Chapter Twenty-Two

I felt pumped up and pain free as I marched up Joe's backyard to the porch door. Forget ladylike knuckle taps on the door. I used both fists and pounded, determined not to be ignored or turned away.

"All right," Angel hissed as she yanked open the door.

"I'm back as promised," declared I, and shoved her aside and entered the kitchen.

Joe entered the room at the same time.

"What's all the commotion down here?" he demanded.

I saw Angel open her mouth to speak, but beat her to it.

"I don't know why, but Angel here's been passing herself off as your housekeeper, Joe."

Angel immediately responded to the way Joe's eyes seemed to question her.

"I didn't know if you were ready to tell people yet."

"For heaven's sake, child, I want to shout from rooftops that I have a daughter."

"Daughter?"

"Yes," said Joe. "Angel is my daughter. Not my housekeeper, Fay."

The news floored me. I suppose it was because I was in a state of shock that I allowed Angel to guide me to a table chair.

"I'm sorry, Fay. I really hated not telling you the truth. But Father left so suddenly that it wasn't clear to me how he planned to handle the news of having a daughter."

By the time she finished her sweet little confession, the three of us were seated around the table.

"I did leave rather abruptly," Joe admitted. "And I accept full responsibility for the misunderstanding."

It may have been my turn to speak, but I was not yet ready to do so. The truth is, I was not yet able to work tongue and mouth well enough to form words.

Then Joe took my turn. "I am surprised at you, Fay. How could you believe I hired a new housekeeper? You of all people should know I wouldn't think of replacing Ethel."

You better start, I wanted to say, but didn't. And it wasn't because I was still too much in shock to speak. I just didn't want to break the terrible news that way.

"Actually," Angel began, "Fay did not believe I had been hired to replace Ethel."

"Am I correct, Fay?"

This time I listened to that inner voice.

"You are correct. But when I learned Ethel had been-"

I cut myself off. I just didn't have the heart to break Joe's with the single word, murder. There had to be an easier way. Even though Joe was going to be devastated no matter what word I used.

"Ethel had been what?" Joe asked, his features showing signs of alarm.

I looked over at Angel, thinking maybe she'd want to break the news. But then, the anxious look on her face convinced me she didn't know Ethel had been murdered either.

After swallowing long and hard, I attempted to answer Joe's question.

"Ethel is gone, Joe."

"Gone. Gone where?"

"She's passed on," I answered softly, and reached across the tabletop for his hand.

He latched onto my hand so tightly that it was all I could do to keep from screaming at him to let go. I saw tears come into his eyes and experienced my own vision clouding over.

I was too busy concentrating on Joe to notice Angel's immediate reaction to my news. But her, "Oh I'm so sorry, Father," that came within seconds, sounded sincere. Then she was out of her seat caressing the man's shoulders before her next breath.

I suppose I should feel grateful that Joe let go of my hand so he could reach up and pat one of hers. But I did not feel grateful. I felt betrayed. Okay, jealous. one love tap from Angel and Joe forgot I was sharing air space with them.

Before that pesky inner voice had a chance to insist it would be bad timing and mean spirited to interrupt the touchy scene between father and daughter, I went ahead and did it.

"Ethel was murdered, Joe."

That got his attention. And just maybe prevented him from sinking into a state of depression. I say this because his hand returned to the table with a bang. He sat tall, eyes blinking back tears before he looked straight over into mine.

"What do you mean, Ethel was murdered?" he demanded.

I told him about how she had been tied up, gagged, and stuffed inside an old refrigerator in the woods. I gave him the coroner's ruling that she died of suffocation. I did not tell him this probably took a while to occur. Or that it had to have been a slow and terrifying death for her. But then, Joe is no dummy.

During all this, Joe would occasionally shake his head no in disbelief and Angel would massage his shoulders a little harder. Her expression was saying, how awful the entire time I spoke.

When I finished, she said the words.

"It just can't be so," Joe finally said. "Why would anyone want to hurt my Ethel?"

I vividly remember the way Angel's expression hardened when Joe made reference to Ethel as, my Ethel. My first thought at seeing this was, the glass-eyed doll is jealous.