"Why else do you think I'd offer to bet?" Greg asked.

The joke ended being on him, though.

The register totals were so far out of balance that he ended up cleaning the dining room after he finished the kitchen. It was the only way he could be sure that I'd be free to go home with him. At least he was a good sport about the whole thing.

Unfortunately, our dinner together at home was about to be delayed by another development that we didn't know about yet.

Chapter 14.

Someone was sitting on our front porch when we arrived home, and I grabbed Greg's arm before he pulled into our driveway. "Somebody's sitting there in the dark waiting for us," I said.

"Should I call the police?" Greg asked as he reached for his cellphone.

"I'm not sure. I'd really like to see who it is first."

My husband shook his head. "Victoria, this isn't the time to be taking any chances. There's a murderer loose in town, and I don't want us to be the next victims."

"Back up first and shine your headlights onto the porch," I said. "Hang on. There's no need to do that after all. Whoever was just sitting there moved." As the motion-detecting light kicked on, I took a deep breath. "There's no need to call the police, Greg. It's just Ellen."

"What's she doing here?" my husband asked me.

"I don't know. Why don't you go ahead and pull in? Once you park the car, we can ask her ourselves."

"I can do that," Greg said.

Ellen walked toward us once we parked, and by the time I got out of the car, she was at my door. "Hey there. What brings you here?"

"Victoria, I need to talk to you," she said solemnly.

"Fine. I'm all yours. Would you like to come in?"

Ellen shook her head. "Could we just sit out on the porch?"

"Sure thing," I said.

Greg smiled at Ellen, and then he said, "If you two will excuse me, I'll get started on dinner. Ellen, you're more than welcome to stay and eat with us. I always make too much, anyway."

"Thanks, but Mom already fed me," she said.

"Then I'll leave you to it," he said as he went inside. Greg knew when I needed some privacy, and he always respected it when I was working on a murder case.

"Now, what's going on?"

"I'm worried about everyone around me," Ellen said, the words tumbling out of her in a rush.

"Is there anything in particular that's bothering you?"

"Mom and Dad are both acting so weird that it's like I don't even know them anymore. Add that to Wayne's posturing around Gordon, and I'm under more stress right now than any one woman should have to endure."

"How are the kids holding up?" I asked.

"They just lost their father, so they're both upset, but Gordon hasn't really been all that much a factor in their daily lives for years, so they're having trouble dealing with it. It's almost as though it happened to a stranger; do you know what I mean?"

"Honestly, I don't have a clue. I've never been in that kind of position before."

"And you never want to be, either. They're both strong. They'll bounce back, once a little time has pa.s.sed. I just wish that I could say the same thing about myself."

"You're tough, too. Never forget that. It hasn't been easy what you've been doing over the past several years. You've held it together better than I ever would have managed."

"Victoria, you're the strongest woman I know. You would have handled things just fine on your own."

"I'm not at all sure that's true, but I appreciate hearing that you believe it. So, tell me a little more about your folks, and Wayne, too. What exactly is going on with them?"

"Mom and Dad are both tiptoeing around each other, and it's taken me a while to figure it out, but I think I know why."

I had my own suspicions about their behavior, but I decided not to share them and find out what conclusion Ellen had reached on her own.

"Tell me," I said.

"I believe that they each think the other one might have done it," she said.

"That's what I think, too," I said.

Ellen looked at me sharply. "You've seen it, too?"

"You know that your mother confessed to killing Gordon already, don't you?"

She was shocked by the mere suggestion. "Please tell me that you're kidding."

"I wish I could," I said as I relayed the details of what had happened to her. "She couldn't remember how she killed him, though."

"He was struck from behind with a pipe," Ellen said. "You'd think that would be kind of hard to forget, especially if you're the one who did it."

"I'm sure that her confession was motivated by love," I said. "She was just trying to protect you."

"How, by making me look guilty?" Ellen asked. "That's just like Mom, trying to take every bullet that's meant for me."

"Both of your parents love you," I said.

"I know they do. As a matter of fact, I'm surprised that Dad hasn't confessed, too."

"Maybe he was waiting until he found out what really happened to Gordon so he could get his facts straight," I said with a grin.

"You could be right," Ellen said. "Save us from our parents, right?"

"I don't know. I think we both got pretty lucky in that respect."

"So do I," Ellen said.

"Tell me about Wayne," I suggested.

She let out a grunt of frustration. "He's been trying to be macho ever since Gordon first hit him. I think the blow to his pride stung a lot more than the punch. I'm concerned that he might have done something drastic to regain his self-respect. The day Gordon was murdered, I tried to tell Wayne that I didn't care if he could win a fistfight or not, but I don't think that he believed me."

"You told me earlier that you were with him the afternoon of the murder. Do you remember what time it might have been?" Ellen had some rather large holes in her alibi, significant time that she'd spent alone on the day of the murder.

"Like I said before, I had Dad pick the kids up," she admitted. "I've been doing that every so often so that Wayne and I could have some time together. I've been putting together some nice picnic baskets, and we've been stealing a little time together every day."

"Ellen, this is very important. When exactly did you see him the day Gordon was murdered?"

She thought about it for nearly thirty seconds before she answered, and then she said, "We got together about one forty five, and Wayne had to get back to the shop by three fifteen. Normally he's never gone that long, but I needed him that day, and he was willing to take some extra time off so I could talk things out."

"That's wonderful news," I said as I reached for my cellphone.

"Yes, he's an excellent shoulder to cry on." She looked at me oddly as I started to dial. "What's going on? Who are you going to call and tell that to?"

"I'm phoning the sheriff. This is perfect. It's going to take you two off his list."

"I don't understand," Ellen said.

"They've been able to narrow the window for Gordon's murder since the last time we spoke. He was killed between two and three in the afternoon, and from what you said, you two were together the entire time. There's just one thing before I call the sheriff and tell him, though. Is there anyone else who can substantiate the fact that you two were together the entire time?"

Ellen frowned as she thought about it. "We were at the park, so I doubt that anyone could verify it one way or the other. Sorry. I'm not going to be able to do you much good."

That was disappointing, but I wasn't ready to give up yet. "Think hard, Ellen. That park is never empty, especially on a beautiful afternoon like the day of the murder was. Are you telling me that no one can confirm that you were there together?"

"No one," she said, and then Ellen frowned. "Hang on a second. That's not entirely true. There's one witness who was near us the entire time. Whether she noticed us at all is up for debate, though."

"What's her name?" I asked. This could be the one crucial piece of evidence that would get her off the hook.

"It was Crazy Betty," she said. "She was doing crossword puzzles on the bench closest to our picnic blanket the entire time. You know how obsessed she gets over things."

I did, indeed. Betty Cliburn, affectionately known as Crazy Betty around town, had a streak of obsessive/compulsive disorder that was just below the level requiring medication. When she narrowed her laser focus to a new hobby or interest, she lived and breathed it with everything that she had. Then one day, without rhyme or reason, she'd drop it cold and never revisit it again. So far, she'd knitted until her fingers bled, read everything written by a dozen different cozy mystery authors, and she was now going through crossword puzzles in a blaze of speed. "It's how she copes with Cliff's death," I said. "Betty has never really learned how to get along without him."

"I don't know if she saw us or not, but we were there, Victoria."

"I'm sure the sheriff can track her down and ask her," I said. "You don't have any objections about me calling him, do you?"

"Are you kidding? If you can get me off his list of murder suspects, I'll sing your praises to the world, and I'd be forever grateful."

"Well, save your singing voice, because I haven't done anything yet," I said. "Give me one second."

I finished dialing the sheriff's number, and he finally picked up after six rings.

"Is this a bad time?" I asked him.

"No, it's fine. What's new since the last time we spoke, though? Surely nothing substantial has changed in the past half hour."

"You'd be surprised. I now have an alibi for Ellen and Wayne, but it's going to take a little legwork on your part to confirm."

"That's what we're good at," the sheriff said. "You know me. I'm not afraid of a little hard work."

"Okay, here goes. Ellen and Wayne snuck away to the park from one forty-five to three fifteen on the afternoon of the murder to have some time together. Ellen needed a shoulder to cry on, and Wayne was more than happy to supply it."

"That's all well and good, but unless someone else saw them there together, it's not going to do any of us much good."

"That's the thing. Betty Cliburn was on a park bench nearby doing her crossword puzzles. Ellen swears that the woman was there the entire time," I explained.

"She might have been sharing their blanket, but that doesn't mean that Betty saw them. You know how she gets when she's working on something."

"You're still going to ask her, though, aren't you?" I asked.

"Of course I will. I'm just saying that you shouldn't get your hopes up."

"Sorry, but it's a bit too late for that."

"I'll talk to her right now. Do you have anything else for me?"

I thought about conveying what Ellen had told me about her parents, but I really didn't have anything to share on that front yet. "Hey, you said it yourself. We haven't been apart all that long."

"You can't blame me for asking," he replied.

"Would you do me a favor?" I asked him while I still had him on the line.

"Maybe," he answered cagily. I knew the sheriff was too savvy to make a blanket promise without hearing what it was first.

"Don't worry. This is an easy one. I'd just appreciate a telephone call after you talk to Betty, one way or the other. It would be nice to know if Ellen and Wayne are off your list."

"I can do that," the sheriff said. "It might be late, though. If I can't find her tonight, I might have to ask her in the morning."

"Just as long as you let me know what's going on, we're good."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do. And Victoria?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for the tip."

"You're welcome," I said, but it was to a dead phone.

The sheriff had already hung up.

"What did he say?" Ellen asked me.