“Idol is of interest, of course. There are cultural implications. But I stay away from anything too… well… tabloid.” Kara examined her fingernails and seemed downright bored.
Uh-oh. Maybe attitude hadn’t left the building after all. It had just taken a different form.
“Isn’t that a sorry shame?” Candace said. “Those supermarket rags are my favorite. I love celebrity stuff. If you wrote for the Enquirer or one of those types of newspapers, then you’d be the celebrity.”
I knew that it was Candace’s mother who loved the Enquirer. Candace thought tabloids were trash and always made fun of the stories her mother believed to be one hundred percent true. So where was she going with this?
“Those tabloids aren’t newspapers,” Kara said.
“Coulda fooled me.”
I noted the smile playing at Candace’s lips as she stood and began to clear the remnants of our late lunch. She’d gotten under Kara’s skin and now seemed satisfied. I resisted the urge to say something. I wasn’t sure why Candace didn’t like Kara, but I also wasn’t sure how Kara would react if I got in the middle of their verbal sparring.
Candace said, “Rain’s let up. After we clean up, time for me to see if our bad guy left any evidence on your back porch that hasn’t washed away. Darn it all if I don’t hate rain.”
She put the condiments away while I started filling the dishwasher. Kara retreated, saying she wanted to record notes on what she’d learned about the murders. After she was gone, Candace whispered, “Did your husband raise that spoiled brat?”
“What makes you think she’s spoiled?” I said.
“Intuition,” Candace said.
“John did let her have everything she wanted-and I warned him that wasn’t the greatest idea,” I said. “He was trying to make up for Kara losing her mother and for him working long hours. I guess, most of all, for not giving his daughter the attention she needed when she needed it the most. But he had no clue how to raise a teenage girl.”
“She was in college when you two married?” Candace said.
“A freshman at the University of Texas. A little late to set limits, and besides, it wasn’t my place. I hope you’ll cut her some slack, because I don’t think she’s over losing John or her mother.”
“But you’re getting there,” Candace said. “You actually criticized John, and you’ve never done that before.”
I picked up the sponge and wiped down the table’s mosaic-tile top. “He was no saint, and neither am I.”
“I took a grief-counseling course. To teach me how to say the right things to folks who’d lost loved ones. I recall that teacher telling us that once you stop idealizing the person who died, you’re on your way to accepting the loss.”
“Oh, I believe I’m accepting the loss, all right.” I walked over to the sink and dropped the crumbs I’d cleared from the table into the disposal. I told her about the kiss Tom and I shared last night.
Candace shoved my shoulder and said, “No way.”
I winced. I was beginning to feel sore all over after what had happened earlier. And I still had scratches and cuts from crawling over barbed wire.
She realized what she’d done and immediately apologized, then glanced toward the door. “Wish my stuff would arrive. I need to take pictures of your injuries. Did you know you’ve got bruises on your neck?”
My hand went to my throat. “No. And I don’t think I own a turtleneck.”
“You don’t need to hide what happened to you, Jillian. It’s not your fault.”
“I guess you’re right, but before another minute passes,” I said, “I have to know why you’re willing to stay here with me. There’s something else going on.”
“I thought you understood, especially after what we just talked about,” she said. “I have to keep an eye on Kara. I can smell trouble a mile away, and she’s trouble. So while I’m protecting you, I’m watching her like a hawk. I don’t want her all up in my business, and that’s exactly where she wants to be.”
“She’s not dangerous. She’s looking for answers, just like we are,” I said.
“Answers that I need to find, not her,” Candace said.
She seemed upset that I was defending Kara, but before I could reassure her, the doorbell rang.
When I answered, with Candace right beside me, Billy Cranor stood bearing gifts: the evidence kit with the camera, the laptop and a file folder. He stepped inside and brought Candace’s prized possessions into the living room.
“Heard some butthead came around threatening you, Ms. Hart,” Billy said. “Wish I’d been here.”
I smiled. “I wish you’d been here, too.”
Billy set Candace’s things on the end table, and of course his appearance brought cats out from under the dining room table to investigate. They knew Billy and found him far less fascinating than Candace’s belongings. But though Merlot and Syrah were all over that evidence bag, Chablis didn’t come up from the basement to visit. She sure must have loved cuddling with her adopted kittens.
“Long time no see, Candy.” Billy laughed. “What’s it been? Two hours?”
She smiled and fixed a few wayward strands of blond hair over her ear. This was her fireman-calendar fantasy man, but he always treated her like a sister. And that bothered her. “Kind of you to drag my stuff around town. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. We’ve got more trouble in Mercy than we know what to do with. Any way I can help, I will,” he said.
“Hi,” came Kara’s voice from the foyer. “We have more visitors?”
“Kara, meet Billy Cranor,” I said. “He’s a volunteer fireman and also knows how to fix just about anything. Works at the hardware store.”
She entered the room, and I couldn’t look at Candace after I saw Billy nearly start panting at the site of Kara in her tiny shorts and tank top. I’d never seen Candace jealous before, but that might be about to change.
“Pleased to meet you, Kara. You got a last name?” he said.
“Hart,” she answered.
“Are you Ms. Hart’s sister, then?” He looked at me. “You never said anything about a sister.”
Kara laughed. “She married my father, that’s all. We’re not blood relatives.”
“How long you visiting for?” Billy said.
Candace was moving her evidence kit away from further cat inspection, but Billy’s question made her head snap up. She and I were both interested in the answer.
“Don’t know. Very cute town. And it’s growing on me,” Kara said.
“Mercy is the finest place you’ll ever want to visit,” Billy said.
“Except for the murders, you mean?” Kara said.
Billy’s face reddened, and his interest in Kara seemed to go from “Gee, I’d like to get to know you better” to something more like “What’s your problem, lady?” Did Kara have a clue how condescending she sometimes sounded?
“Still the best place in the world,” Billy said. “Listen, I got to get back to work. Have an engine to clean after all this rain. Fire trucks gotta sparkle.” He nodded at Candace and me. “Take care, ladies.” To Kara he said, “Nice to make your acquaintance.”
“One favor, Billy?” Candace said.
“Sure.”
“That professor’s family is due in town,” Candace said, “but we don’t know when. You’ve always got your ear to the ground, so will you call me when they get here?”
“You betcha,” Billy said.
After he left, Kara said, “Nice body, but such a hick. Did my father really like Mercy and these types?”
“I thought you said the town was growing on you. Your father loved Mercy,” I said softly.
Kara said. “He must have had his reasons, and that tells me I need to understand the town better if I’m going to write the book that’s starting to come to life in my head.”
Candace, her cheeks rosy with what I assumed was anger, had her camera out. “Jillian? How’s about we go to the bedroom and I’ll photograph those bruises.”
“Sure.” We started down the hall together, but Kara was on our heels.
