Chapter Twenty

Thankfully, nobody was tailing me or I would have been rear-ended when I slammed on the brakes. By the time I got turned around and pulled onto the rear of Joe's property, enough time had passed for me to consider I had imagined seeing him. But as I started out of my car, I saw Joe coming out of the garage, an overnight bag in hand and brushing against the leg of his trousers.

"Joe... It really is you," I said, a relieved smile widening my mouth.

"Of course it's me."

I wanted to throw my arms around him and give him the biggest bear hug he'd ever experienced. But I sensed something wasn't right with my dear old friend. And my relief at finally seeing him again was suddenly replaced with concern.

"I've been worried, Joe. Where have you been?"

"Where've you been," he tossed right back? "You're dressed like you're going to a funeral."

Before I could answer, or more like, before I was sure how to answer, Joe started up the backyard to the house.

For a few seconds, I remained where he left me; too stunned to move as a result of the cold in his voice, in his entire demeanor. What happened to the jolly old fellow who could make me smile no matter how terrible a day I was having? Who was this stranger?

He was jiggling the key in the back porch door lock, cussing up a storm by the time I joined him on the porch and offered to be of assistance. He took a few steps back and I slipped into the narrow space in front of him. One twist with the key and the knob turned. I pushed the door open and stepped aside so Joe could enter first.

"I was already to a funeral, Joe," I mentioned.

Weary eyes looked over into mine. "It was your brother, Thomas's."

"The old geezer's dead?"

My breath was stuck in my throat, which explained why I nodded him a yes instead of saying the word. I suppose I was holding my breath also so I wouldn't blurt out the terrible news about Ethel before he had a moment to fully absorb the news about Thomas.

I watched him shove aside dirty dishes on the table and plop his overnight bag down in their place before pulling out a chair and dropping himself into it.

Not only were their dirty dishes on the table, but they took up counter and sink space as well. The condition of the kitchen kept the news of Ethel at bay, while I wondered where Joe's new housekeeper was. And just what kind of a housekeeper was she anyway?

"Somebody shoot him or put a knife in him?"

Joe's question took me by surprise at first. But giving it some thought, I could understand why he assumed Thomas was murdered. The man had dealt with some really shady characters over the years; had made more enemies over those years than friends as well. This also made me remember Mitch's theory that Thomas might have had help sliding under the bath water. Mitch must have known the man a lot better than he ever led me to believe.

I pulled the chair out across from Joe and eased into it. "Nobody murdered Thomas. According to the coroner, he drowned in the bathtub, accidentally."

"Then the old geezer was lucky clear to the end."

It pained me to sit watching this stranger lost in private thought. So I jumped up, or started to, until the jabbing sensation in my ankle reminded me of my injury. On my second attempt to stand, I was more careful. I began gathering up dirty dishes and carried them to the sink. I was expecting Joe to tell me to leave them--his new housekeeper would take care of the mess. But Joe remained silent, which seemed to give me the go ahead to bring up the subject of his new housekeeper.

"Some new housekeeper you've hired, Joe. I've never seen this place so-"

"What new housekeeper?