Page 27 of Too Old for This

Self-confidence is the worst double-edged sword. Too little confidence, and you fail. Too much, and you fail in a different way. Either way, it gets me into trouble every time.

Most recently, by thinking I could pull this off. If I hadn’t screwed up with the phone, my life wouldn’t feel like it’s swirling down the toilet. An appropriate analogy, since Tula and I are standing in my downstairs bathroom.

We came straight to my house from the diner. He was insistent about it, almost crossing the line into rudeness when I mentioned that I had a few things to do today.

“Please,” he said. “Can you just show me where Kelsie was in your house? And Cole, too.”

Rather than tell him to calm down, I reached over and patted his hand. “If it will help, I’d be happy to.”

My downstairs bathroom is turquoise blue.

The counters, the tile, even the design on the floors.

This was not my choice; it was this way when I bought it.

Over the years, I’ve tried to soften it up using different-colored towels and soaps, but none of it has helped.

Most people look a bit overwhelmed when they first see it.

Tula is no exception. He stops and looks around before remembering why he is at my house.

“Kelsie was in here?” he asks.

“She and Cole both used this bathroom. Cole was also in the kitchen. That’s where we had tea and cookies.

But Kelsie and I sat in the front room the first time she showed up by herself.

The second time, I brought her into the kitchen to show her where he had been.

” I smile and nod, like I’m confirming all of this to myself.

“Although I can’t remember if I made tea for Kelsie. ”

“Did she find anything?”

“Pardon?”

“Did Kelsie find anything in the kitchen?”

“No. She looked around everywhere—even on the floor and in the corners. But she didn’t find anything. Then she went to the hall bathroom. She was in here for a long time.”

“Doing what?”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “I’ve never speculated about what people do in the bathroom, and I’m not going to start now.”

Tula’s face turns pink. “Right. Sorry. That’s not what I…Did she say anything when she came out of the bathroom?”

“Cole.” I say his name without hesitation.

“Cole?”

“Cole. Well…actually, she said more than that. She said …‘F-ing Cole.’ ”

Tula blinks at my near use of profanity. I can say that word as well as anyone else, but right now, in front of a detective, it doesn’t seem appropriate.

“Did she say anything else?” he asks.

I step back farther in the hallway, using my cane to balance. “I don’t think I can tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Kelsie was on the phone and rushing toward the door, getting all frantic about something. I asked if everything was okay. She stopped and said, ‘Yes, everything is okay.’ And then she asked if I could keep a secret.” Pause.

Big sigh. “That was almost an insult, to be honest. You can’t live as long as I have without knowing how to keep a secret. ”

Tula doesn’t interrupt. He waits. Rubs his temples. Shakes his head. It feels like he knows whatever is coming next won’t be good. That says a lot about what he thought of his partner.

He knows as well as I do that people can’t keep secrets. All you have to do is shut up long enough for them to talk.

And I do.

“She found an earring. A pearl stud.”

Tula’s eyebrows shoot up. He takes out his notepad. “An earring? Like the kind Plum was wearing?”

“Yes.”

“Did Plum use this bathroom?”

Now I smile. “Everyone has asked that. Cole, Kelsie, and now you. No, Plum wasn’t here that long. She never asked to use the bathroom.”

“So someone put it here?”

“They must have. Plum was never in here.”

Tula reaches down and swipes his finger around and behind the faucet. It comes up tinged with dark powder.

“What is that ?” I ask.

“Graphite. Kelsie must’ve tried to lift fingerprints here,” he says.

“I don’t understand.”

“Has the bathroom been cleaned since she was here?”

I think about this. Or pretend to. “I’ve straightened it up. But I haven’t done a deep scrubbing in here.”

He stares down at the sink. I would love to be an amoeba in Tula’s brain right now. So many theories to ponder.

Did Cole do something to Plum, and was he trying to implicate me?

Had he planted the earring in my house? Or perhaps Kelsie knew Cole was guilty but didn’t have evidence to prove it.

Or a body, for that matter. Maybe she lifted fingerprints to try and use them elsewhere, trying to frame him? Was that even possible?

I can’t wait to find out which theory Tula will investigate first. Not that it matters, because they’re all lies.

But I’m not done yet. This a tedious process, dropping hints and clues and waiting for Tula to pick them up.

It requires patience and subtlety. A step too far and it becomes obvious, but not far enough and he will lose interest. It’s a little frustrating, to be honest, and it’s nothing like smashing someone with a hammer.

“Was that the last time you saw Kelsie?” Tula asks. “That day she found the earring?”

“No, it was a couple days later when I stopped by her house.”

He stares at me. “You were at her home?”

“Oh, yes. She didn’t tell you? I knew her grandmother. We both lived here for so long. Though I haven’t seen her recently, not since she moved into Merrydale. Kelsie said she didn’t remember much these days.” I stop and smile. “Baycliff is a small town in so many ways, isn’t it?”

“And why did you stop by her house?” Tula says.

“Because I found the back to the earring. It was right there.” I point to the corner of the bathroom, between the vanity and the toilet.

“And I was very careful about picking it up. I put it into a little plastic sandwich bag. Since I had to run out to the store, I stopped by and gave it to her. She was a little surprised to see me on her doorstep, that’s for sure.

I suppose that was rather rude of me. But I gave her the bag, and we chatted for a few minutes. That was it.”

“And this was what day?” Tula says.

“Let me check.” I walk down the hall to the kitchen, where my wall calendar is. “That must have been…Friday.”

Behind me, Tula’s footsteps halt. “Friday?”

“Yes.”

“What time?”

“Around…seven thirty? She was wearing workout clothes, like she had been exercising or something. Still had her sneakers on.”

Tula nods. He types into his phone, maybe making a note to search for a pearl earring and the back. He is less concerned about me and more concerned about why Kelsie was hiding evidence from him.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“I’m fine, yes. Thank you. This has been very helpful.”

Tula rushes to the door and leaves. He and his confusion vanish. So does my phone problem. Always better to admit a mistake up front rather than try to hide it.