Not suspicious enough, Olivia thought. “No problem,” she said. “Your mother seemed to be such a sweet lady. I’m very sorry to hear of your loss. I don’t want to cause you any further trouble, but might I visit a ladies’ room before I go to my next appointment?”

Annelle did her best to hide her exasperation. She was clearly anxious to get back to the painful but necessary task of cleaning out her mother’s closet. “Sure,” she said. “Since you’re in here, you might as well use Mother’s, behind that door.” She pointed to a door in the north wall of the room.

“Thanks so much,” Olivia said, pushing open the indicated door. She closed it firmly behind her, dumped her bag and clipboard on the vanity, and looked around. Since there was no way she would get to search the bedroom, she would look around the bathroom as long as she dared. She actually sat on the toilet while she searched the area, and after as thorough an examination as she could assay in a believable length of time, she flushed the toilet and started the water in the sink, while giving the inside of the medicine cabinet and the storage cabinet quick but intensive scans.

Nothing. Not a crack or crevice that wasn’t normal building practice. No false back or revolving shelves or little holes in the floor. Though she didn’t have time to go through the lower cabinet, below the sink, she had a super-quick look to verify there was nothing suspicious.

Dammit.

When she came out of the bathroom, wiser only in a negative way—she was fairly sure nothing was hidden there, and she hadn’t learned anything more interesting besides the fact that Rachel Goldthorpe had had a great Mary Kay saleswoman in her neighborhood—Olivia made her good-byes and renewed her condolences to Annelle Goldthorpe Kling before going down the carpeted stairs and out to the front courtyard. She was not a hell of a lot wiser than she had been when she drove up. At least she felt more familiar with the layout. She’d confirmed that Manfred was a good observer, and she felt more comfortable with the plans he’d made of the house.

Now she had to decide what to do next.

The young gardener was still at work, though in a leisurely way, when she reemerged onto the gravel. Olivia was conscious of his stare as she opened the car door to let some of the trapped heat escape from the interior before she got in. She tossed in the messenger bag and clipboard, when her wandering thoughts were recalled by the sudden appearance of an unprepossessing and angry man. He didn’t come from the front of the house, but came around the house on the gravel driveway from the backyard . . . perhaps the guesthouse? Her inner alarm system told her there was something to watch out for in this man, and she always listened to that system with great attention.

This must be Lewis Goldthorpe; he looked enough like his sister to make her guess almost a certainty, even if the first words out of his mouth hadn’t been, “I’m Lewis Goldthorpe. This is my house. What are you doing here?”

Her hands clenched. It was almost impossible to resist the urge to kill him. She could do it so quickly, so cleanly, he wouldn’t even know what had hit him. And that would be a better end than an asshole like this deserved, Olivia thought. Just a hard thrust of her fingers to his throat would silence him and bring him down, and then a quick twist and it would all be over. Manfred’s problems, and hence the Rev’s problem, would vanish. With no one to bring charges against him, Olivia was sure the missing jewelry would be found and all would be well for Manfred . . . if only this man were dead. It was a happy daydream. But there was the young gardener, who was staring for all he was worth. And then Annelle Kling was standing in the open door.

“Lewis!” Annelle called sharply. “Come here.” She appeared to be biting back a long litany of things she wanted to say to her brother, and none of them were friendly.

“What’s this woman doing here?” Lewis demanded. “I want to know!” He was about five foot eight, bespectacled like his sister, and blessed with a thick head of blond hair. From its careful styling, Olivia could tell it was his crowning glory. He also wore a long-sleeved dress shirt and bow tie. Olivia could see a white T-shirt underneath, through the little gaps between buttons. He was a plump man. How did he bear the layers in this heat?

“She’s from a home health care agency,” Annelle said, enunciating every word with care. “Evidently Mother had called them while she was ill.”

“Preposterous. She would have told me. I took care of her.” He turned his challenging glare to Olivia, trying and failing to look her directly in the eyes. He turned on his sister. “Have you gotten Mother’s suite cleaned out yet?”

“You’re not moving into the house,” Annelle said, exasperation in every word. “We’ve gone over this and over this. We’re going to sell it. God knows, Rosie and I don’t want to live in it, and you can’t afford to buy us out. You can stay in the pool house until we sell this place.”

The gardener was as rapt as though he were watching his favorite reality show.

“You may go,” Lewis told Olivia, in a patronizing way. “None of this is your concern.”

The gardener was shaking his head silently, trying not to laugh.

It wasn’t Olivia’s concern, true, but it was interesting. Olivia smiled, making sure she looked completely benevolent. “Yes, I have to get to my next appointment.” She glanced at her wrist to check the time. “I’ll be late if I don’t get moving.” She maintained the smile as she got into the car and buckled up, relieved to feel the blast of the air-conditioning after she turned on the ignition. She managed a cheerful little finger wave at the three people staring after her as she circled the round rosebed and left the property.