Old Bones: a Hetty Fox Cozy Mystery (Hetty Fox Cozy Mysteries Book 2) Read Free Page B

house. She looked to be in her very early twenties and was in obvious distress. Without even casting a glance in my direction, she looked to Laura and howled, “It’s never going to work.”
    I glanced from her to Laura to see if I should be concerned.
    “Nonsense,” Laura said, smiling. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see.” Turning to me, she added, “Becky, I’d like you to meet Hetty Fox. She’s a fellow knitter and a handy woman to know.”
    The young woman’s jaw dropped as she realized that she wasn’t the only guest in Laura’s living room. “I’m so sorry,” she said, with a pretty blush making its way across her round cheeks.
    Laura turned my way. “Hetty, this is my cousin, Becky King.
    The girl stuck out a hand. “Mrs. Fox, it’s very nice to meet you.”
    I smiled and echoed the sentiment. Her face was broad, her features  plain, but she had very kind eyes. “Call me Hetty, please.”
    She nodded. “Will do,”
    I glanced back at Laura. “I’d better be going.”
    “Thanks for taking on this knitting group thing.”
    “I only hope I won’t let you down.”
    Laura smiled reassuringly. “You’re a very smart lady. I have every confidence in you.”
    I nodded my farewells and left the two women there to sort out whatever problem was so troubling Becky.
     

CHAPTER THREE
     
     
    T he next few days passed in a blur of frustration. Valerie Hicks, I learned, was out of town. My efforts to negotiate a settlement in the knitting dispute had to be placed on hold temporarily. Andrew continued to sulk over my refusal to pursue this latest murder. Even dear Blackie seemed out of sorts. So when my phone rang one late afternoon, a few days later, I answered the call with foreboding in my heart.
    It was my daughter, Megan Langdon. “Can you come over?” she whispered.
    Hearing concern underpinning that short statement, my heart instantly leaped into overdrive. “What’s wrong?” I demanded.
    “That mummy you found? She was Damon’s aunt.”
    “Who?”
    “She is… ah… she was his Aunt Eva.”
    I frowned. “I’ve never heard Damon mention anyone called an Aunt Eva.”
    “They weren’t close. But the police are here. Poor Damon’s being grilled.” There was pure terror in her words.
    “I‘ll be right there.”
    I’d never much cared for my son-in-law. He was a little too reserved for my tastes, a little too impressed with himself, too. But he was my grandsons’ father, which sent me scurrying.
    After hanging up, I rushed through the house. I tracked down my car keys, ran a quick comb through my hair, and dashed to the garage. By the time I slid into the car, I was panting, and a thin film of perspiration had broken out on my face. After firing up the ignition, I threw the transmission into reverse and backed my car out of the garage. My tires didn’t exactly squeal, but it was close.
    Megan, too,  lived across town on the flatlands. It was a ten minute drive between our two homes. I think I almost made it to her  three-story Victorian that day in less than five minutes. Finally, standing in her kitchen, I asked, “How has this mummy been tracked back to Damon?”
    “It’s the DNA,” Megan replied. “The test shows clearly that she and Damon share an ancestor.”
    The police had probably processed Eva Langdon’s DNA to help them identify her. I shook my head. “How in the world did the police get their hands on Damon’s DNA?”
    Megan chewed her lip for a moment, then sighed.
    “As it turns out, his parents had his DNA mapped in some kind of program sponsored by the police. I think it was part of an affair while he was on Boy Scouts. He was in his early teens then, but participating meant the data would remain on file with police forever.”
    I shook my head. I’d always figured Damon had been spoiled and overprotected when he was a child. This latest information did nothing to change my mind. His parents would probably turn over in their graves to learn their son