Ladybird chattered on. “Which is why in the end, I think he divorced her instead of bumping her off. I think he was afraid of getting caught, not that he ever said, but it’s a hunch.” Ladybird sighed, fluttered her eyelashes dreamily. “Oh, but the nights we sat up planning her murder; it was such great fun. Horace had some excellent suggestions, too.”
Max sputtered, then set down her own sandwich in case she actually caused herself bodily harm.
“I said he should buy a wood chipper,” Ladybird went on with her soliloquy, not even noticing that Max was biting her lower lip. “Use it every weekend, I told him, for, oh, say two to three months beforehand. Then nobody would think a thing of it when he chopped her up and fed her through the chipper. I thought it was a marvelous idea. Witt said he preferred taking her to the cemetery and burying her in the bottom of a grave that was going to be filled the next day. He said the mob does that kind of thing all the time.” She tipped her head to one side and sighed. “In the end, he just divorced her. Much less dramatic, but certainly just as effective. He hasn’t heard from her since.”
“How utterly boring.” Max simply couldn’t resist.
Ladybird, eyes bright with laughter, patted her hand. “I knew you’d understand.” She popped the last bite of sandwich in her mouth and talked around it, lips barely moving as she spoke. “It was really the children that did it in the end.”
“Children?”
“Yes. Witt wanted them. She said they didn’t have enough money. I know it was because she didn’t want to ruin her figure.”
Children and babies. The words were coming up a bit too often for Max’s peace of mind. “I thought he divorced her because she asked him to sit down when he took a leak.”
Ladybird pursed her lips and gave the idea her total consideration. “Well, there was that, but I really think he made up his mind when he found out she’d had that abortion.”
“Abortion?” Max repeated. It was all she could say.
“Oh my, yes. Without even telling him she was pregnant.”
Max felt the sudden stab of intrusion into Witt’s life. It was one thing eavesdropping on his minor marital squabbles and murder plots, but this was ... invasive. Nor did she want to hear about Debbie Doodoo’s abortion.
Still, there was no doubt that Ladybird had handed her the perfect weapon if Witt got too serious about this supposed “relationship.” Witt wanted children. Max could never have them. A nice little tidbit to keep around for when it was needed, but she felt a little slimy for knowing it without Witt having been the one to tell her.
Max felt far more comfortable talking about murder. “Tell me, Ladybird, doesn’t it worry you being here all alone when someone was killed right next door?”
It certainly wasn’t a smooth segue into another less personal topic, but Ladybird didn’t even look askance. “It’s very exciting, isn’t it? Shall I tell you what I learned at the grocery store?”
Ladybird’s excitement set her nerves jangling. Did the little lady see herself as the Jessica Fletcher of Garden Street? Oh yes, Witt was really going to bump Max off for sure, encouraging his mother as she was. But hey, what was one more reason added to his already lengthy list? “By all means, Ladybird, tell me.”
“Well, Mabel is friends with Barbara, who’s friends with Ingrid, and Ingrid knows the mother of that boy who used to do a lot of the deliveries for the Spring girl.”
“Deliveries?” The rush of names overwhelmed Max.
“Yes, you know, her business, delivering medicine and groceries or whatever it is that a housebound person might need. Didn’t I tell you last night?”
For the life of her, Max couldn’t remember what Ladybird had told her last night except that she spoke to her husband Horace. “Oh yes.”
“Well, that boy, Freddie I think his name is, broke down and cried, at least that’s what his mama told everyone. But those kids were down at the store on their bikes, cutting school like usual, and Freddie was there telling everyone he was glad the cheap fat bitch was dead.” Ladybird sat back like the cat who ate the canary and beamed at Max.
Max realized now exactly why nothing she ever said seemed to shock Witt. Piss him off, yes, but shock, no. With a mother like Ladybird, he was used to anything. “Freddie might have been boasting to impress his friends.”
“Or he could be a ruthless killer. Remember that movie The Bad Seed? He could be another Rhoda.”
The Bad Seed? Rhoda? Ah yes, she remembered, the one with the merciless villain being an eight-year-old child. “What would his motive be?” Rhoda had wanted the penmanship pin.
“She might have stiffed him his salary. You know how those gang members are. It doesn’t take much to set them off.”
Somehow Max couldn’t picture kids on their ten-speeds at the grocery store as a gang. “I think he might have been trying to save face with his friends, Ladybird.”
“Well, I have that nice Detective McKaverty’s number, and I’m going to give him a call to let him know. I’m part of the neighborhood watch, you know.”
It was a terrifying prospect.
“Be sure you let the police handle all this. Poking around on your own can be dangerous.”