Chapter 7

7

"I would say I didn't believe you," I said. "If you were responsible for your sister's death, why would you come here today, telling me you wanted me to find the person who killed her?"

We were back inside the office, sitting at my desk.

"Responsibility comes in many forms," Claudette said. "There are more ways to kill a person than with a bullet through the heart."

"Care to explain?"

Claudette folded one hand over the other, resting them on her lap. "When I didn't respond to my sister's first letter, she sent me a second one. It arrived a few days before she died. I'm sorry to admit I didn't read it. Well, I read it, but not until after I heard she was dead."

"Tell me about the second letter."

"It was a continuation of what she'd said in her first letter, all except for the end. She made a comment about fearing for her life. At the time, I assumed she was being dramatic. I interpreted it to mean she feared living a life without Marlon in it. Now I'm concerned I may have been incorrect in my thinking."

"Why?"

"When we were young, long before Marlon came into the picture, we were close. We grew up with nothing. Our parents couldn't scrape two pennies together, which isn't to say they didn't do all they could for us. They were hard times. When it came to entertainment, we had to create it for ourselves. I suppose it's the reason my sister loved books and libraries. The library was a place she could go to get away from reality, a place she could create a world of her own. She was always a bit shy, and the library was a quiet place where she could sit and observe others without them noticing, something she's always liked to do."

She seemed to be steering me in a direction, but which direction we were headed in, I wasn't sure.

"Are you saying your sister was an eavesdropper or observant or …?" I asked.

"She used to take notes about things she saw and overheard. I bet she knew more about the people in this town than they knew about themselves, and because she was the quiet sort, she often blended into the background, went unnoticed."

"When she took notes, where did she keep them?"

"In a notebook. Now, I have no way of knowing whether she continued to observe and write things down after we'd parted ways, but I'm inclined to believe she did."

"The police haven't mentioned anything about finding any notes she may have written," I said.

"It doesn't mean they didn't. Maybe they did, and they didn't tell you."

She was right, though I felt certain Foley or Whitlock would have mentioned it to me if they had.

"You said you were at your sister's house this morning," I said. "Did you find anything or see anything I should know about?"

"I did not. I … it was the first time I've stepped foot inside her house."

"I can't imagine what it must have been like."

"Do you know she had an entire wall in her hallway dedicated to photos of us throughout the years?"

"I did. My mother mentioned it to me."

"I spent so many years rejecting her, not allowing her back into my heart, and all along she was honoring the history we shared together. I'll bet she thought I'd come around, but I never did. I don't believe I'll ever forgive myself for that. We always assume we have time to make things right, to right our wrongs, but time has a funny way of slipping through our fingers. We blink, and it's run out, and there's not a thing we can do to get it back."

She flicked a single tear from her eye, and I grabbed a tissue, handing it to her.

She waved it away. "I'm fine. My sister left everything to me, you know, in her will."

"I didn't know."

"It's one of the reasons I'm here. Her estate lawyer phoned and asked me to meet with him. After Marlon died, she changed her will, leaving everything, all her assets to me."

"Did she mention it in the letters she wrote you?"

"She did not." Claudette reached inside her handbag, pulling out a couple of envelopes secured together with a rubber band. She slapped them down on the desk in front of me. "These are the letters my sister sent me before she died. See for yourself."

I removed the rubber band from the envelopes, took the letters out, and glanced over each one. Claudette was right. There was no mention of Cordelia leaving anything to her sister in her will. Had she done so, it would have been easy for me to consider Claudette a suspect. But she didn't strike me as a woman who wanted for anything.

"Do you mind if I make a copy of these?" I asked.

Claudette swished a hand through the air. "I have no use for them. They're yours to keep. I've given a lot of thought to my sister's murder, and I don't believe it was happenstance. It's my opinion that she saw or overheard something she shouldn't have, and she was killed for it."

"I've had the same thoughts."

"I spoke to the police before I came here. They have no leads and no suspects, which is frustrating. It's why I've come to you. I'd like to speed this process along. What do you think? Will you take the case or not?"

Since Cordelia's death, I'd spoken to Foley about the investigation a couple of times, trying not to be too intrusive with my questions, which for me, wasn't easy. I preferred to be in on the action, and with Claudette sitting in front of me, offering to pay me for the privilege, the decision was an easy one.

"I will take your case," I said. "I'll meet with my team, give them the details, and we'll start looking into it today."