Chapter 8

"Well," said Andrea. "We know where the watch is. The only problem is it's not broke."

"Shall we give Amos the shadow of a doubt? I'd hate to accuse the boy of stealing it"

"He's your employee ... you're calling the shots."

"You have the most unusual way with words ... Calling the shots? Where is that from?"

"In my time, it's a pool ... that's billiards with pockets ... term. Calling the shot is calling the pocket."

"I am aware of the game ... sinful is what it is."

"Not in my time, ma'am," countered Andy. "In my time it's a game of skill often played by socially acceptable people. Actually, billiards is out of style."

"I'll accept that ... what else does 'calling the shots' mean?"

"Firearms, ma'am," said Andie, "Frontiersmen used to call the location of the bullet strike before the shot." She grinned, "Some of them were extremely accurate."

"I see, my husband and I shoot once a week at the Moose Lodge Range. We also shoot at the Amusement Park during the summer. Those little .22 pump guns are fun." There came a quiet rap at the door.

"Yes, Daisy?"

Daisy fumbled the door open. As soon as she was in the room Daisy burst into tears.

"Child, what has overset you?"

"It's Amos, ma'am ... the police wish to speak to you."

Before the police were summoned, Daisy had to be calmed and cosseted. It was easy to tell that Daisy wasn't just a servant ... regardless of color ... she was an important member of the family. Rare circumstances in 1919, common in Andrea's era. More than anything Andy had seen in her short time in the past, the care and concern impressed her. It was just one more reason she was happy with her future home purchase.

Finally, the police were allowed in the office.

"Ma'am."

"Officer."

"Ma'am, was Amos Honey Springs an employee of yours?" asked the officer.

"Sir ... is there a specific reason you referred to Mr. Honeysprings in the past tense?"

"Yes, ma'am. Springs is deceased."

The second officer said, "Jesus, Bob ... where's your tact? Daisy? could you fetch your mistress a glass of water ... shit, damn it. She's on the floor." He looked pleadingly at Andy...

"I'll fetch it officer."

Andy rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a tray, filled a pitcher with ice and water, hunted though the cupboards until she found glasses and returned to the office as soon as may be.

Glasses were filled and drunk. Newspapers were folded into fans and finally windows were opened ... it was the dead of winter ... the windows did the trick and were soon closed. Probably not soon enough ... both officers sneezed and coughed.