Éclair and Present Danger by Laura Bradford

signs of spring that had been starting to form had been crushed into the mulched earth.
    â€œI guess I missed that when I brought the pie over after dinner,” she mused.
    Bridget’s hands moved to her mouth but not before she released yet another gasp. Eventually, she spoke, her disgust rivaled only by disbelief. “How could she tell her child to do that especially after what happened the first time?”
    The answer was on the tip of Winnie’s tongue, but she let Mr. Nelson spell it out for their next-door neighbor. “Based on what Winnie just said, Bart was already dead by as much as six or seven hours when school let out.”
    â€œI realize that,” Bridget said. “But Sissy couldn’t have known that.”
    Mr. Nelson’s hand tightened on the handle of his cane. “She could if she was the one who held the pillow . . .”

Chapter 9

    W innie pulled the sponge from the bucket, squeezed out the excess soapy water, and moved around to the driver’s side of the ambulance. “Don’t look now, Renee, but your number one fan is headed this way.”
    Renee’s head popped up from the other side of the car as she, too, took note of Mr. Nelson and his cane headed in their direction. Lovey followed at a safe distance and with a slightly lazier pace. “Maybe he wants to help dry.”
    â€œMaybe he wants to gawk at you in that formfitting T-shirt.” She finished the door panel and moved down the length of the ambulance, stopping to dip her sponge into the bucket as she went. “In fact, if I’m right on the time, Mr. Nelson is giving up his noon sighting of Channel Five’s meteorologist to get a closer look at you.”
    â€œHe
is
good for the ego,” Renee said in a half whisper before she made her way around the hood of the ambulance to meet Mr. Nelson at the end of the driveway. “Mr. Nelson, hello. Don’t you look dapper today?”
    Winnie stopped washing and turned in time to seeRenee straighten the man’s clip-on bow tie, a gesture that earned her former and soon-to-be-again employee a sweet smile in return. She shook her head in amusement and returned to the task at hand.
    Mr. Nelson cleared his throat and hobbled a few steps closer to Winnie. “Lovey seemed anxious to come outside and see what you were up to, so I let her out. I hope that’s okay.”
    â€œIt’s fine, Mr. Nelson.” She waved a soapy finger in the direction of the gold-colored eyes staring out at her from the oak tree on the opposite side of the driveway.
    Lovey, in turn, blinked twice and then hissed.
    Progress . . .
    â€œOnce you get to rinsing, make sure you rinse and dry one section at a time. Looks better that way.”
    â€œWill do, Mr. Nelson. Thanks for the tip.” She got to the end of the driver’s side and stood, the ache in her legs after three sides of bending and washing making her more than a little grateful for Renee’s help. “Phew. Time to rinse. Renee, you want to spray it down?”
    â€œI’ll do that!” Mr. Nelson stepped forward, took the garden hose from Renee’s hands, and hit her with the first shot.
    â€œOooh!” Renee squealed. “Oooh, that’s cold.”
    He released his hold on the trigger, his eyes wide. “Oh. Miss Ballentine. I’m so sorry. Can I help dry you off?”
    Winnie snorted, then laughed, then snorted again. “You’re as bad as a teenage boy, Mr. Nelson!”
    â€œWhat?” he countered, his non-cane-holding hand splayed. “My hand slipped. It happens sometimes.”
    She stepped over to the folding chair tasked with holding their car-washing supplies and liberated the first towel from the pile. “Here, Renee.”
    Renee took the towel, dried off, and then wrapped it around her body. “Th-that’s b-better.”
    â€œYou gonna keep that towel there?” Mr. Nelson asked.
    â€œF-for a