“We’re honeymooners,” she said, smiling. “Mr. McKitchen used to visit his wife at the board-and-care where I lived. She passed away, and we became friends.”
“Congratulations,” I said.
“Thank you. I never thought I’d get out of that place. Arthritis. Not osteo, which everyone gets when they reach an age. Mine’s rheumatoid, it’s inherited. I’ve been achy my whole life. After Flora was gone I had nothing but pain. Now I’ve got companionship and my doctor’s come up with some new medication and I’m doing just fine. So it teaches you, things can get better.” She flexed her fingers and brushed at her hair.
The tea was lukewarm and insipid, but she closed her eyes with pleasure. Placing the cup on the table, she said, “I’m hoping for some good news about my Flora.”
“We’re just starting to reexamine the case.”
She patted my hand. “I know, dear. I meant in the long run. Now, how can I help you?”
“Is there anything you can think of that’s occurred to you since the first detectives—”
“They weren’t bad,” she said. “A he and she, and he was black. They meant well. At first I had hope, then I didn’t. At least they were honest. Told me they’d gotten nowhere. The reason was my Flora was so good, no bad influences. So it had to be someone she didn’t know, and that makes it harder. At least that’s what they said.”
“You disagree?”
“Not about Flora being good, but there was something that bothered me. A while before it happened Flora had worked at a parole office. Right from the beginning, she hated it and when I asked her why she said she didn’t care for the people she had to deal with. I said, ‘then quit.’ She said, ‘Mom, it’s just temporary until I get my credential, and the pay’s good. Good jobs are hard to find.’ I mentioned that to the detectives, and they said they’d check it out, but they doubted it was important because Flora hadn’t worked there for nearly a year.”
“What did Flora say about the people she had to deal with?”
“Nothing more than that, and when I asked, she changed the subject. Didn’t want me to worry, I suppose. Flora was always protective of me. I’ve had my ups and downs, health-wise.” Her blues eyes sharpened. “Do you think there could’ve been a connection to that place? Is that why you’re here—” Her hand trembled. “The first detectives seemed sure it wasn’t important, but you know, it did bother me.”
“There’s no evidence of a connection, but it’s being looked into.”
“So you already know about it.”
“Brian Van Dyne told us.”
“Brian.” She smiled. She ran her finger over the Harrah’s logo.
“Any problems between him and Flora?”
“Brian?” She chuckled. “The two of them seemed already married. Both of them so conservative, you know? Flora liked him just fine, and he adored her.”
“Conservative in what way?” I said.
“Old for their age. Flora was always that way, she grew up fast. Then when she found Brian, I said, ‘She’s got her counterpart.’ Flora’s father was a man’s man. So is Mr. McKitchen. That’s my type, but Flora . . .” She shrugged. “I’m not being kind to Brian, Brian’s a nice boy. My theory is that Flora went for him because he was so different from her last boyfriend. Now that one was masculine enough, but he had other problems. But you’d know about that.”
“Why’s that?”
“The first detectives looked into him after I told them about his temper. They said he was under no suspicion whatsoever.”
There’d been no mention of a former boyfriend in the file. I said, “I haven’t reviewed every page, Mrs. Newsome. What kind of temper problems are we talking about?”
“Roy can be a nice young man, but he does fly off the handle. Flora used to say sometimes she had to walk on eggshells when Roy got in one of his moods. Not that he hurt Flora, there was never a whisper of that, he never even raised his voice. It was his quiet that bothered her—she told me he’d drop into these long, cold silences where she couldn’t reach him.”