A Justified Murder Read online

  “Very. What else?” Sara asked.

  “That’s all of it,” Jack said. “I think you should include the spy in your report to Flynn. I have a feeling that he’s connected to the murder.”

  Kate looked at her aunt. “There was one other itty bitty thing. We overheard Tayla on the phone with Gil.”

  Sara grimaced. “That couldn’t have been much. Maybe she wants to add on to that giant house of hers.”

  “People in glass houses...” Jack mumbled, but stopped at Kate’s look.

  “Did you know that Sylvia Alden wrote novels?”

  Sara’s eyes widened, then her face lit up. “That’s it! She wasn’t a recluse. She’s far from being agoraphobic. There’s nothing wrong with her but that she’s a writer. Her head is full of stories.” Sara stood up and looked down at the two of them. “This explains so much. She didn’t go to church with her husband because she wanted the peace of a quiet house so she could write. She stayed home because she was working. Her friends were the neighbors because they were there. She sewed costumes for the kids because a sewing machine is good for giving you time to think.” She picked up her cell phone and tapped in Sylvia’s name, then read. “There’s nothing in here about her books. She must have a pen name.”

  “I wonder if Sheriff Flynn knows she was a writer?” Kate asked. “I haven’t heard it mentioned by anyone.”

  Jack, who had known Sara far longer than Kate had, said, “She may not have wanted people to know she wrote.”

  “Not tell people you’re a writer?” Kate said in disbelief. “I’d think she’d shout it from the rooftops. Do you know how many people try to get published but never do?”

  Sara didn’t seem to want to answer that question. Instead, she said she’d use her contacts to find out who published Sylvia and under what name. “If it’s out there, I’ll find her.”

  Sara wanted to hear everything again to make sure they hadn’t left anything out.

  When she began to yawn, she told them good-night and went to her bedroom.

  Kate also said good-night and went to her suite, closing the door behind her. The rooms had become a sanctuary for her. At one end was a living room with a big bowed window. A hallway went past two walk-in closets, a beautiful bath, then into the bedroom. Double doors led out to a pretty courtyard with a fountain of a girl dancing in the rain. Jack’s bedroom was at that end of the house and he was often in the courtyard.

  As she dressed for bed, Kate thought of all that was going on. Yes, tonight had been scary. Some man spying on them, Jack falling and hitting his head had been bad. But the truth was that every day she became happier with her life. Gradually, she was coming to see how lacking her childhood had been.

  When Kate was only four years old, her mother had been widowed. She’d had to support herself and her young daughter on an insurance policy that made them have to skimp for all of Kate’s life. Whenever her mother got a job, her debilitating depression made her lose it.

  And then there were her three uncles, older than her mother, living with their families on twenty acres of land. They constantly made decrees of how everyone in the world should dress, behave and think. They expected Kate and her mother to faithfully obey their made-up rules.

  Kate had managed to stay away from them—most of the time anyway. But they still had an effect on her and her mother.

  How different her life now was! Aunt Sara and Jack were so easy to live with and they accepted Kate the way she was.

  She had just found these lovely people and she couldn’t bear the thought of changing it in any way. Jack’s being hurt tonight had scared her deeply.

  When she climbed into her bed with its cool, crisp sheets, she thought how good it was to feel that she belonged, that she was part of something.

  Seven

  KATE WAS SHOWING a house to a couple whose only concern was whether or not their antique dining table would fit.

  “It belonged to my grandmother,” the husband explained.

  She said she knew the perfect house for them and could show it to them that afternoon. They were delighted.

  This morning she and Jack and Sara had been quiet. They were all thinking about what had happened since Janet Beeson had been murdered. While Kate and Jack went to work, Sara was to finish writing the report. They were going to meet for lunch, read what Sara had written, then she would email it to Sheriff Flynn.

  And that would be the end of it. They strongly agreed on that.

  When Kate left the house she’d been showing, Jack was leaning against her car. He opened the door for her to get in the passenger seat and she did. “Please tell me nothing bad has happened.”

  “Everybody is safe and alive.” He pulled into the street. “We’re still meeting Sara for lunch but I thought that first we could run this through a wash.”

  Jack took care of all vehicles, from the lawn mower to the two cars to his truck.

  “So what is it you want to talk to me about?”

  Jack gave a half smile. “You’re beginning to know me too well.”

  He went to a car wash on Sunrise, drove onto the ramps, then turned to her. The loudly gushing water made the inside of the car seem very private.

  “This morning I wouldn’t let Gil near a saw or a nail gun. If you plugged it in, I kept him away from it. Even so, he fell down four rungs of a ladder.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “Bloody shins but he’ll live.”

  She could tell that he had something serious to say so she waited in silence.

  “On the phone, Gil told Tayla that he had to watch Quinn every minute. I thought it was because he was a kid. But today when I asked him how his son was, I saw fear in Gil’s eyes. Deep, gut-level fear.”

  Kate felt her heart do a leap. This summer Gil had often brought his son over to play in the pool. The nine-year-old boy was smart, funny, and happy. And he adored his big bear of a father. Kate had helped Quinn put on a surprise birthday party for Gil at Sara’s house. They’d bought a cake at the local bakery, and Jack had helped the child order a new hand plane from a specialty store in Vermont. At the party, it had been heartwarming to see the way Gil and his son hugged. It was as though their strength came from each other.

  One time, Kate asked about Quinn’s mother, but Jack just said, “She’s out of the picture,” then walked away.

  “Quinn is Gil’s life,” she said softly.

  Jack was looking at the big yellow brushes going around the car. “Ten years ago, Gil went on vacation to California and he met her in a bar.” He didn’t bother to explain that he was talking about Quinn’s mother. “It was a one-nighter, but he did give her his email address. He didn’t hear from her until Quinn was three months old. Gil flew back, ready to move to California and help raise his son.”

  Jack hesitated. “But the woman was using. Gil had a DNA test done and it was positive, so he knew Quinn was his. He gave her every dollar he’d saved over the years and he brought the baby home. He’s not seen or heard from her since. If Gil is this afraid, then it’s my guess that she’s reentered the picture.”

  He paused a moment and Kate waited. “Last night I was thinking about Janet Beeson. She seemed to want to help everyone. What if Quinn’s mother showed up here with a sob story? Women tend to believe whoever cries.”

  When Kate made no reply, Jack said, “No argument on that sexist statement?”

  “Tears are usually a sign of pain. We notice, we care. Have you ever seen the woman?”

  “Never. And no photos.”

  Kate put her head back against the seat. “Was there any paperwork between her and Gil?”

  “None, and she is his biological mother. That carries a lot of weight.”

  “All this is speculation,” Kate said. “We don’t know that any of this is true, and we certainly have no way to connect Quinn’s mother to Janet Be