A Willing Murder Read online

  “Everyone in Lachlan wants to see this house,” Jack said. “But it’s private.”

  “Don’t let me forget to send Detective Cotilla an autographed book.”

  “You should hold a big autographing and clean out the garage,” Jack said. “There must be a hundred boxes in there. Wish I could give a book to Cheryl.” He halted, the last bacon bit on the way to his mouth.

  Kate’s eyes opened wide, and Sara froze, dishcloth in hand. They looked at one another.

  “An autographing in memory of Cheryl and Verna Morris,” Jack said.

  “And when they come to meet the world-famous, reclusive author Sara Medlar, we’ll ask them questions,” Kate said.

  Sara groaned. “I liked the idea up until now, but I don’t relish being the bait.”

  Jack held out the last bacon-and-cheese to Kate and she took it.

  “The funeral is Tuesday,” Kate said. “It’s Friday. Is there time to arrange something? And what about the funeral itself? Where does the county bury unwanted people?”

  “Unwanted. What an awful word!” Sara looked at Jack. “Think your mom and Ivy could arrange a nice funeral? Lots of flowers? My expense?”

  “Of course,” Jack said.

  “And a memorial service held in this house?” Kate asked. “Food, et cetera?”

  Sara nodded, but she looked like she was agreeing to her execution.

  Jack spoke up. “People will come if there’s food but how do we weed out the ones who know nothing about Cheryl or her mom?”

  “Good point,” Kate said. “What man is going to say that he was insane with lust for the sweet, innocent Cheryl? Or was a client of Verna?”

  Sara walked around the counter. “If you offer people something they really, really want, you can usually get them to give you something you want.”

  “I don’t mean to be a downer,” Kate said, “but a pretty house and a free book aren’t going to make people confess to murder.”

  “Jack!” Sara said. “How much do people of this town want to see what you did to the Stewart Mansion?”

  “An arm’s worth. And maybe a leg. Definitely give up their firstborn.”

  Kate opened her mouth to ask why, but Sara put up her hand. “The Stewart family used to own all the land that the town’s built on. Take it from someone who’s written eleven medieval novels, this place was a fiefdom. Old Judge Stewart was a tyrant—but he was a good despot. Fair and just, as well as ruthless.”

  She took a step away. “His son was in my class in high school. Nice guy, but he wimped out and married a snob of a girl from old money. It was the judge’s idea. He wanted to upgrade the family name.”

  “She’s talking about your Viking’s parents.” Jack was smiling.

  “People in glass houses,” Kate snapped, then looked at Sara. “You’re saying the peasants would dearly love to see the castle.”

  “Exactly!” Sara said.

  “So we lower the drawbridge and let the great unwashed enter,” Jack said. “Then what?”

  “We can’t let just anyone in,” Kate said. “Even for a memorial service, it would be worse than an open house at a mansion. We have to vet people.” She got off the stool. “It must be invitation-only. We send out invitations to Cheryl’s classmates and to anyone we can find who knew Verna. Surely someone in town knew them well enough to know their secrets.”

  “Mom,” Jack said and they looked at him. “She runs the Lachlan High School Alumni Association. She has addresses of people who attended in what year.”

  “All right,” Sara said. “This is good. But how do we get them to talk?”

  “Charge them,” Jack said. He was rubbing hard under his cast. “In order to get in to view the castle, get a free autographed book and lots of cheese and bacon, they have to tell what they know about the Morris girls.”

  Kate and Sara were staring at him.

  “A pirate with a brain,” Kate said. “Will wonders never cease?”

  It was such an odd remark that they laughed. This was something they could do. Not sit and accept what was being handed out to them, but an action. At the very least, it would honor two women whose lives had been cut short.

  “We can try,” Kate said and they agreed.

  Jack took out his phone, called his mother and filled her in.

  “Of course I’ll do it,” she said. “What’s Sara’s niece like?”

  “Stop trying to matchmake.” Jack was watching Kate put pans in the dishwasher. “Ol’ Alastair Stewart has already laid claim to her.”

  “Is that jealousy I hear?”

  Jack didn’t answer. “Could you go to the funeral home and set this up?”

  “For Tuesday morning at ten, right? I guess you guys got the sheriff’s permission for all this, didn’t you?” When her son was silent, Heather groaned. “Really, Jack! That man thinks he’s the king of this town. You can’t put on a huge funeral and a memorial service for the victims in his case and not tell him. He’ll be so mad he’ll give you speeding tickets for walking too fast.”

  “The pirate’s mother isn’t dumb,” he said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. It’s just Kate’s sense of humor. She likes to make fun of me.”

  Kate rolled her eyes.

  “Oh?” Heather sounded like she was ready to defend her son.

  “It’s not like that. She can be pretty funny. I’m a pirate and her boyfriend is a Viking.”

  “When do I meet her?” Heather asked eagerly.

  “As soon as you show up with the current names and addresses of Cheryl Morris’s classmates.”

  “Like they keep me up-to-date. Ha! Half the emails I send them get that Mailer-Daemon thing. What does that mean, anyway? Wait! I know. I’ll call Janet.”

  “Who?”

  “Janet Beeson. Church secretary. She’s good at finding people.”

  “Get whoever you need to. I better go. I have to tell Sara and Kate that we have to go to the sheriff.”

  “And Kate,” Heather said softly. “I’ll be over as soon as I can. Love you.”

  “Back at you.”

  They hung up. Jack didn’t need to tell the women what his mother had said as they’d listened to it all.

  “We’ll go see Flynn right away and get him to postpone the funeral. We need more time.” Sara looked at Jack. He and the sheriff weren’t exactly buddies. “Maybe you...”

  “Should stay home and wash my truck?”

  Before Sara could speak, Kate said, “Stay home and try to remember everything you can about Cheryl and her mother.”

  “I think I can do that best beside the pool.”

  Kate wished she could stay with him, but she didn’t say so. She changed into a dress, and Sara into pants and a blouse—nice clothes for visiting the sheriff. After Sara talked to Heather and gave permission to set up a research team in her house, she and Kate got in the bright yellow MINI Cooper and headed into town. Kate drove. “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”

  Sara gripped the armrest hard. “Sure. Go ahead.”

  Kate grimaced at her aunt’s obvious reluctance to talk of personal matters. “My mother said you used to weigh a lot.”

  “I did.” Sara’s relief made her exhale so hard the papers on her lap fluttered. “I lost it. Turn here.”

  Kate pulled into the parking lot and they got out. “I gain weight really easily and Mom said I get it from your side of the family.”

  “She still eating brownies before she goes to bed?”

  It was disconcerting to hear someone talk of what Kate thought only she knew.

  “Yes.”

  “With maraschino cherries in them?”

  “Oh, yes.” Kate’s voice was full of longing as she held the door open for Sara. “And almonds.”

  “Howeve