She pushed back her chair and hurried to the desk, returning with the box. She opened it and quickly thumbed through the contents. “That’s weird.” She shot me a suspicious glance. “You’re messing with my mind. Where did you put the picture?”
“Do not succumb to paranoia. Why would I take a photograph?”
“Why not? You write notes…I mean I write notes…I wouldn’t take the picture…why would I do that?” She jumped up, rushed to a dresser, opened drawers, fumbled through lingerie and clothing. “I want that picture. Maybe I put it in my things to take home.” She rushed to the closet.
I followed, leaned against the doorjamb. “Tell me about the picture.” I used my most soothing tone.
She glared. “Don’t talk to me as if I’m demented.”
I shrugged and returned to the table. I poured another cup of coffee.
Finally, she dropped into the chair opposite me. “I found a photograph in the ebony box of Jack in his cap and gown when he graduated from high school. He was incredibly handsome and young.” Her smile was tremulous. “That’s the attraction of youth, the innocence, the lack of foreknowledge. He didn’t know how many times his heart would be broken, how much life could hurt. Not then.”
“Was that the only photograph in the box?”
“The only one. It can’t be the photograph he mentioned in his e-mail. That picture upset him. I don’t understand why anyone would take the graduation picture.” Slowly her face changed. “Maybe someone else wanted to remember him when he was young.”
“That could be why.”
“I understand.” Her voice was soft. “Anyway, I don’t know what picture he was talking about in that e-mail. Either he put that picture somewhere and I haven’t found it or someone removed it before I looked in the box.” She glanced toward the door.
Either was a possibility. I reassured her. “Let’s not waste time worrying about a photograph. We know he was shocked and upset, both by a photograph and the circumstances he’d found at The Castle. It’s up to us to find out what he did and when. I can help.”
“It would make me feel better if you disappeared.” Kay reached for another piece of toast. “Come on, sometimes you’re here and sometimes you aren’t. Wouldn’t you like to disappear?” Her tone was coaxing.
“Then you’d be upset when I picked up my coffee mug. Thanks, but I’ll remain visible for now. In any event, I’m not important.” Actually, everyone’s important in Heaven, but I hoped my modesty would charm her. “What matters is finding out who killed Jack. When you interview the people Jack saw, keep these points in mind: Evelyn Hume has no difficulty moving quickly and quietly around The Castle. Ronald Phillips picks up Hume family background at the historical society, like Jack being in James’s wedding, and feeds the facts to Laverne for the seances. Laverne is either afraid for him or of him. She lied last night when she told you they were together when she heard the vase crash. Diane Hume’s hoping for guidance from her dead husband, but she’s afraid to tell Laverne what she wants to know. Jimmy Hume hit golf balls like he was killing snakes, then glared through the kitchen window at Shannon Taylor. Shannon got upset talking about you and Jack. She said—” I hesitated.
Kay licked a smear of marmalade from one finger. “Nothing Shannon says about me would come as a surprise. Go ahead.”
“She said, ‘Jack didn’t care about her. I know who he was sneaking around to see.’”
“Poor kid.” Kay’s voice was kind. “Jack turned her down, so she’s convinced he had to be involved with someone else. That’s not true. He was focused on problems, not another woman. He was magic”—her lips trembled a little—“and he was honest. In his next-to-last e-mail, he wanted me to come home with him. He wouldn’t have urged me to come to Africa with him if he’d plunged into a passionate affair.”
I saw confidence in her face as well as sorrow.
I wondered if she was missing something important, something powerful in Jack’s last days, because she didn’t believe he would betray her. I hoped she was right, but I wasn’t certain.
Kay was confident of her analysis. “The question about Shannon is whether she was angry enough by his rejection to wish him dead.”
To me, Shannon’s anger was a separate question from whether she was right or wrong in connecting Jack to another woman.
We could argue this possibility another time. “We’ll keep an open mind.”
“Open?” She made a sound similar to a strangled snort. “My mind’s as full of holes as Swiss cheese. Maybe”— she brightened—“I can push you out.”
“Maybe.” My tone was encouraging. She might feel better if she clung to the pathetic hope that I would depart. “For now, we’re working together. I suggest you start your research with Evelyn.”
She finished the sweet roll, poured another cup of coffee. She’d almost emptied the cup when her gaze slid toward me. “Why Evelyn?”
Kay might insist I didn’t exist, but she wasn’t going to take a chance on missing out on a good piece of information, whether from me or her subconscious.
Our relationship might be rocky, but, like it or not, Kay and I were going to be a team. I gave her an encouraging smile. “Older sister. Younger brother. The years of separation don’t matter. No one knows anyone better than a sibling.”
I disappeared.
CHAPTER SIX
Evelyn Hume sat at a stone table on the upper terrace in the shade of a cottonwood. As Kay approached, Evelyn’s head turned in the direction of the footsteps. The silvered dark hair drawn back into a tight bun emphasized the gauntness of her face. The family resemblance was evident, the same strong features as her brother Jack, but with no glimmer of charm or humor.
