Chapter Thirty-Four

This was harderthan the printout, easier than the journal. It hadn't been wadded up as long as the journal, but it had plastic wrap over it.

"What is it?" Jennifer asked as I placed a second knife on a freed edge and the non-blank side began to be revealed.

"It looks like an old newspaper article," Mike said. "A clipping. But it's shrunk to fit on the page and it's really hard to read from here."

"Not easy from here, either." Diana used her phone camera again.

When she turned on the flashlight to supplement the light, a spattering of words in sub-heads caught my eye.

"May I use that?"

I didn't really wait for a yes, but was looking through the lens in a second.

I returned the phone to her and sat back, coming up against the welcomed support of Tom's chest as he leaned over my shoulder to look.

"I think — I think this is a copy of the original newspaper article with the posse member who'd chased Oscar Virtanen."

****

We couldn't readevery word, but all agreed that, based on what we could see, I was right.

Diana took pictures and video of it, zooming in methodically and sending it all to Jennifer to see what miracles she could perform.

"This is has got to be what he found in the museum boxes," Mike recapped.

"I'd bet on it," I said. "This could make Clara Atwood rearrange her priorities."

"You're going to show it to her?" Tom sounded surprised.

"Not yet. Jennifer, have you got all those files from Diana?"

"Got 'em. Will you take all three of these to Shelton?" Jennifer asked.

"We will," Tom stated.

"Absolutely," I agreed.

Jennifer frowned. "I'll see what I can do with this, but if you scanned it in, high res, that would be better and the original would be even better than that. You could make a copy for Shelton and send me—"

"Original's going to Shelton," Tom said. "And we're not taking time to scan it in ourselves."

"Why? You said the sheriff's department released the scene, so it's their own darn fault..." Jennifer's words faded out as she appeared to lean forward to peer at me. "You're trying not to smile, Elizabeth."

I tried harder.

"Oh. It's because they released the scene and you want to rub it in that they missed it."

"Elizabeth won't be turning these things over to the sheriff's department," Tom said. "I will."

He pretended not to hear my mutter of "Spoilsport."

"And we better get to the sheriff's department now."

"Not yet," Jennifer said. "Send me pictures of the letter and nutmeg tins before you take them. Just in case."

As Tom and I pulled up in front of the sheriff's department, I got the all-clear message from Jennifer. All files were secured. So at least Shelton couldn't get angry that we'd sat outside his office instead of coming in right away to hand over the evidence.

****

Tom called aneighbor to meet Tamantha at the ranch when she returned from Madison's house, then left for a slate of committee meetings. Jennifer basically said not to bother her while she and the guys worked their magic. Mike went to work his real job — being sports anchor tonight for his Chicago station.

Diana stuck around.

"Want to play Freecell?" she asked me when I came in after Tom dropped me off, possibly looking dissatisfied.

Which consisted of waiting. For Jennifer or Shelton. Whoever came first.

I was pulling for Jennifer, since I wouldn't learn anything from Shelton.

"Want to talk about it?"

"What is there to talk about?" I kicked my shoes off and curled up into one of the upholstered chairs. "Shelton has his suspect and no doubt an arrest to follow soon. All the history we found — even if Keefe's proven to be descended from Oscar and Pearl — has nothing to do with it."

"No knowledge is wasted."

I grimaced. "Thank you, Mrs. P Junior. Anyway, it's done. Over."

"I'd be more inclined to believe that if I couldn't see your face. Something's bothering you."

I tipped my head back so I couldn't see her seeing my face. "Not a thing. It's all over."

I might have fallen asleep as a result of last night's sleepover.

When I sat up, my neck was sore, but the light in the room hadn't changed.

Diana was looking at her phone and smiling.

The smile faded when she transferred her attention to me. "What?"

"Something Brenda said. Well, she's said a lot, but there's something tugging at the back of my mind."

Diana tipped her head. "About Randall trying to buy the place?"

"Mmm." I figured that sounded more encouraging than I have no idea. But whatever it was in my memory had enough muscle behind it to keep tugging.

Trying to help, Diana said, "Wendy kept saying she'd told him no."

"Mm-hmm."

"And it was his problem — and Brenda's — if they couldn't understand the word No."

"Uh-huh. But that's Wendy talking. I'm almost certain it was something Brenda said." Almost.

"Okay. Brenda said the bit about Randall and Robin leaving at four-thirty. Then—"

"No—"

"Hold on, let me keep going. Then about whether he could have come back in that truck. How Wendy wouldn't have heard him no matter what, and how he'd have made it so Brenda didn't hear him if he was smart."

"No. Not that."

"Let me think. She went back to when Randall was there. Something about him acting like he owned the place and Wendy—"

"Wait. That's it..." But it wasn't quite right. "Maybe that's it." I uncurled my legs. "That is it. Except it was today. To Tom and me. That Randall came sweeping in and — No. Not sweeping in. She said he was sweeping out."

"Out of where?" Diana asked.

"Exactly."

She frowned. "I suppose that makes sense to you, but she might have just misspoken."

"She definitely said out, sweeping out. That's why it kept tugging at me. She said he acted like he already owned the place. She could have meant it as hyperbole or something specific. And then she said he swept out. So your question Out of where? is the key. But you could be right that she misspoke. We'll just have to ask her and — What are you doing?"

"We're going back up to the ranch, aren't we? I'm calling my kids to take something out of the freezer and defrost it, because I won't be home in time to do that myself."