“Yes, I think so. I didn’t know her well, but we were friendly and my mother was very close to her.”
“Oh, right, Rose’s daughter!” She rummaged in her pocket for more tissues. “My mother adored her.” This statement brought on a new round of tears.
She scrubbed her eyes, smearing mascara onto her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she said after cleaning up her makeup using a small mirror she produced from her bag. “What were you saying?”
I reminded her about the statement.
“Oh, yeah. I’d given my father an alibi for the morning of my mother’s . . . death.” More tears but not as many.
“And then you changed your statement?”
She nodded while she looked for more tissues.
“I know he didn’t hurt her, but after I talked to Tish, I just couldn’t lie anymore.”
“Tish? What does she have to do with this?”
Alison seemed to be gaining control of the tears. She took a deep shuddering breath. “She stopped at my apartment to tell me how sorry she was about my mother, but also to say she had been in contact with her and that she said I should always be truthful.” Alison’s eyes were wide and sincere.
“Tish told you your mother wanted you to be honest? So you came to the police station and changed your statement, removing your father’s alibi?”
She nodded. “I just wanted to protect him. I know he wasn’t at my mother’s house that morning, but I couldn’t lie anymore and say he was with me.” She gestured with her wad of tissues. “Her death has to have something to do with whoever was tormenting her on the Internet.”
I was completely lost and must have looked it.
Alison took a couple of bracing breaths. “There was someone who was threatening my mother through her website with comments on her blog. Whoever it was accused her of putting on a show to cover her lack of talent. They said she should stop doing séances or face the consequences. At first she just shrugged it off, but I know it started to bother her. That’s who they should be looking for; my father didn’t do anything.” This led to another round of sniffles and eye-dabbing.
“What happened when you changed your statement?” I feared my question would set her off again, but I had to find out how much trouble Tish had caused.
“My dad is scared. He won’t reveal his alibi, and since we lied, they think he did it and that I was protecting him. He’s facing murder charges, and they’re deciding whether to charge me as an accessory—to my own mother’s murder!” She began sobbing in earnest, and all I could do was gently pat her shoulder and murmur soothing lies about how it would all work out.
*
That night, Seth and I stood near the back porch steps and played fetch with Tuffy. It had been a tough day for all of us. Tuffy was no longer welcome in the house without an escort. He may or may not have been visited by his dead owner. Sara had accused someone of murder at her last séance, only we didn’t know who. Tish was acting strangely, and my mother was keeping something from me. Seth was sulky and I didn’t know if that was normal teenage behavior or some other thing to worry about, and Milo (Stark) Jones was back in town.
“What do you think will happen to Tuffy?” Seth interrupted my morose thoughts with his own brand of doom and gloom.
“I don’t know. Gary can’t take him right now, and it doesn’t sound like Alison will want him. I’m not really up on the custody rules with dogs. Maybe they’ll interview him and let him decide.” I tried for a smile, but Seth seemed to take this suggestion seriously.
“I hope he picks me. I really like him.” Seth kicked at the grass. “I’ve never had a dog.”
“We’ll have to wait and see what happens, Seth. I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.”
“I don’t think Gary did it. But I also don’t think Tuffy would want to live with him.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know.” He continued to study the ground.
“Well, Tuffy didn’t seem that happy to see him, I’ll give you that. But he was never happy to see anyone, except Sara and you.”
“Vi says it was probably Gary, but she never liked Gary and she lets it color what she thinks,” he said to his shoe.
“She does have strong opinions. . . .”
“Well, you can’t let your opinions influence what the animals are trying to tell you.”
I turned to look at him in the fading light. His face was turned away from me, watching Tuffy follow the scent of a rabbit or squirrel, which was hours old but still entertaining.
“Who do you think did it, Seth?”
He shrugged. “But whoever it was scared Tuffy to death.”
15