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“With an exclamation point.”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “And, if you like it there tonight, you could stay indefinitely.”
She arched her brows. “Is that an invitation?”
“No strings attached. It’s just that soon you’re not going to have a roof over your head.” He glanced toward the dining area. “I hope they start the demolition with that chandelier.”
She laughed again, more lightly than she had in ages. “Actually, I like the idea of having strings attached.”
“Good. Me too. Let’s get started.” With their arms around each other’s waists, they walked to the front door. “Oh, the candles.”
He walked over to the fireplace and ran his hand along the carved wood mantel. “You sure you don’t want to salvage this?”
“Do you? If so, it’s yours.”
“Thanks. I’m doing a remodel where I think it’ll add some character.” He stepped back and assessed the plain brick chimney. “The rest of it has none.”
Arden had been watching him with adoring eyes, when suddenly she was yanked from her mooniness. “Chimney.” Ledge had cupped his hand around one of the candles, about to blow it out. “Wait! Ledge. She said chimney.”
“What?”
“Lisa. Just before she died, remember? She whispered something to me, but I didn’t get it.” She raised her fingertips to her lips. “She said chimney.”
They looked at each other with a significant question mark between them.
He said, “Flip on the light.”
She did. He kneeled on the hearth, opened the damper to a shower of soot, and looked up into the flue. “Got a flashlight?”
“In the kitchen.” Arden rushed into the kitchen and retrieved it from a drawer. She carried it back to Ledge, who shone it up into the flue.
“Is there something up there?”
He didn’t say anything, but repositioned himself, edging farther into the grate, and reached up with his right arm, clenching his teeth as he strained. He gave several hard yanks, then withdrew his arm and scooted out just as a canvas bag dropped into the grate.
Dusting his hands, he came slowly to his feet and said under his breath, “I’ll be double damned.”
Arden whispered, “Is that it?”
“That’s it, and it’s still full.”
The two of them stared at the bag as though expecting it to start breathing.
“She told Rusty she had spent the money. Every last cent,” Arden said, imitating Lisa’s spiteful tone.
“That would’ve been a trip wire.”
“Yes. He shot her instantly.” She continued to gaze down at the bag. “Did insurance cover the Welch’s loss?”
“Yes. At the time, that relieved my conscience a lot,” he said
.
“Then what happens to stolen money that’s recovered?”
“I’m sure that young, fire-breathing prosecutor will know.”
“Hmm.” After a moment, she added, “Imagine the paperwork that will involve, and he’s already got so much work ahead of him.”
