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Chapter Fifteen
Carmel Valley, California
Wednesday, November 9, 6:30 p.m.
“Mom?” Kit called as she walked through the living room of McKittrick House. The furniture was newly dusted and the room smelled like lemon Pledge. It smelled like home. “Pop?”
“In the kitchen, Kit,” Betsy called.
Snickerdoodle bounded into the living room, tail wagging. Kit dropped to one knee, hugging her dog. “I missed you,” she murmured into Snick’s curly coat.
“She always misses you,” Harlan said from the doorway into the kitchen. “Two nights in a row? You okay, Kitty-Cat?”
It was said lightly, but Kit could see the concern in his eyes.
“I’m okay, Pop. Just have a squirrelly case and I needed a break before I jumped back into it.” She rose and walked into his arms, letting out a small sigh of relief. “I’ve been staring at data all day and my eyeballs hurt.” She pulled away to look up at him. “I bet some of Mom’s pie would help the eyeball pain.”
He smiled down at her. “Apple okay?”
“Absolutely yes.” She fell into step with him as they walked to the kitchen, where Betsy was bustling around as usual, and everything felt right in Kit’s world.
Betsy shoved a bowl of potatoes into Kit’s arms. “Peel.”
Kit laughed. “I love you, too, Mom.”
Betsy patted her cheek. “We have five of our girls here tonight. And Akiko loves potatoes, so we need extra.”
Kit sat at the table, Harlan in the chair across from her and Snick at their feet. “Where is Akiko?” Her foster sister Akiko had been adopted by Harlan and Betsy about the same time Kit had been—four full years after Kit had hidden with Wren in the McKittricks’ barn.
“She took Rita, Tiffany, and Emma out on the boat this afternoon,” Harlan explained, “to celebrate the three of them registering for school today. Tiff and Emma had never been fishing. They’re out back, cleaning their catch. All three girls caught a rockfish and Akiko brought in a halibut.”
Kit licked her lips. “We’re going to eat well tonight.” She eyed the huge bowl of potatoes doubtfully. “You sure you need this many, Mom? This looks like twice as many as we’ll need, even with seven people here tonight.”
“Just peel,” Betsy said. “After all this time, you question me?”
Kit chuckled and began to peel. “No, ma’am.”
Across from her, Harlan laid a piece of newspaper on the table and began to carve the piece of wood he’d been examining the night before. The curls from the block of wood joined the potato peels, both of them working in companionable silence while Betsy hummed to herself.
This was…perfect. Kit’s mind began to relax as she methodically peeled.
“You can think out loud if you need to,” Harlan murmured. “We’re the vault.”
They were. She was safer in this kitchen than anyplace in the entire world.
“I’m looking at four of the nurses in this retirement center for at least two murders,” Kit said, keeping her gaze fixed to the potato in her hand. “Maybe three murders.”
“The former cop is one,” Harlan said. “Who are the others?”
“The head of security for the facility is another. The cop’s best friend is still a maybe-murder, because it looks like he died in his sleep of a heart attack, but my gut says he was killed. Sweet old guy, by all reports. Had early-stage dementia. I think he knew something that someone didn’t want him to tell.”
Like who killed Frankie or who stole his coins or both. Especially if the same person was responsible for all of it.
Betsy made a hurt sound. “Poor man.” She put a glass of iced tea at Kit’s elbow and an empty pot for the peeled potatoes on the table, running her hand over Kit’s hair before returning to the stove.
“I know. Everyone is mourning him. Like I said, it looks like he had a heart attack, but I’m not so sure. The nurses had access to him every day, long before either he or the former cop died. The cop had lived independently, but someone had been in Benny’s room every day, making sure he took his meds and caring for him in other ways.”
“So you think one of the nurses did it?” Harlan asked.
