Page 25 of Little Dark Deeds (Georgiana Germaine #12)

A s I drove to Queenie’s house, questions filtered in and out of my mind, my nerves getting the best of me as I thought about the abrupt end to my phone call with Janice.

If it turned out Queenie had been murdered, I worried the killer might still be lingering around, putting Janice and Martha’s lives in imminent danger.

My fears turned to relief when I turned on Tiffany’s street and saw both women standing in front of Queenie’s house, consoling each other.

I parked and walked over.

“I apologize about our call getting cut short,” Janice said.

“A couple of police officers arrived while we were on the phone, and the first thing they did was to escort us out of Queenie’s house.

They said something about it being necessary for our own safety, but we weren’t harming anything by being there. And I would have liked to stay.”

Janice failed to see the bigger picture.

“What happened to Queenie?” I asked. “Did someone kill her?”

Janice nodded.

“The reason the police wanted you out of the house was so they could clear it,” I said, “and make sure no one else is in there. If the killer was still around when you got here ...”

I stopped myself from saying: You two could have been next .

Eyes wide, Janice pressed a hand to her chest. “My goodness, we were so caught up in the shock of finding Queenie the way we did, it never occurred to us that someone might still be in the house.”

“It’s all so ... so ... unexpected,” Martha said, wiping her nose on a handkerchief. “First Tiffany, and now Queenie. And why toss the house and not take anything?”

“Toss the house?”

“Oh, yes. It’s an absolute mess.”

An ambulance screeched to a stop in front of Queenie’s house, and behind it, Whitlock and Foley.

Both men acknowledged me with a nod as they exited the vehicle, and then they shifted their focus to Officer Higgins, who was standing in the doorway.

Foley and Whitlock made their way to him, speaking with him for a couple of minutes, and then Whitlock came over to me.

He looked at Janice and Martha and tipped his head. “Ladies.”

They acknowledged him with nods, and he turned toward me. “Been here long?”

“I arrived just before you.”

“What do you know?”

“Same as you, I expect.”

Whitlock thumbed at Queenie’s house. “Higgins just confirmed the house is clear so we can get going, and I expect Silas will be here any time now.”

“Did Higgins say anything else?”

“He confirmed Queenie was murdered.”

“Where?”

“In her bedroom.”

“How?”

“Another stabbing, though I’m not privy to all the details yet. Thought I’d touch base with you first, let you know we can go in.”

I wanted nothing more than to go over and have a look around, but I had questions first—questions only Janice and Martha could answer.

Turning toward them, I said, “I know it’s hard and you’re both in shock, but I’ve been wondering about how you came to find Queenie dead in her house.”

Martha opened her mouth to speak, whispering, “I don’t ... I don’t think I can.”

Janice draped an arm around Martha, saying, “It’s all right. Why don’t you let me do the talking?”

Martha sniffled, then nodded.

“Where would you like me to start, Detective?” Janice asked.

“I want to hear about your day today and any interactions you had with Queenie before she died,” I said.

“When I woke up this morning, I noticed Queenie’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Then, around eleven o’clock, she arrived home. I walked over to see where she’d been and what she’d been doing. She was a bit cryptic at first, though she did admit to running into you this morning.”

“Did she say anything about our conversation?”

“Not much. She acted surprised to have seen you. We chatted for a few minutes, and she said she was tired and wanted to take a nap. She suggested we get together at her house at one o’clock. We planned to watch a movie.”

“What happened next?”

“I arrived at Queenie’s house just before one o’clock, and Martha was already there. She said she’d been knocking for a minute or two, and Queenie hadn’t answered. We assumed she might still be asleep, but we weren’t sure and decided we’d better check on her.”

“How did you get into the house?”

Martha stepped back, her finger drifting toward a garden gnome posed atop a red-and-white polka-dot mushroom. “She keeps a spare key in that silly little thing. We used the key to open the door, but we didn’t go in at first.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“We thought if we barged in, we might give her a scare. We announced ourselves and waited a moment. When there was no response, we stepped inside and tried again. This time, we heard a sound we believed was coming from the bedroom.”

“Tell me about it—what did it sound like?”

“Like someone moaning, which we thought was Queenie at first, but now, knowing what we do, we think it was her cat. We followed the sound to the bedroom, and when I pushed the door open ... I ... I, well, nothing could have prepared me for seeing her in that way—in bed, her shirt stained with blood, knife sticking right out of her chest. We knew there wasn’t much hope of her being alive, but still, I checked for a pulse.

But there was just nothing . No signs of life. ”

If Janice and Martha saw Queenie at eleven, the timeline for her murder was a tight, two-hour window.

“When you called me, Janice, I was at my office,” I said. “Simone, one of the ladies who works for me, said she was here yesterday questioning the neighbors about Tiffany’s murder. They said Queenie was investigating Tiffany’s murder herself—trying to beat me and the police to solving it.”

“I’m sorry to say it’s true,” Janice said.

“We weren’t sure whether you knew or not, but once we realized Queenie was dead, we were going to tell you.

And we want you to know that we tried to warn her, tried to get her to keep an eye out but not take any action.

But as you know, Queenie wasn’t the type to take orders from anyone. ”

It was as I feared, and the cost?

Her life.

“Did Queenie share anything new about the case with you two, anything we should know about?” Whitlock asked.

“She may have been engaged in some sleuthing of her own, but she refused to talk to us about it.”

“Why?”

“She didn’t care one bit about risking her own safety, but she wasn’t about to let her meddling put us in danger too.”

“I see, which is why you weren’t with her earlier today. She was following one of Tiffany’s friends, someone she saw coming out of Tiffany’s house this morning. Did she mention him to you?”

“Not to me. Martha?”

Martha shook her head.

“Did Queenie ever mention anyone she considered to be a suspect?” I asked.

“No one. It’s like I said before, ever since we talked to you, she kept us in the dark.”

I’d gotten more out of Janice than I expected, and looking at both women, I had no desire to carry on with my questioning. After the day they’d had, they needed to relax and grieve together for their dear friend.

“Thank you for talking to us after all you’ve been through today,” I said. “We’ll leave you both to get some rest. If you need me for anything, you have my number.”

They nodded, and we said our goodbyes.

Once they were out of earshot, Whitlock turned to me. “I wasn’t aware Queenie was doing some investigating of her own.”

“I wasn’t either. I just learned about it. I knew she was fond of being involved in other people’s business. But now I believe she was a lot more involved in the case than we realized. I think she stumbled upon something, something that led to her murder.”