Connor's Gamble by Kathy Ivan

cheap red vinyl bench seat.  It overflowed with all the crap she'd carried along on this godforsaken trip, but at least nobody was going to be looking for anything in her bag of tricks. She was just a “little old lady” after all.  Hah!
    Trudy flounced onto the seat across from her, huffing and puffing as she wedged her bulk into the bench, squeezing and shoving at the table as she slid into place.  She was obviously out of breath from the exertion of walking across the hotel lobby.  Woman needs to exercise more, if you ask me .
    The loud orange and pink jacket over an equally loud green sweater shouted for attention.  Esther winced at the color combination, managing to hide her grimace of distaste behind a mask of emotionless rigid control.  Everyone in the jam-packed place saw her entrance long before Trudy actually arrived.
    Smoothing a napkin across her lap, Esther noted the crisp pleats in her own slacks and the clean sharp edges of her cuffs visible beneath her cardigan.  The two of us couldn't look more different if we tried.  She's a disgrace, a disheveled, unkempt mess .
    “Did you hear?”  Trudy's voice echoed through the coffee shop.
    “Lower you voice, dear.  Did I hear what exactly?”
    Trudy leaned forward and whispered, “The police want to question everybody who talked to Abby last night.  What are we going to do, Esther?”
    “We aren't going to do or say anything.  If the nice detective wants to talk to us, we tell him the truth.  We saw Abby last night before dinner .”  Esther kept her voice lowered and calm.  She knew she had to make Trudy focus; she could get so scattered at times.
    “We went to dinner with the group and we didn't see her after that .” 
    “But that's not true!  We went to her room and—”
    “Quiet.”  Esther barked out the order, her hands again smoothing out the napkin across her lap.  “We did not, I repeat, did not see Abigail after you and I went to dinner.  Do you understand?”
    Trudy's eyes widened and Esther could practically see the light bulb go off above her head as comprehension set in.  Esther smiled slightly, her lips barely moved when Trudy nodded in understanding.
    “Are the police questioning everyone or just some of the passengers?”
    “Alyssa mentioned they wanted to talk to everybody.”
    Esther's mind whirled, facts coalescing in precise analytical detail.  She loved things to be exact and precise, everything with a place and purpose.  She needed to gently lead Trudy in the right direction with a little nudge.  As much as she liked the old gal, she wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, so to speak.
    “That's fine.  You know we didn't do anything wrong.  The last time we saw Abigail she was alive and kicking.  We didn't have anything to do with her dying.”
    “But, Esther . . .”
    “Don't but Esther me, Trudy.  You tell the cops we saw Abigail last night after dinner, you know what's gonna happen?  We'll be stuck here in this little Podunk town while everybody else finishes the trip to New Orleans.  Is that what you want?”
    “Course not, Esther, but the truth is the truth.  We did see her.”
    “And was she not still alive when we left her room?”  Esther stared at Trudy, watched her fiddle with the water glass sitting in front of her, tracing her short pudgy fingers along the moisture as it beaded up on the outside.  A single drop slid down the side, reminding her of the teardrop diamond pendant secreted away in her purse.
    “Yes.”  Trudy whispered her response.
    “Then we haven't done anything wrong.  We won't lie to the police, my dear, just don't volunteer any information.  If they don't ask—keep your mouth shut.”
    “How'd things get so out of hand, Esther?  This should never have happened.”
    “Yes, I know.  Abigail should have minded her own business, instead of horning in on things that weren't any of her concern.”
    Trudy hefted herself out of the booth, puffing out an exhausted