“Gretchen says a lot of things that aren’t true. You just noticed?”
“Smart-ass.” She shook her head. “She dragged me back from vacation last summer because the case was heating up, but it just came to a grinding halt. We don’t have a DNA match and no one on Aurora seems to know who belongs to the extra bones. I’ve gone back through property records to previous homeowners, but no one wants to get back to me.”
Jake pulled the steaks off the grill and slid them onto a plate, then picked up his own glass of red. They both walked back inside and sat down at the small kitchen table.
September exhaled heavily and picked up her wineglass. “Gretchen and I connected with Tynan Myles at Tiny Tim’s today. He lives at the house catty-corner across the street from the Singletons, where we found the bones. He wasn’t a lot of help. His mother, Grace Myles, owned the house before she turned it over to Tynan. She was probably the Singletons’ closest friend, according to Carol Jenkins, Jan Singleton’s sister. But Grace is in assisted living now and suffers from dementia. We tried to see her, but she wasn’t at her best and the powers that be at Maple Grove Assisted Living suggested we come back another time.”
“You said the bones are from an eighteen-year-old male?”
“Who would be about thirty now, if he’d lived. Tynan’s son, Grace’s grandson, is probably closer in age, but he never lived on Aurora. He lived with his mother out of state. And his wife isn’t interested in having us talk to him.”
“What about the other neighbors?”
“There’s a Chinese family in the house directly across from the Singletons. They’ve been there about five years. They’re very polite, but when I ask them questions they just nod and smile. I don’t know how much they understand. They have a grown daughter who lives in Los Angeles who I’ve talked to and who basically interprets. She says they don’t know anything, and I believe her. They haven’t been there long enough.”
“Any other houses?”
“Lots of houses, but no one who really knows the Singletons except the guy on the opposite end of the street. Gretchen had an illuminating conversation with him about pretty much everything but the Singletons, so, now I’m going over the records of people who lived on Aurora before. One house has sold six times.”
“Something’ll break.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” September grumbled. “Gretchen’s losing interest. Even though she likes the weird ones, she’s about ready to jump ship.”
Jake touched the rim of his glass to hers. “C’mon. Let’s eat. You’ll feel better.”
Chapter Eight
Saturday morning Luke drove to the Bellows’s cabin and was a little surprised to see how well-tended it was. The trees and bushes that lined the lane were trimmed back and there was fresh gravel along the lane that led to the small clearing by the lake, where a newly shingled two-story house had replaced the rustic abode Luke remembered from the pictures Bolchoy had in his file.
Luke parked and stepped out, conscious of the earthy smell of the lake and the light breeze that filtered the heat of the sun. It was late September and there was no discernible change from August. If it hadn’t been that he was worried about Andi, it would have been a perfect day.
He sprang up to the two steps to the front door, knocked loudly, and waited. Peg Bellows wouldn’t answer his phone message, but it might be harder to ignore him on her porch. He noticed the two window boxes with pink, purple, and yellow petunias bobbing their heads in the breeze. She’d put some time, effort, and money into the place, that was for certain. Maybe as a nose-thumbing to the Carreras? It was her property and she wasn’t selling.
But Bolchoy had intimated that she’d been swayed by the good-looking brothers. Maybe she’d had a change of opinion after Ted’s death. It sure looked like it.
He knocked again and waited, then moved to the front windows, peering inside. The place was clean and decorated with a more modern feel than the rustic furniture he’d expected. Was he remembering Bolchoy’s pictures, or was it merely his own expectation? Either way, this decor smelled like money . . . but if she’d sold out to the Carreras they would’ve razed the place in preparation for buying more and more land. Like the Wrens, they planned bigger, though the Wren’s lodge was bound to be more family friendly than whatever the Carreras would come up with.
He knocked a third time, pretty sure no one was around. He was turning to leave when he heard the hum of a loud engine approaching. He waited, and a truck appeared pulling a small trailer with landscaping equipment. A man jumped down and looked over at Luke inquiringly.
“Peg Bellows isn’t home?” he asked the man.
“Nah.”
“I’ve been calling her and there’s been no answer.” Luke walked toward him. “You do the landscaping around here?”
“Yep.”