“Fat lot of good she was.” Gretchen sniffed. “Her primary objective is for us to put away her great-niece and the niece’s ‘filthy hippie’ husband.”
September said, “We’ve talked to most of the neighbors, at least the wives. Got a few husbands left to interview, some other family members. We’re having to meet them face-to-face or they ignore us.”
Gretchen added, “The Singletons didn’t play with the other kids in the neighborhood.”
“They were in their seventies, climbing toward eighty when they died,” September added. “If they had friends on the street, they’ve all moved away. No one left in their age bracket except Grace Myles, who suffers from dementia, and Mr. Bromward at the far end, where Aurora hits the county highway.”
“That about where the county road intersects with High Lake Road?” Wes asked.
“The one that circles Schultz Lake. Yeah,” September answered, surprised. “I didn’t realize Schultz Lake was so close. Probably a mile as the crow flies from the cul-de-sac at the end of Aurora.”
“You hear the decision on Roy Bolchoy?” Wes asked her.
September shook her head. “No. Is the case going to trial?”
“Nope.” A slow grin slid across his face. “No evidence. It’s either missing, lost, or never was.”
“Huh. Good for him,” September said.
Gretchen said admiringly, “God, I thought they had him for sure.”
“Just wish he woulda got the Carreras while he was at it.” George was dour. “Lucky us, they’ve moved to our ’hood.”
“They’ve cooled off their acquisitions around Schultz Lake,” Gretchen said.
“Temporary,” Wes predicted. “That boating accident slowed them down.”
“What’s the name of the guy who died?” Gretchen queried.
“Bellows,” September said, pulling it from her memory. “They’ve been pretty quiet since then.”
“Calm before the storm,” Wes said.
They all thought about the Carrera brothers for a moment, then George said, “Wes and I just got a double homicide.”
“What?” Gretchen demanded. She hated being left out. “Who gave it to you? D’Annibal?”
“The lieutenant thought it was too pedestrian for you,” Wes told her, grinning.
“Bullshit. What is it?”
Wes spread his hands. “Love affair gone bad. Wife shoots the husband, husband dials nine-one-one as wife shoots him again, and then shoots herself. Except the girlfriend was in the apartment about the same time, according to a witness.”
“You’re right. Too pedestrian. It’s either the wife or the girlfriend,” Gretchen said, pretending to yawn.
“You are one messed-up chick.” George shook his head as he swung back to his desk.
“Call me a chick again and I’ll pull your tongue out through your nose.”
George seemed about to retort but apparently thought better of it.
September sat at her desk and pulled out the list of property owners she’d compiled, searching through her own notations. She’d asked those who would talk to her if they remembered any man in his late teens who was connected to the Singletons, but she’d drawn a blank. She’d also asked Fairy about her grandparents and other neighbors to no avail. No one knew anything about the mysterious extra bones in the basement.
“We’ve been at this for a couple of months and it’s gonna take some more time,” she said aloud.
“A lot more time,” Gretchen acknowledged from her own desk.
“Well, good luck,” Wes said. “When you finally solve it, let’s all go to the lodge on Schultz Lake and celebrate.”
“Ye of little faith. That lodge is barely started,” September said.
“We’ll solve it long before the Wrens are done building it,” Gretchen stated with assurance.
Wes smiled. “Well, if things heat up, we can always hit Lacey’s instead.”
*
Andi ordered the chicken salad sandwich again, and this time she ate the whole thing while Luke drank a glass of iced tea with extra lemon. He’d grown quiet at The Café, after giving her a lopsided grin when they’d driven into the lot and he saw the name of the place. Now he leaned forward on his elbows and gazed at her directly as she picked up her water glass. “You said you wanted personal protection,” he reminded her.
“I’m kind of rethinking that.”
“You sure?”
Her cell phone bleeped before she could respond, an incoming text. She pulled it from her purse and saw the message was from Carter to both Emma and her: conference room tomorrow at ten. She tucked her phone back in her purse and said, “I have a meeting at work tomorrow before the movers arrive. I’ll call you afterward. I want to sleep on all this. I’m sorry, I just don’t know what I want.”
“All right.”