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In the center was a framed photo of Sylvia and Janet smiling at the camera. Short, plump Janet was leaning toward the elegant Sylvia. “A lady and her maid” was what they’d heard and it suited the picture perfectly.
“Her relatives came and got the furniture,” the sheriff said.
“They probably threw these out,” Sara said.
The sheriff turned full circle to look at the room. “You know, don’t you, that this makes things worse? You’re proving that Tayla had a lot of reasons to kill Janet Beeson. The woman would have ruined Tayla’s life, as she did to others. And if Tayla knew what Janet did to other people...” He looked at them and Sara gave a curt nod. “All this makes it understandable why Tayla killed her over something as small as a lawsuit.”
“We think Janet killed Sylvia,” Jack said.
The sheriff shrugged. “What does it matter now? They were friends, fell out, one poisoned the other. They’re both dead so no one can be prosecuted. That reporter is the one who’s going to benefit the most from all this. He’ll write everything with drama and fireworks. Damn who he hurts.”
Sara kept looking at the wall of photos while the others turned to the computers.
“I bet we could find out who Janet terrorized in Lachlan,” Kate said. “Maybe there’ll be some evidence that Kyle Nesbitt was innocent and he’ll be allowed to get his family back.”
“And Charlene will—” Jack stopped talking. Chet had paid the ultimate price for nosing around about the White Lily Kidnapping so there was no reason to add to it.
“What about her?” the sheriff asked.
“Nothing,” Jack said. “She’s upset about Tayla’s confession.”
“You’re not good at lying.” Sheriff Flynn was frowning. “You three want to tell me what you’ve been doing?”
Jack and Kate were silent.
“No.” Sara was still staring at the
photos. “There’s no need to tell anything. Janet Beeson was a horrible person. She hurt a lot of people.”
“Tayla still shouldn’t have killed her.” The sheriff’s voice was sad. Tayla was his relative.
“Right.” Sara put her arms up, elbows out, as though smoothing the back of her hair. When she pivoted around, an elbow hit three photos and knocked them to the floor. Sara let out a yelp of surprise.
The noise in the closed-in room was startling. In a swift gesture, Sara used the tip of her shoe to kick something toward Jack. He put his foot over it.
“I’m so sorry,” Sara said. “Should I pick them up?” She was a study in innocence.
“Leave them,” the sheriff said. He was looking at them in suspicion, but could see nothing wrong. He held his arm out to the door. “I think we should leave.”
“Of course,” Kate said, then put her hand on the sheriff’s forearm. “How are you holding up under all this? There must be a lot of pressure on you.”
“Thanks for asking,” he said. “I’m okay, but my wife...” He kept talking as he led them out. He didn’t notice that when Jack checked his shoelace, he palmed the tiny flash drive that Sara had sent scurrying toward him.
When they were in the truck, Kate said, “Okay, what did you two do?”
“I have no idea what you mean,” Jack said.
“Elbows hitting the pictures? Aunt Sara screams? Out with it!”
Smiling, Jack took the flash drive from his shirt pocket and handed it to her.
“Think it’s what Lisa was looking for?” Kate turned to her aunt.
Sara shrugged. “It’s in half the mysteries I’ve ever read. Picture frames are great hiding places, and considering Janet’s vanity, what wouldn’t she hurt?”
“The photo of her and Sylvia,” Kate said. “She might burn Lisa’s and Tom’s pictures but not her own.”
“Exactly what I thought,” Sara said. “I kept staring at that picture with its wide wooden frame and the lower left corner seemed to be smoother than the other ones.”
