by Anna Drake
Blackie looked over at Andrew and hissed.
“Nonsense.” I scratched Blackie behind his ears. He pressed his nose against mine.
“It would have made a long day for her.” Andrew said.
I glanced over at him. “I’m sorry, what?”
“For Jennifer,” he said. “It’s what, about a five-hour drive from Chicago to here? Then she’d have to kill her mom and turn around and rush back home.”
“Where did that come from?”
“I have no idea. I was just thinking about potential murderers. Which is supposed to be our focus, right?” He eyed Blackie disdainfully.
“You’re trying to divert my attention from my cat, that’s what you’re up to.”
“Just address my point... if you can.”
I shrugged. “She’s young. That pace would kill me, but she could have handled it.”
“If she did it.”
I sighed. “You’re right. It’s a very big ‘if’….”
“And what about her brother?”
“What do you mean?”
“Could she have gotten here to kill him and back home undetected?”
I scooped Blackie up into my arms and placed him on the floor. Standing, I faced Andrew. “Hank apparently died in the early morning hours. Sometime before five. She’d have had to make excuses to be away overnight if she’d been the killer.”
“Exactly.”
“You don’t think she did it?”
“I doubt it would have been easy for her to pull off.”
“So who do you suspect?”
“I suppose I’m leaning toward Prat, but only because I saw his name highlighted in Oberton’s notebook. Plus, I do think it would have been easier for someone local to commit the murders than for someone who lives so far away.”
“But you saw Prat. He’s about as difficult to get information from as a keynote speaker at a mime’s convention.”
“As I see it, they’re all the same. Why don’t we just give up?”
“I’ve told you. I saw Carrie’s face.” I shivered. “Her lifeless eyes still haunt me. Plus, I suspect I sent Hank to his death. And while I think Overton’s good at his job, he might blow it. There’s no way I’m living with that.”
“You’re unwilling to back off then?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Andrew paused and glanced upward. “Maybe we’ve been going at this the wrong way?”
“What do you mean?”
“Hang the money. What we need to know is where all our suspects were when the murders went down.”
“Only the police can undertake that kind of hunt. People would become suspicious if we asked them where they were at a specific time. Especially when they realize it was tied to the time Carrie or Hank died.”
“Then, maybe we’ve overlooked someone.”
“I can’t think who. But since Prat is so unforthcoming, maybe I can tap a different source.
So a short time later, I donned my coat and hat and set off for my neighbor’s house.
“Rose,” I said when she answered my knock on her door. “Thank you for making time to see me.”
“No problem.” She waved me into the house. “I’d been meaning to call you. So fill me in. What have you been up to?”
I laughed. “Not much. How about you?”
“Actually, I’ve been toying with the idea of moving.”
I glanced about her comfortable home.“But you’ve lived in Hendricksville your entire life. Why would you want leave now?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m restless. Maybe your move has inspired me.”
She turned and headed for the kitchen with me trailing behind. I hurried to catch up. “It’s hard work. It took me forever to sort through the house. Tossing this. Saving that. Packing everything that remained. It wasn’t easily done at my age.”
“I’ve never been afraid of hard work.”
We reached the kitchen which was flooded with sunlight and smelled enticingly of freshly brewed coffee. She pointed me toward the table.
I pulled out a chair and sat. “At least there’s no rush. No one is pressuring you.” Which wasn’t anything like what I’d gone through. Megan had been at me day and night to move. It had taken me what now seemed like an eternity to realize she was correct.
“Don’t worry. You’re not quite rid of me yet. Whether I stay or go depends on future events, I guess. And what other solutions come along.”
“What do you mean? Is there some problem?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
Sensing I might be stepping on sensitive ground, I let the issue drop.
She poured the coffee and carried the mugs to the table. “So what can I do for you?”
“I’m hoping you can tell me all about George Pratt.”
“Why in the world would you be interested in his story?”
I shifted in my chair. I couldn’t tell anyone Prat was a murder suspect. That wouldn’t be fair of me. He hadn’t been charged with the crime. Plus, the news had come from Andrew, and I wasn’t quite sure he was real. “I’m thinking of hiring Prat for several projects around the house. But I’d like to know more about him first.”
Rose’s brows rose. “How cautious of you.”
I tried again. “Can’t you tell me what kind of a man he is or not?”
“I’m not sure what you want to know.”
“What did he do before he retired for one thing.”
“He had his own a hardware store on the square.”
He’d once owned a business? “He sold the store when he retired, then?”
She grasped her coffee cup with both hands and rested her elbows before her on the table. “He managed to sell the building. What happened to his inventory I don’t know. The big box store in Weaverton, the one that specializes in home improvements, had pretty well wiped out his business by then. They were able to sell things at prices he couldn’t afford to match.”
“But he did well before the big boys showed up?”
“I suppose so, but I don’t have an inside track on the details. I only know what I’ve heard through the grapevine.” She studied me briefly, then asked, “Why this interest in his finances? They shouldn’t affect the quality of his work.”
I felt my face flush. “Unfortunately, being nosey seems to be an old weakness of mine.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with Carrie’s death?”
I laughed. “How could it? Prat, a killer? I don’t think so.”
Her expression hardened, which rather alarmed me. “You need to leave that problem for the police to sort out.”
“I am. Honestly, I only want to hire the guy.” I crossed my fingers behind my back. “Speaking of Carrie, how much do you know about Jennifer?”
Rose snatched up her coffee cup and scowled.
“Again, I’m just curious,” I said. “After seeing Jennifer at the funeral, I guess I’ve been wondering what she’s like.”
If I kept this up, I suspected Rose might never speak to me again. That is, if she didn’t move away.
“She’s like most young women her age, I guess, struggling to balance family and work.”
“Was she close with her aunt?” I took a quick sip of coffee.
“Apparently close enough for her to be named her aunt’s executor.”
“Chester seemed highly torn up over his brother’s death.”
“The boys, I think, were closer to each other than to Jennifer.”
“But Chester said Jennifer was especially fond of Hank.”
“Rose shrugged. “He was the baby of the family. I suppose that made sense. I wouldn’t really know. I didn’t pay the children much attention. It was only after they’d grown up, and moved away, and Carrie’s health declined that I had any sort of contact with them. And even then, I dealt mostly with Jennifer.”
“At least she was concerned enough to keep in touch with you.”
“Yes. She did what she could to help.”
Rose scowled. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“It’s been a while now since Carrie died. Have you had any further thoughts on who the killer might have been?”
She shrugged. “Why ask me?”
“You know the people here. You know the old grudges, the old alignments.”
“You’d best leave that kind of thinking to the police. That’s their business, and I’m leaving the whole thing with them..”
Oh bother, had this woman no curiosity at all? What kind of a mystery reader was she?
***
“Well, Rose was very helpful,” Andrew said, irony dripping from each word. I bit my tongue. I was getting a little tired of his reminding me of my lack of success.
“You were there? You were with me while I was visiting Rose?”
“Of course.”
“I dislike you being around me without my knowing it.”
He smiled. “There have to be some benefits to this kind of existence.”
I groaned. “Please tell me you don’t come into my bedroom.”
His face flushed. “I’m not a pervert,” he snapped.
I raised a hand and rubbed my forehead. “I’m sorry. I know that. It’s just that adjusting to you being here is difficult for me.”
“I understand.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, a call came in while you were out.”
“Thank you.” I checked my messages and spotted Sandy’s number. As I called her back, I carried the phone to my favorite chair. “Sandy,” I said when we connected.
“It’s your spy reporting,” she answered back.
“Please, don’t call me a spook. I feel bad enough creeping around and watching people as it is. So… how’d it go?”
“I haven’t quite proved her guilty, but there’s enough there to raise my suspicions.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well here’s the scoop. From what I could see and what I know of property values around here, I’d say her house is worth somewhere north of a million.”
“A million dollars?”
“Right. It’s huge. Four bedrooms at least, and sits in a prime area. It has to be the top of the line for what’s on the market there.”
“Wow.” I realized I should have asked Rose what Jennifer and her husband did for a living. Laura Day had told me Jennifer’s husband was successful, and Jennifer had gone on to do well, too. Given the right jobs, they might be able to afford such a home. On the other hand, my evil twin whispered in my ear, the masterpiece of a house could represent the theft of Mrs. Whitcomb’s money. The only question then was, had Carrie freely given the money to her niece, or had Jennifer found some sneaky way to make off with the cash?
The latter option would make Jennifer a prime suspect for murder.
“Hetty, are you still there?” Sandy asked.
“Yes, I’m still with you.”
“My findings don’t make your task any easier, do they?”
“Probably not, but I’m grateful for your help.”
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll figure something out.”
That is, if I could.
“You look worried,” Andrew said as I hung up the phone.
“Do I? I can’t imagine why.”
“Will you at least tell me what she reported?”
“Jennifer’s house is wildly expensive.”
“So where do she and her husband work?”
“Yes, that is the question, isn’t it?”
And how, I wondered, would I ever get my hands on that kind of information?
EIGHTEEN
“Mom,” Megan exclaimed. She was obviously stunned to find me standing on her front porch. “What brings you my way?”
My daughter might have insisted on my moving to Hendricksville to ease her worry over me, but I wasn’t about to overly burden her by turning up at her house often. Adult children need their own space, whether they know it or not.
“I’ve come to ask you to pick your husband’s brain for me.”
Her eyes grew even rounder. “Whatever do you want from Kevin?”
“Information,” I said with a brisk nod.
She laughed and closed the door behind me. “Come to the kitchen. I’ll make coffee.”
I shrugged my way out of my jacket. The weather had indeed shifted from winter toward spring, and today was pleasant enough to make me believe Old Man Winter had taken a hike. But I knew better. He’d come roaring back again before he let us go for the year.
A pile of laundry topped her kitchen table. I sat and began folding my grandchildren’s clothes while Megan made the coffee. “You don’t have to do that,” she said over her shoulder.
“I don’t mind. In fact it takes me back to when you and your brother were running about in my house.”
“Little did I know then how busy we’d kept you,” she said.
“Those were grand days. Treasure the time you have now. Children grow up too quickly.”
“Hmm. There are some days when that future can’t arrive fast enough.” She ran a hand through her hair. It was long and thick and naturally curly..
“I know.”
“So what’s this need you have for my husband?”
“It’s Carry Flynt’s niece,” I said, picking up a soft, sweet-smelling T-shirt and folding it gently. “I suspect she and Kevin are of the same age.”
“So?”
I added my shirt to the stack in the laundry basket. “I’d like to know more about her that’s all. And does he happen to know what she does for a living?”
“Why? What could that possibly matter?”
“Rose has talked so much of the family, but she apparently never knew Jennifer well.”
“Really, Mom, you need to find yourself something to do. All this gathering up of old stories on complete strangers isn’t healthy.”
“Darling, I’ve joined a knitting club. I’m working my fingers raw turning out baby blankets for the hospital’s newborns. Don’t begrudge me a little gossip now and again.”
She reached out and snagged a T-shirt. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“I don’t want to bother him.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re not a bother. Stay. Have dinner with us. I know the boys would be thrilled to see you.”
“And I them. But Blackie’s still restless.”
“I thought you’d calmed him down.”
“Yes, he is better. But you know how sensitive he is. He could suffer a setback over any little thing. I still must be careful of him.”
“Honestly, Mom, you’d think that cat was your child, not your pet.”
I bit back a chuckle. Megan and Andrew certainly saw eye to eye when it came to my cat. “No, I need to be home for Blackie tonight.”
Megan shook her head. “I still say poking about in other people’s business isn’t healthy. Especially when it revolves around a murder.” She lifted her head. “And of course, the nephew was killed too.”
“He was,” I agreed.
Megan’s green eyes studied me closely. “Mother, what are you up to?”
“I’m not up to anything, dear. I’m just following my God given curious nature.”
“So do the police have any leads?”
I snorted. “I’m the last person they’d tell.”
“And why is that, Mom? After all, you found the first body.”
“Please, don’t remind me. But basically, police don’t work like that. They’re tight lipped. They have to keep what they learn among themselves.”
“I suppose you’re right. You do read all those murder mysteries.”
I felt no need to fill my daughter in on Oberton’s suspicions of me and my antics. “So will you feel Kevin out tonight? Learn what you can for me about Jennifer Flynt?”
“Unfortunately, you raised a dutiful daughter. I will speak with Kevin. Now, whether I’ll share what I learn… well
, that’s a whole different issue.” She gave me a long, slow grin.
Ugh. Children can be such a torment.
***
When I got back home, I made straight for the phone. It was late enough by then that I figured high school teachers would be home wrestling with all that homework students turned in. During the drive home it had occurred to me who might prove a good source of information on Jennifer and her financial status.
“Chester,” I said when he answered my call. “How are you?” There’s nothing like a brother to pump for information.
“A little better,” he said. “I’m no closer to knowing why Hank was killed, but at least I’ve begun to accept his death.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m curious, though, did you turn up any information at all while you were looking into your brother’s death?”
“I wish. Most of what I learned I got from you and Rose. Oberton was friendly, but basically, he told me nothing.”
“Has Jennifer been in touch?”
“Oh, sure. She’s about as helpful as a pile of bricks.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know anything?”
“More like she and her husband are so caught up in chasing the almighty dollar that they have little time for anything else.”
Well, well, well. “I thought she was super close to Hank?”
“She was more fond of him than of me. I told you that. And that remains true as long as it doesn’t distract her from what is most important to her.”
“And what’s that?”
“Herself. Her own goals. Her personal desires.”
Yet I couldn’t help recalling that she was the one who saw to her aunt in the end. “What do she and her husband do for a living?”
“He’s a stockbroker. She heads up a big-name charity outfit.”
I could see why the two might spend a lot of their time chasing wealthy or influential people. I could also see how they might be able to have bought a pricey house all on their own. Still, if Jennifer hadn’t stolen her aunt’s money, could she have persuaded Carrie to make a charitable donation? A donation of that size wouldn’t harm her career in the long run.
“Did you check on your aunt’s money situation. Did you manage to figure out why there’s no money there?”