Assumption Read Free Page B

and leveled his eyes on Ogden. “She knew whoever it was.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “The killer knew the house. At least that much is true. She sure as hell didn’t tell him about her trapdoor.”
    That sounded reasonable to Ogden.
    “Ogden, after we run through this place, I want you to go through her closets, drawers, desk, papers, everything.”
    “Okay.” He wanted to climb down and look at the dead woman’s body.
    “You okay?” Paz asked.
    “Fine.”
    “You want to see?”
    Ogden nodded.
    Paz took his foot off the door and stepped back. Ogden reached down and pried his fingers into the crack and pulled up the panel. Mrs. Bickers was lying right below, her pale skin easy to see against the dark ground. A spider crawled along her thigh. Her dress was hiked up, exposing her underwear. She was there, dirt-­covered, faceup, eyes open and death-­gazing, pupils finding different lines, her throat bruised. He let the door back down.
    “Shouldn’t we pull her out?” Ogden asked.
    “Pictures first. Coroner’s on his way.”
    The men waited.
    Morning. Ogden rolled over to answer his phone. It was his mother and she’d just heard about Mrs. Bickers. He agreed with her that it was terrible thing and how it just wasn’t safe to go out of your house anymore or even stay in. “I’ll be right over,” he said to her. He dressed and also packed a bag. His mother was frightened and rightly so, an old woman alone. He would stay with her for a few days.
    Eva Walker had the door open before he was out of his truck. “You didn’t sleep,” she said.
    “I slept. I didn’t sleep well, but I slept.” He followed her into the house and took off his jacket. He glanced over at the woodstove and saw the red glow behind the glass panel.
    “But you didn’t eat.”
    “You’ve got me there. I didn’t eat. Can you help me out?” He walked behind her into the kitchen.
    “Isn’t it awful?” she said.
    “It is that.”
    “How could such a thing happen?” She pulled down the skillet and placed it on the stove. “Why?”
    Ogden shrugged. He watched as she took eggs from the refrigerator, and sausage. “It’s a cruel world out there?”
    “Any leads?” she asked.
    “What?”
    “Leads.” She dropped the sausages into the pan.
    “You’ve been watching
Columbo
again. No, not yet. No leads.”
    “Well, it’s just awful.”
    “We believe Mrs. Bickers knew whoever mur—­killed her.”
    “
Killed
doesn’t sound any better than
murdered,
” his mother said. “No fingerprints?”
    “Plenty. Including mine. Prints seldom help. At least that’s what they tell me.”
    “All I know is what I see on the television.”
    “Well, anyway,” he said. “I don’t think you need to worry.”
    She turned the meat over.
    “But I will sleep here for a couple of nights, if you don’t mind. It’ll save me a little driving.”
    She beat the eggs. “I don’t need you here. I wish somebody would try to break in here. I’d pop him with this skillet and poke him with this fork and pour hot grease on him and then I’d get mad.” She tended the food in the pan. “I didn’t know her very well. Just to say hello. Not that I ever wanted to say hello to her.”
    Ogden nodded.
    “Did she suffer?”
    “I don’t think so, Ma,” he lied.
    She removed the meat and poured the eggs into the pan. She plugged in the toaster and grabbed a loaf of whole-wheat bread. “You do want toast.”
    “Yes, thank you.”
    “Such good manners. I wonder who trained you.”
    “Some crazy woman,” he said.
    Eva put the food in front of her son, poured them both some coffee, and sat down to watch him eat. “What’s wrong, son?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You know what I mean. Something’s bothering you. Tell me what’s on your mind. It’s been eating at you for a while now.”
    “Nothing really,” he said. He sipped his coffee.
    “That’s not fair. You come in here all the time and I can see the sadness on your face and