Sketch of a Murder

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Nita knocked on the door of a tidy, yellow house on NE 49th, only a few blocks from Woodland Park Zoo.

Christina Ryan answered the door dressed in a loose-fitting, light blue shirt and dark blue jeans that accentuated her slender build. In running shoes even her height, approximately an inch more than Nita's own five-foot-ten, fit Huong's description. Half the population of Seattle probably fit that general description.

Christina held the edge of the door with one hand, the other propped on her hip. She lifted her eyebrows, but otherwise showed no emotion on her face. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Sergeant Slowater?"

"I'd like to come in and ask you a few questions."

"Still think I'm responsible for Dr. Benning's death because I helped his ex-wife and hated him?" She stepped to one side, opened the screen door, and motioned Nita into a living room as clean and tidy as the yard outside. With a sweep of her hand, she directed her towards the worn floral couch and matching overstuffed chair. "Have a seat, Sergeant, while I get some coffee for us. Heavy on the half and half with two sugars, if I recall correctly from your last visit to grill me?"

She settled on the edge of the chair and tilted her head to one side to look up at the other woman. "Yes, thanks. Tell me something: why be hospitable when you obviously resent my intrusion?"

A slight smile played across Christina's mouth. "My grandmother died a number of years ago, but I still worry about what she would say if I wasn't hospitable. I'll be back shortly. Make yourself at home, wander around, poke into stuff, if you'd like. Just don't mix up the papers I'm grading." She waved at the cluttered desk by the window as she left the room.

Nita gazed around, noting the mix of old and new furnishings that blended seamlessly together, each piece looking like it belonged. She ran a hand along the threadbare fabric of the chair in which she sat. It was a comfortable room. When was the last time I've felt so comfortable sitting in someone else's house? She gave her head a hard shake as if that would dislodge such useless musings.

Christina returned with coffee and chocolate chip cookies. She set a cup and two cookies on a saucer and handed it to Nita.

The scent of warm chocolate wafted up to her. "Homemade?"

"Fresh out of the oven." She settled herself in the corner of the couch closest to Nita. "She hated store bought cookies. That chair was another legacy from her. It was her favorite chair, so when she died Mom gave me the chair and the matching couch. I keep thinking I should replace them with something a little less worn, a bit more modern, but I don't see that happening any time soon."

"I didn't know my grandparents." Where'd that true confession come from? Getting all girly and gossiping with a potential suspect? What next? Going to dinner with the lieutenant?

"I'm sorry. My mother called me my grandmother's pocket pet. Grandparents, grandmothers especially, I think, can have such an impact on a person's life."

"Obviously yours did."

Eyes focused somewhere in the distance, Christina answered in a thoughtful voice. "I would not be the person I am today if it hadn't been for my grandmother. It wasn't as if my parents lacked in the parenting department. They were both very involved in my life, and in the lives of my siblings. Still..." Her eyes shifted back to the detective and she gave a wistful smile. "A grandmother is special. She sees things differently than a parent. Of course she isn't responsible for the day-to-day raising, either. However, I am sure you aren't here to listen to me rambling on about my grandmother."