Seven

After Gil left, the three of them moved back to the kitchen together and were silent. Kate ate her eggs while Sara cooked an endless supply of bacon-wrapped cheese sticks. Jack ate them while trying to scratch under his cast.

The words now what? might as well have been a neon sign flashing above their heads.

"If we could just find someone who knew her," Kate said.

"Who am I?" Jack asked. "The Invisible Man? I knew Cheryl better than anyone."

"Okay, then who hated her enough to murder her and her mother?" Kate said, but Jack had no answer.

"Or loved them enough." Sara slid another pan full of bits onto Jack's plate.

"Love. Hate. They're the same deep level of emotions."

"I think it had to be love," Jack said.

Sara halted, the granite-topped counter between them. "We can talk to Elaine Langley, but Cheryl seemed to be such a loner that I wonder if it will lead anywhere. But someone must have known them. People don't live in isolation in this town—or anywhere, for that matter. All we've looked at is the school. Who lived in the houses around theirs?"

"They were rentals," Jack said. "Two-week snowbirds. In and out. Nonpaying visitors."

"What does that mean?" Kate asked.

"August heat is the price Floridians pay for the perfection of February. Snowbirds are people who show up just during the winter. They get the good without paying for it."

"But then they go away," Sara said quickly. "We need to find people to talk to. Who might have known them on an adult level?"

Jack popped another bacon bit into his mouth. "Let's call all the husbands and ask if they were ever one of Verna's customers."

"Right, no problem," Kate said with a roll of her eyes. "And all the high-school boys, while we're at it. Maybe one of them thought he couldn't survive hearing the word no."

"Cheryl told Gil he was her ‘second favorite,'" Sara said. "So who was first?"

"Flynn," Jack said. The women gave small smiles, but there was no real humor.

Kate got up to get some of the photos Sara had run off. The two skeletons were vivid against the dirt of the tree roots. She tapped the picture that clearly showed a hole in one skull. "This isn't fair. That girl had ambition. She knew what she wanted. Most teenagers have no idea, but Cheryl had goals and worked toward them."

"Maybe Verna's second job was meant to raise money for her daughter. College is expensive," Sara said.

"I think her dad was going to help with that," Jack said. He looked up to see the women glaring at him.

"Who was Cheryl's father?" Sara's voice was almost a threat.

"No idea," Jack said. "One time Cheryl said her mother's friend had bought her some diamond earrings. I guess to my kid mind that meant ‘father.' But now I think that probably wasn't what she meant."

"I'd like to hypnotize you to get every bit of information of that time out of you," Sara said.

"You'd be embarrassed," he said. "Like Gil said, I also had, uh, dreams about Cheryl."

"At eleven?" Kate said.

Sara was cleaning the countertops. "I wouldn't be shocked at all. Sex was part of what I used to write about. Knees, hands, mouths, where what went when. Sometimes I had to use action figures to keep body parts straight. After that, I don't embarrass easily."

Kate ate one of Jack's million-calorie cheesy bacon bits. "I've been meaning to tell you how much I like your books. I had to sneak to read them or Mom would have been angry."

"When you were eleven?" Jack mocked her tone.

"No. Last month. My mother believes I'm a virgin."

"I think you're a virgin," Jack said.

"More of your fanciful dreams?" Kate said. "Speaking of sublime sexual fantasies, would you mind if I invited Alastair Stewart to the house? He'd like to see what you've done with it."

"Everyone in Lachlan wants to see this house," Jack said. "But it's private."

"Don't let me forget to send Detective Cotilla an autographed book."

"You should hold a big autographing and clean out the garage," Jack said. "There must be a hundred boxes in there. Wish I could give a book to Cheryl." He halted, the last bacon bit on the way to his mouth.

Kate's eyes opened wide, and Sara froze, dishcloth in hand. They looked at one another.

"An autographing in memory of Cheryl and Verna Morris," Jack said.

"And when they come to meet the world-famous, reclusive author Sara Medlar, we'll ask them questions," Kate said.

Sara groaned. "I liked the idea up until now, but I don't relish being the bait."

Jack held out the last bacon-and-cheese to Kate and she took it.

"The funeral is Tuesday," Kate said. "It's Friday. Is there time to arrange something? And what about the funeral itself? Where does the county bury unwanted people?"

"Unwanted. What an awful word!" Sara looked at Jack. "Think your mom and Ivy could arrange a nice funeral? Lots of flowers? My expense?"

"Of course," Jack said.

"And a memorial service held in this house?" Kate asked. "Food, et cetera?"

Sara nodded, but she looked like she was agreeing to her execution.

Jack spoke up. "People will come if there's food but how do we weed out the ones who know nothing about Cheryl or her mom?"

"Good point," Kate said. "What man is going to say that he was insane with lust for the sweet, innocent Cheryl? Or was a client of Verna?"

Sara walked around the counter. "If you offer people something they really, really want, you can usually get them to give you something you want."

"I don't mean to be a downer," Kate said, "but a pretty house and a free book aren't going to make people confess to murder."

"Jack!" Sara said. "How much do people of this town want to see what you did to the Stewart Mansion?"

"An arm's worth. And maybe a leg. Definitely give up their firstborn."

Kate opened her mouth to ask why, but Sara put up her hand. "The Stewart family used to own all the land that the town's built on. Take it from someone who's written eleven medieval novels, this place was a fiefdom. Old Judge Stewart was a tyrant—but he was a good despot. Fair and just, as well as ruthless."

She took a step away. "His son was in my class in high school. Nice guy, but he wimped out and married a snob of a girl from old money. It was the judge's idea. He wanted to upgrade the family name."

"She's talking about your Viking's parents." Jack was smiling.

"People in glass houses," Kate snapped, then looked at Sara. "You're saying the peasants would dearly love to see the castle."

"Exactly!" Sara said.

"So we lower the drawbridge and let the great unwashed enter," Jack said. "Then what?"

"We can't let just anyone in," Kate said. "Even for a memorial service, it would be worse than an open house at a mansion. We have to vet people." She got off the stool. "It must be invitation-only. We send out invitations to Cheryl's classmates and to anyone we can find who knew Verna. Surely someone in town knew them well enough to know their secrets."

"Mom," Jack said and they looked at him. "She runs the Lachlan High School Alumni Association. She has addresses of people who attended in what year."

"All right," Sara said. "This is good. But how do we get them to talk?"

"Charge them," Jack said. He was rubbing hard under his cast. "In order to get in to view the castle, get a free autographed book and lots of cheese and bacon, they have to tell what they know about the Morris girls."

Kate and Sara were staring at him.

"A pirate with a brain," Kate said. "Will wonders never cease?"

It was such an odd remark that they laughed. This was something they could do. Not sit and accept what was being handed out to them, but an action. At the very least, it would honor two women whose lives had been cut short.

"We can try," Kate said and they agreed.

Jack took out his phone, called his mother and filled her in.

"Of course I'll do it," she said. "What's Sara's niece like?"

"Stop trying to matchmake." Jack was watching Kate put pans in the dishwasher. "Ol' Alastair Stewart has already laid claim to her."

"Is that jealousy I hear?"

Jack didn't answer. "Could you go to the funeral home and set this up?"

"For Tuesday morning at ten, right? I guess you guys got the sheriff's permission for all this, didn't you?" When her son was silent, Heather groaned. "Really, Jack! That man thinks he's the king of this town. You can't put on a huge funeral and a memorial service for the victims in his case and not tell him. He'll be so mad he'll give you speeding tickets for walking too fast."

"The pirate's mother isn't dumb," he said.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. It's just Kate's sense of humor. She likes to make fun of me."

Kate rolled her eyes.

"Oh?" Heather sounded like she was ready to defend her son.

"It's not like that. She can be pretty funny. I'm a pirate and her boyfriend is a Viking."

"When do I meet her?" Heather asked eagerly.

"As soon as you show up with the current names and addresses of Cheryl Morris's classmates."

"Like they keep me up-to-date. Ha! Half the emails I send them get that Mailer-Daemon thing. What does that mean, anyway? Wait! I know. I'll call Janet."

"Who?"

"Janet Beeson. Church secretary. She's good at finding people."

"Get whoever you need to. I better go. I have to tell Sara and Kate that we have to go to the sheriff."

"And Kate,"Heather said softly. "I'll be over as soon as I can. Love you."

"Back at you."

They hung up. Jack didn't need to tell the women what his mother had said as they'd listened to it all.

"We'll go see Flynn right away and get him to postpone the funeral. We need more time." Sara looked at Jack. He and the sheriff weren't exactly buddies. "Maybe you..."

"Should stay home and wash my truck?"

Before Sara could speak, Kate said, "Stay home and try to remember everything you can about Cheryl and her mother."

"I think I can do that best beside the pool."

Kate wished she could stay with him, but she didn't say so. She changed into a dress, and Sara into pants and a blouse—nice clothes for visiting the sheriff. After Sara talked to Heather and gave permission to set up a research team in her house, she and Kate got in the bright yellow MINI Cooper and headed into town. Kate drove. "Mind if I ask you a personal question?"

Sara gripped the armrest hard. "Sure. Go ahead."

Kate grimaced at her aunt's obvious reluctance to talk of personal matters. "My mother said you used to weigh a lot."

"I did." Sara's relief made her exhale so hard the papers on her lap fluttered. "I lost it. Turn here."

Kate pulled into the parking lot and they got out. "I gain weight really easily and Mom said I get it from your side of the family."

"She still eating brownies before she goes to bed?"

It was disconcerting to hear someone talk of what Kate thought only she knew.

"Yes."

"With maraschino cherries in them?"

"Oh, yes." Kate's voice was full of longing as she held the door open for Sara. "And almonds."

"However did you resist them? I know I wasn't able to."

"An evil thing called a scale."

"The Medlar iron lady. Pure torture."

They stopped in front of the desk and a tall, good-looking young man in a brown uniform with a deputy badge pinned to his chest asked how he could help them. He was trying to hide it, but he was blinking at Sara as if she was a movie star.

Suddenly, Sara was smiling and sounding as though the deputy was the most interesting person she'd ever met.

He was glowing under the attention. "I'm sure he's not busy. Come on and I'll show you in." They followed him.

Kate whispered to Sara, "If you'd given him an autographed book, he might have fainted."

"Then he'd go online and say that he didn't like the scene on page 268. The rest of the book was great, but he gave it one star because that scene reminded him of something bad that happened to him when he was a kid. Or worse, he found something that wasn't politically correct."

She sounded so fatalistic that Kate started to ask questions—but then they saw the sheriff. They'd caught him eating a doughnut and he didn't like being found out.

Kate expected Sara to use her charming persona, as she'd done with the deputy, but she didn't. Maybe the contemptible things the sheriff had said before were too much for her.

They sat down and looked at him across his big wooden desk.

"We want to postpone the funeral to next Friday." Sara's tone had no softness to it; she was meeting with an enemy.

"No," Sheriff Flynn replied in the same tone. "Anything else?"

When Sara started to speak again, Kate put her hand on her aunt's forearm. "We'd like to put on a memorial service for them," Kate said with a smile. "And Aunt Sara wants to pay for a funeral and a burial site. They deserve that, don't you think?"

The sheriff turned his chair a bit, as though he was dismissing Sara. "I have to think of the whole town—not just a couple of women no one remembers."

"You—" Sara's voice was angry, but Kate dug her fingers into her arm.

"I'm new here," she said. "Could you please explain to me what's going on?" She batted her lashes at him.

Frowning, he seemed to debate whether or not to say more. "I know I'm being seen as the bad guy in all this, but I'm trying to protect young Jack." He ignored the snort of derision that Sara gave. "Roy and I are the same age, and when we were in school, he was the kind of jerk who thought it was funny to shut little kids in lockers. A real bully. Contrary to what some people think—" he cut his eyes at Sara "—I have a reason for being so hard on Jack. I don't want him to become like his father."

He narrowed his eyes at Kate, emphasizing what he wanted to say. "Right now the gossip around this town is strong. Roy Wyatt had a big mouth and several people remember him bragging that he had ‘set those Morris women straight.' Everyone—including me—thought he meant he'd made them leave town. Too many people knew about Verna, so nobody complained when she took her daughter and ran off in the middle of the night."

The sheriff leaned forward. "They're not saying that anymore. Now they're asking what else Roy could have meant. And maybe it's not a coincidence that Roy's son bought the property where the bodies were found. I'm being stopped on the street and asked why I haven't brought Jack in for questioning. And..." He paused. "They're asking what really happened that caused Evan to be killed. They're saying that maybe Jack was drunk and it was actually him doing the driving."

The sheriff turned his chair around. "The longer it takes to lay those bodies to rest, the stronger the gossip will be. I don't know how many copies of those videos are out there, but heaven help Jack if one of them goes viral. It would change his life. That's why I want to get those bones in the ground ASAP."

What the sheriff said was making Kate feel queasy. She swallowed. "But a memorial service?" she asked. "Something simple? Maybe it will help."

He took time to consider. "It might be good if you put that on. Give people something else to think about. And it'll keep Jack busy. I don't want that temper of his getting him thrown in my jail."

He looked at his watch. "I have to go. Work with the secretary to set up a funeral. And keep me informed of everything." He leaned back in his chair, his face saying that was the end. No more questions; no more answers; they were to leave.