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“No, you don’t,” Jack said.
She went back to the stove, filled two bowls with her homemade minestrone, and set them on the counter. “How about if we have something to eat, then this afternoon I pay some visits and get people to talk about dear Janet? I’ll ask what they remember about her.”
“That would be great,” Kate said.
Heather set her bowl down across from them. “Actually, I have some photos of Janet and Sylvia together. Would they help?”
“If they were taken with a cell phone, Aunt Sara might not let them in the house,” Kate said.
When Jack laughed, Heather joined him. After all that had happened to him in the past year, her son’s laughter was a joy to hear—but there was still fear in her eyes. She turned to him. “I’ll help with this only if you promise not to get involved.”
“We do,” Kate said. The sight of Janet Beeson’s mutilated body was strong in her mind. “We’re going to leave this to the professionals.”
“Good. While you two eat, I’ll look for the photos. You’ll turn them over to the sheriff?” She was waiting for their reassurance.
“And the FBI and the CIA and—”
“The Secret Service,” Kate added to Jack’s list.
Heather stood there for a moment, looking as though she was trying to figure out if they were telling the truth about staying out of the murder. When she seemed to be satisfied, she left the room.
Kate let out her breath. “Was she like that when you were growing up?”
“Worse. She was always terrified that I was going to become like my dad.”
“Was she disappointed when you turned out exactly like him?”
“I did not,” Jack said. “Roy Wyatt was a lying, thieving—” He broke off at Kate’s smile. “Very funny. Hope somebody laughs. Let’s go to the grocery, then home. I have to go back to work.”
“Me too. I have a showing at three.”
“Serious buyers or time wasters?”
“They want a house that—” Her eyes widened.
“What?”
Kate put her hand to her face. “I have clients who want a house exactly like Mrs. Beeson’s.”
He groaned. “You never stop working, do you?”
“Look who’s talking. You—” She broke off when Heather came back holding some photos.
“I can make some better prints but these are okay for now.” She spread them on the countertop.
Kate picked up one picture. It was a group photo of half a dozen women standing in front of a pretty porch. To the right was the edge of a fountain with birds on it. “Where was this taken?”
Heather picked it up. “At Sylvia’s place.”
Kate and Jack looked at each other. “This is Janet’s house.”
“Oh!” Heather said. “That’s right. I forgot about that! I was away then, but someone at church said Janet had bought the Alden house. That poor, poor woman. How lonely she must have been to buy her friend’s house. Are you sure it wasn’t suicide?”
“Absolutely.” Jack stood up. “No doubt whatever.” He stacked the photos. “If you have the originals online, send copies to me. Sara can include them in the report she gives to the sheriff.”
“And that’s it?” Heather asked. “No more investigating?”
Jack hugged his mother. “The first time was a one-off. My leg was in a cast so I couldn’t work, Kate had just arrived in town, and Sara was, well, you know...being Sara, so it worked.”
