Estelle smiled even as her eyes filled with tears. How could she stand it if something happened to this wonderful man?
She didn’t have long to dwell on the macabre, though. The doorbell sounded, and she rose to answer it. Sally Hunter stood on the porch, her eyes wide.
“Is everything all right? The police were over earlier, and they were asking all kinds of questions, and then they wanted to know if we’d seen anyone put something in your garbage bin. What’s going on?”
Estelle took a deep breath, relieved that the police hadn’t used the words ‘dead body’ or ‘Sam is a murderer’ when talking to the neighbors. “It’s nothing, really. We’re not at liberty to discuss it, but it should all be resolved soon.” She sounded a bit like Matlock. She was proud of herself.
“Well, are you sure?” Sally looked disappointed. “If there’s anything you need, you’ll let me know?”
“Absolutely.”
After a friendly farewell, Sally went home, and Estelle returned to the table. “What did I miss?”
“I took a second helping of everything.”
“You did? I was only gone a few minutes.”
“I was hungry.”
Estelle indulgently watched Sam shovel in his next bite of salad. He could eat the whole table, for all she cared—she was just so glad he was home.
Two more neighbors showed up before the cheesecake was served, and Estelle was getting tired of practicing forced diplomacy. Maybe she should make a sign and hang it on the door so she wouldn’t have to keep repeating herself.
Sam helped her load the dishwasher, then headed upstairs to take a long, hot shower. Estelle cut a nice wedge of cheesecake and put it in a sealable plastic container for Vera, then set it on the top shelf of the fridge next to the other leftovers. Then she gathered up Sam’s dirty clothes from the bedroom floor where he’d dropped them, and took them down to the laundry room, along with the hamper from the bathroom. Might as well get a start on the next day’s chores—she was wound tight and knew it would be hours before she’d be able to go to sleep. Laundry, and then maybe even ironing. Might as well be a productive uptight insomniac.
As she neared the laundry room door, she heard a sound. She froze, listening hard. There it was again—a kind of scuffle. No broom would do this time—it was a larger intruder.
She put down the hamper and quietly stepped over to the counter, where her knife block stood handy. She pulled out the biggest, scariest butcher knife she had and held it like Anthony Perkins in Psycho. She couldn’t remember his character’s name, but she supposed it didn’t matter. She could Google it later, after she caught the murderer in her laundry room. It crossed her mind to wait for Sam, but he wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion.
She turned the door knob slowly, then flung the door open, shouting “Aha!” and brandishing her knife.
Her son, Andrew, sitting on top of the dryer and holding a container of cheesecake, startled. The dessert tumbled down his necktie and landed in his lap.
“Mom, you scared me! What are you doing?”
Estelle lowered her knife. “Well, you scared me! What are you doing here? And why are you hiding in the laundry room eating cheesecake?”
“This happens to be very good cheesecake.”
“I know. I’m proud of my cheesecake. But why are you hiding in the laundry room?”
Andrew scooped the food off his lap and put it back in the container. Then he grabbed a clean dishcloth from the top of the washer where it waited to be put away and dabbed the cherries off his fingers. “I kept hearing voices out there. I thought I’d better wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“For everyone to go away.”
Estelle sighed. “I don’t understand. Would you please come out? I’ve never had a conversation in a laundry room before, and it’s very distressing.”
Andrew followed her out to the kitchen and took a seat on a barstool at the counter. He set the cheesecake down in front of him, and Estelle focused on it for the first time. “That was for Vera,” she said.
“Oh. Well, it was right in front, and it was handy. I’m starving.”
“How long have you been in the house?”
“I snuck in just before Vera brought your groceries.”
Estelle looked at him with astonishment. “Heaven’s sake! That was hours ago. Will you please tell me what’s going on? You’re supposed to be up at Capitol Hill…” She suddenly put two and two together. “Oh, Andrew. Don’t tell me you’re here because of the senator.”
He nodded. “I am, and I’ll tell you everything, but can you please feed me? I was only able to grab a little bit of cheesecake, and now it’s all linty.”
Estelle heard the shower water stop. She walked over to the base of the stairs and yelled, “Sam, Andrew’s here.” Then she put a large portion of lasagna on a plate, microwaved it, and added salad and bread. She set it in front of her son, then cut Vera a fresh piece of cheesecake. The whole time, her brain whirled. Andrew couldn’t be involved in this, could he? Just because he was an intern on Capitol Hill, just because he rubbed elbows with politicians all day, just because the senator was found in their garbage, Andrew couldn’t be involved. If he was, wouldn’t the senator be in Andrew’s garbage at his own apartment forty miles away?
Sam toddled down the stairs in his robe and slippers, and waited with Estelle while Andrew packed away his dinner. Estelle was glad to see Andrew eating protein—the cheesecake had to be wreaking havoc on his blood sugar, and his last doctor’s visit hadn’t gone well.
Finally satisfied after two more helpings, Andrew pushed back his plate. “Well, so, you want to know what’s going on?”
“Yes!” Sam and Estelle said in unison.
“Son, I don’t know if you realize this, but I spent all day at police headquarters being questioned. I very much would like to get to the bottom of our family’s involvement in this case,” Sam told him.
Andrew sighed. “I’ve been working in Senator Beckham’s office for the last month, like I told you last week, when I called you on the phone, because I’m a good son and keep in touch with my parents—remember that part—and then I sort of got into a fight with him and he let me go.”
“Oh, dear.” Estelle shook her head.
“But then Senator Caldwell saw me leaving the senate building. He asked where I was going, with all my stuff, and I told him I’d been sacked. He asked me to come work in his office. And he asked me…well, you remember what a good son I am, and by extension, what a good person?”
“One doesn’t necessarily guarantee the other, but go on,” Sam said, his tone suspicious.
Andrew took a deep breath. “Caldwell asked me if I knew anything incriminating about Beckham that could be used against him. Caldwell was trying to put through a new environmental bill, and Beckham was opposing it. Caldwell thought he could encourage Beckham to drop his opposition if he knew a little something he shouldn’t.”
“You helped Caldwell blackmail Beckham?” Estelle couldn’t believe it. Her little boy, her little blond boy, who used to wear overalls and catch frogs, was now blackmailing politicians?
“Caldwell’s bill was a good one, Mom. It really should have gone through. And maybe now someone else will pick it up.”
“Good bill or not, you shouldn’t have done what you did,” Sam said. “And this puts a whole