"Like I said. New evidence has come to light.”
She sighed. "Well, I know you know what you're doing.”
The front door opened, and another gentleman in his 40s stepped into the foyer, followed by a woman in her late 30s.
They both hugged Judy, long and tight.
"I can't believe he's gone," the woman said.
They both said hello to Bryce, then Judy made introductions. "Deputies, this is my brother, Hamilton, and my sister, Claire.”
Hamilton had a square face and chiseled features. Dressed in a designer suit, he looked sharp and crisp. Hamilton stood about 6 feet tall with slicked-back brown hair, powder blue eyes, and a clean shave. The resemblance to Preston was striking.
Judy and Hamilton had won the genetic lottery.
Claire, not so much.
She had puffy blue eyes, auburn hair, and looked a little disheveled.
"I'd like to see him," Hamilton said.
"He's in the bedroom," Judy said in a whisper.
Hamilton stepped into the living room, and Claire followed.
Not long after, the funeral director arrived. He was a tall gentleman in a dark suit with a thin build. He had narrow eyes, a receding brown hairline, and a saggy chin. Mr. Forrester spoke in a soothing tone and offered his condolences to the family.
“He’s right this way,” Judy said, leading Forrester into the living room.
There was an awkward moment alone in the foyer with Bryce.
He sucked his teeth and shook his head. "I feel terrible for the family. That's a lot of loss to deal with in the span of a week.”
“Indeed," I said.
"Do you really think Sydney was killed by someone she knew?"
"Most people are."
"That's what they say. Still, what's the motive?”
"Passion. Jealousy. Betrayal. Who knows?”
Bryce gave a grim nod.
"Well, I guess we'll get out of your hair,” I said. “I know this is a private time. Please give my condolences once again to Judy and the rest of the family.”
“I will," Bryce said. He dug into his pocket and handed me a card. "In case you need anything. I do family planning, estates, family law, that kind of thing."
I thanked him and slipped the card into my pocket. Bryce was the kind of guy who always hustled for business.
We stepped outside and walked back to the Porsche. By that time, Paris and her crew had arrived on the scene. Her cameraman closed in and focused the lens.
"Can you confirm that Preston Hollister has passed on?" Paris asked.
I gave her a look. "It's a little soon, don't you think? Give these people some peace.”
She motioned to her cameraman to cut.
