you specifically, but someone from his company.”
“That’s actually who I came in looking for,” I said.
“Well, you won’t find him here. I sent him on his way. Police detective!” She trilled a little laugh.
“That’s good,” I said. “I was afraid maybe you shot him.”
I was trapped between her and the yard gnome by the stairs. Why would someone put a yard gnome by their stairs?
“I’ve baked an apple pie, Alfred. Would you like a slice?”
“I’m not really that hungry.”
“I insist.”
“I guess I am a little hungry.”
“After you, dear. To your left.”
I walked through the formal dining room and into the kitchen, which was decorated in a country theme, rooster figurines and Jersey cow kitchen doodads and a red and white checkered tablecloth on the table.
The pie was sitting on the sill over the sink, and steam still rose from its golden brown lace crust. My stomach rumbled. I was starving.
“Please sit down, Alfred,” she said, waving me toward the table. “A few more minutes to cool and it’s ready to slice. A la mode, dear?”
I cleared my throat. “Just the pie, ma’am. That’s fine.”
I wondered where Op Nine was. Probably scrambling around outside, looking for me, though I wondered how I missed him. Most likely he was beside himself, while I sat in Mama Arnold’s kitchen, eating pie.
“How do you know my name?” I asked.
“Michael’s told me all about you.”
“Where is Mike?”
“I have no idea, dear.”
She pulled a gallon of milk from the refrigerator and poured a big frosty glass. She set it on the table in front of me. She smelled of vanilla.
“Somebody told us you were on a cruise,” I said.
“Mike made up that story. He wanted me to leave, of course, but why would I leave? I may be old, dear, but I can take care of myself. I go for target practice twice a month.”
“Well,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say. “Eve
rybody needs a hobby.”
Right by the litter box stood another gnome. And there were gnome refrigerator door magnets and gnome figurines standing like little guards around the pie pan on the sill.
“You like gnomes,” I said.
“Gnomes keep evil spirits away.”
“You’re worried about evil spirits?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Mike’s told you what happened?”