Page 91 of Too Old for This

I have to keep digging, trying to figure out what he knows and what kind of evidence he might have. It’s not as if I can ask him straight out. He and Norma have already talked about this, which leaves me trying to ask without asking.

And in the back of my mind: the finger. I can’t stop thinking about it.

After Morgan left, I brought it into the garage and smashed it with my hammer. Pulverized it. I wrapped it in butcher paper, labeled it asLiver, and buried it under the rest of Norma’s body parts. Even if someone found it, no one would know what it really was.

Except me. That finger has been wriggling around in my mind all day. It was there when I woke up. It was there when I made coffee. It scared me half to death when I was in the shower. Now, here it is again, popping into my head and making me cringe when I’m trying to concentrate on Burke.

Back to the phone. The more I text with him, the more I get used to being Norma. That’s something I always have to remember so I don’t screw up. The only thing we really had in common was Plum. Norma started Plum’s life, and I ended it.

Norma:She was my daughter, not yours!

Burke:I understand that.

Norma:Then stop trying to order me around.

Burke:I’m trying to help.

Norma:I know, and I appreciate that. But you aren’t here. You don’t see it like I do.

Burke:Just be careful. We’re getting so close.

Are we, though?

Does Burke have a plan beyond making Norma hang around Baycliff, trying to talk to me? Because it doesn’t feel like he does.

Which means I must be missing something. Burke has already surprised me once, and I’d be a fool to believe he can’t do it again.

I stand up from the table and stretch. The hotel room looks messy enough, I’ve poured out her supply of booze and eatenthe snacks to make it look like she’s been here. The downside of this setup is leaving Norma’s phone in the room. It would be a lot more convenient if I didn’t have to, but technology makes that impossible.

I stuff it inside her suitcase and leave. Hat on, head down, back out to the parking lot. My next stop is the grocery store.

If I show up at church tonight with another party tray, Sheila and Bonnie might consider having me committed. Today, I look around at all the other precooked offerings. They have a bit of everything, from fried chicken to pho to all sorts of salads and pastas.

The party tray was a little cheap, I admit. Sheila said it was alow-effortcontribution. I think that’s a good thing, because I’m too old to try and impress anyone, but maybe I went a bit overboard.

For tonight, I buy the sushi platter.

—

It’s a relief to be back at church.

I’ve been going to First Covenant for a long time. It wasn’t my first church, though. I started looking for one back when Archie left for college. Three nights went by before I felt how big and empty the house was. Every evening, I walked around the whole house, eventually ending up in Archie’s room. I was unprepared for how alone I would feel.

Church seemed like a good place to look for a new group of friends and some companionship. The first one I tried was called New Hope. It had such an upbeat, positive name. I wanted to find people like me. Well, notexactlylike me, but some middle-aged or older people whose children were grownand gone. Unfortunately, New Hope was filled with lots and lots of young couples. The kind who either side-eyed me or asked if I was a widow.

From there, I moved on to CrossPoint Church, Our Lady of Peace, and Holy Redeemer. I really wanted that last one to work out because I loved the name, but no such luck. That church was one big clique, and they didn’t like outsiders.

First Covenant was last on my list. Otherwise, I would’ve been forced to drive into other towns. Pastor Doug wasn’t around yet. Pastor Matthew’s hair had already turned white, and he reminded me of Santa Claus. He had a booming voice that reverberated throughout the church, as if God really was speaking through him. Afterward, I thanked him for his words. He clasped my hand in both of his.

“You haven’t been here before,” he said.

“First time.”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “A pleasure to meet you.”

When I stepped away, I almost ran right into Sheila and Bonnie. They were standing together outside, and Bonnie was smoking a cigarette. She was wearing a mauve dress with a jagged hem, and her hair was still blond. Sheila was more fashionable, of course. She wore a bright turquoise blouse, a striped skirt, and a headband.

“Did he flirt with you?” Bonnie asked.