Southern Hi-Jinks

"April showers bring May flowers, at least, that's what my lover used to tell me." I took a sip of water from the paper cup he'd offered me, delighting in the sensation of cold liquid on my parched throat. I resisted the urge to bite down on the waxy rim of the cup, a habit held over from my childhood.

"Your lover?" He leaned forward, a spark of interest in his eyes.

I hid my smile, carefully setting the cup back down on the scratched wooden table top. I could see that my comment had surprised him. 

I fixed my gaze on him, holding his stare. "A lover as illicit as a panty thief, come to rob knickers from the clothesline in the dead of the night."

He cleared his throat and sat back in his chair, his large hands resting on his knees. He sat with the confidence of a man used to getting his way, his legs wide apart and his feet flat on the linoleum floor.

"So...." he glanced down at the documents on the desk in front of him. "Edith. May I call you Edith?"

"You may." I inclined my head gracefully. Mama always told me that a lady never forgets her manners, regardless of the circumstances. 

"Can we start at the beginning?" He picked up his pen.

I shut my eyes for a moment, thinking. The beginning? Which beginning should I choose?

"Edith?" He prompted me softly, his impatience carefully reigned in and reshaped into professionalism.

I opened my eyes. "I shall start at the most recent beginning. I am 90 years old, young man. If I was to start at the very beginning we would be here until Thanksgiving."

"The recent beginning it is." He held his pen poised over the page and looked at me expectantly.

"I moved into the rest home at Maybury Ridge in June last year. It was a hot day if I recall. Too hot for much activity. The kind of day when all you want to do is lay quietly in the shade and sip on Mint Juleps."

"A year ago, then?"

"Yes, I have been at Maybury Ridge for one year. I resisted moving for several years but, unfortunately, my house got a little too much for me to handle." I sighed wistfully, thinking of my big white Georgia mansion with its wide verandahs and beautiful gardens.

"Please continue." He had finished writing and was waiting for me.

"I soon noticed a handsome man among the other residents and I do declare that he noticed me right back." I smiled at the memory. Dear, dear George. "We soon became an item. He would visit me in my room, bringing me little trinkets and gifts. Freshly picked flowers from the rose garden, little boxes of chocolates, tiny bags of candy. He was very sweet on me."

"So George Calder was your lover?"

I held his gaze steadily. "He was my lover in the truest sense of the word."

I swear that young man blushed right to the tips of his ears. He glanced at the man standing behind him and then back at me. "Did anyone else know about your affair?"

I made a little moue of distaste. "Sarah found out soon enough. Busybody that she is. Always wanting to know what was happening and who was involved."

He referred to his notes again. "Sarah Calder?"

"Yes, the one and the same. She found out and she made a terrible fuss." I leaned forward conspiratorily. "And that, officer, is why I had to murder my illicit lover's wife."