Arthur nodded solemnly. He understood that kind of pride.
“I was sitting there with the branch manager, trying to fill out the paperwork, when she looked up at me and said, ‘You’ve got plenty of funds in your joint account with your mother.’”
Arthur didn’t flinch. “Clare always made sure you were taken care of, sweetheart. She knew what she was doing. Even when the rest of us didn’t.”
“No, this wasn’t just some money.” My voice shook. “She emptied everything. Her main account, her savings…all of it. It seems that she even liquidated her investments. And she moved it all into the joint account. And she did it the week before she died.”
Arthur’s brows pulled together. “Maybe she was just trying to plan ahead. Get her affairs in order.”
“The week before?” I said, my voice catching. “And not a word to me about it? That’s not planning, Arthur. That’s fear. That’s someone who felt her life was in danger.”
Arthur didn’t respond right away. Instead, he reached for the desk calendar on the counter behind him and began flipping through the pages, scanning each one like he was trying to place something.
“That’s right around the time she was all wound up about Madeline Hart,” he said finally. “And those documents in the envelope.” He nodded toward the plastic storage bin I’d dropped off that morning. “When we first talked about it, she said she felt like she was holding a live wire.”
“You think she really believed a politician would come after her?”
Arthur let out a dry huff. “Skye, your mother could turn obsessing into an Olympic sport and take home the gold every time. All I can tell you is she was worried. The thing is, it didn’t stop her. I told her more than once to get rid of it, to hand it all over to Hart or her people. But she wouldn’t listen. This was trouble she didn’t need, and she knew it. But apparently, it didn’t stop her.”
A faint whiff of pipe tobacco drifted through the room, and I didn’t even have to look. I knew exactly who had arrived.
Arthur didn’t miss a beat. “Well, it’s about time you showed up. What were you doing? Taking a nap in your crypt?”
I glanced toward the empty corner and gave a small smile. “Hi, Henry.”
Arthur gave a long-suffering sigh. “He sends his regards. Along with the usual unsolicited opinions.”
“What is he saying now?”
Arthur tilted his head slightly, listening. “He wants to know your ultimate goal. And before you ask—yes, he’s quoting another Sherlock Holmes story.”
A pause. Arthur rolled his eyes. “No, Henry, The Adventure of the Norwood Builder is not helpful right now.”
Another pause. Then, “Nope. Not repeating that one out loud.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What is he saying?”
Arthur gave me a sidelong look. “Trust me, you don’t want to know. But let’s just say he’s invested in this situation. And possibly overcaffeinated. Spiritually.”
“I want to find my mother’s killer,” I said quietly. “Or at least know what really happened to her.”
Arthur shifted his gaze back me. “By the way, I made a couple of phone calls. None of the neighbors had anything. No cameras, nothing they saw that night to help ID whoever broke into the barn.”
He turned toward where I guessed Henry was standing and went still for a moment, listening.
“Well,” Arthur muttered, “finally, a good idea.”
“What is it?”
“He says you should confront your suspect. Expose her. The same way your mother was trying to. Shine a light on her hypocrisy. He thinks that might be the only real shot at justice.”
“That sounds…reasonable.” And it did, at least on the surface. But underneath, the truth pressed like a weight on my chest. There were no witnesses, no help coming. Just me, Arthur and two ghosts. I had to tread carefully. I had a daughter to protect. If this woman was capable of murder, I wouldn’t risk her getting anywhere near Ocean.
I pulled out my phone and opened the photo I’d taken of the business card Hart’s attorney had left at the bookstore. Catherine Lowe.
Tapping in the number, it rang once, then went straight to voicemail.
“Hi, this is Skye Randall,” I said after the tone. “I’m calling about your client, Madeline Hart. I need to speak with her directly regarding her interest in something my mother had in her possession. Please call me back.”
