“If you do learn anything…”
“I’ll let you know.”
Lauren nodded. “I’m going to keep digging into the local case.”
Pete wanted to tell her to stop. He didn’t want to hand Imperatore more ammunition.
Unless Dustin really hadn’t done it.
After the third trip, Zoe stood surrounded by stacks of boxes in what would soon be her living room. The space bore a striking resemblance to the first time she’d laid eyes on it. A ring of burglars had used the then-abandoned house as storage for their loot. At least the stuff in these boxes had all been legally obtained.
Pete passed the doorway with another load and paused to look around.
Zoe wondered if he was remembering the house when it had been a crime scene too. “I think we made a fatal flaw in planning. We should’ve brought the furniture over first.”
He made a face. “Oops.”
Lauren came up behind him, a suitcase in each hand. “Keep it moving, fella,” she said, sounding slightly winded.
The help was getting tired. Zoe stepped around one pile and reached out to take the luggage. “That’s my clothes. I’ll take those upstairs.” She looked at Pete. “Why don’t you start getting the lunch fixings out of the fridge.”
“I’ll do it,” Lauren said. “I’ll even try not to eat it all as I set it out.”
A few minutes later, a makeshift buffet covered the kitchen counters—the only place Zoe had insisted be kept clear. She watched as everyone filled paper plates and found places to settle and eat. Scott and Seth seemed to have bonded over sports and chose the hearth in what would eventually become the dining room to sit and good-naturedly argue Cleveland Browns or Pittsburgh Steelers. Abby, still avoiding Seth, retreated to the living room. Pete joined her. Lauren waited as Zoe constructed her sandwich.
“Mind if we talk?” the reporter asked.
Zoe licked mayo from her finger. “About what?”
“The feature I’m writing on Franklin Marshall. I still want to interview you for it.”
“Sure.” Zoe crossed to the folding table and chairs and gestured with a tip of her head for Lauren to join her.
“I’m almost finished with the piece,” Lauren said as she took a seat. “He was very popular with most folks.”
Zoe stopped with her sandwich halfway to her mouth. “I gather you didn’t interview Dr. Charles Davis.”
Lauren blew a short raspberry. “I heard enough from him during the election. Pompous bag of wind.”
Zoe was glad she hadn’t taken a bite yet.
Lauren placed her phone on the table between them. “Mind if I record this? It’s easier than me taking notes when I’m doing a casual interview.”
“Not at all.”
Lauren began with a series of open-ended questions prompting Zoe to tell how Franklin had mentored her in recent years, how he dealt with victims’ family members with kindness, and how he taught her to treat the deceased with respect.
“This is perfect,” Lauren said. “Now, tell me about the widow.”
Zoe had been talking so much, most of her sandwich remained un-eaten while Lauren’s was nothing but crumbs. She intentionally took a huge bite and chewed. Slowly.
Lauren waited.
When the mouthful was manageable, Zoe covered her lips with one hand and pointed to the phone with the other. “Not with that running.”
Lauren tapped the stop button. “Off the record then.”
Zoe continued to chew, debating how much to say. She didn’t entirely trust “off the record” to mean her words wouldn’t come back to bite her.
“Okay, fine.” Lauren leaned back and crossed her arms. “I’ll start. Loretta Marshall’s a bitch.”
Zoe grabbed for a napkin, choking.
“Sorry.”
After regaining her composure, Zoe said, “No, you’re not.” She swallowed and took a long drink from her bottle of pop. “I don’t know how much I can tell you other than to confirm your assessment.”
“I went back to the funeral home after I talked to you yesterday.”
“And?”
“She ran me out. Insisted the business was hers now and was closed until further notice. When I asked for details, all she said was ‘no comment.’ Then she threatened to call the cops if I didn’t leave.”
“Sounds like her.”
“But how can she own the business?”
“Paulette found the deed. Franklin’s father signed it over to them shortly before he died.”
“Even if she and Franklin had joint ownership when they were married, one or the other would’ve gotten it in the divorce. No court would’ve granted the final decree without all the property having been dealt with.” Lauren made a face. “I know this stuff from personal experience.” She shook her head. “Don’t ask.”
Zoe took another bite and chewed. Maybe Loretta really didn’t own it as she claimed.
“What’s she looking for, anyway?” Lauren asked. “When I was there, she’d ransacked the office.”
“I’m not sure.”
“My guess?” Lauren came forward, bracing her elbows on the folding table. “She’s trying to find some legal documentation backing her claim.”
“Or she’s searching for the legal document disproving it.”
Lauren’s eyes brightened. “So she can destroy it.”
Allowing Loretta to drive her out of Franklin’s old office might’ve been a mistake.
“Moving on.” Lauren wiped her fingers and deposited the crumpled napkin on the empty plate. “What can you tell me about Elizabeth Landis’ autopsy?”
“I have the report at Pete’s house but haven’t looked at it yet.”
Lauren scowled. “Why not?”
“I got sidetracked.” Zoe glanced toward the living room where she could hear Pete and Abby talking. “I was helping Abby with something. A John Doe we thought might be connected to the case.”
“The Landis case?”
“Yeah.”
Lauren moved to wake up her phone’s recorder app again.
Zoe reached across the table, stopping her.
“Aw, come on. You’re killing me.”
“It turned out to be nothing but a waste of time.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Zoe narrowed her eyes.
Lauren raised both hands clear of the recorder. “Totally off the record. I’m just curious.”
Zoe gave her a brief summary of why the John Doe had sparked Abby’s curiosity and how Zoe’s digging had shot it down.
“Interesting,” Lauren mused.
“But a dead end.”
Scott strolled into the room carrying his empty plate. “Are we allowed seconds?”
Zoe pointed to
