A Justified Murder (Medlar Mystery #2)(15)

The girls hung their heads and said nothing.

With a sigh, Jack sat back down. “Out with it.”

“The next day,” Britney said, “the texts about me started.”

“I thought you were grounded,” Jack said.

“We still had our phones.” Madison was looking at Jack as though he were daft.

“What did the texts say?” Sara asked.

“That I was fat and ugly and—”

“We didn’t send them!” Ashley’s teeth were clenched. “We’ve told you that a thousand times!”

“But they came from your phones.” Britney sounded exasperated.

“But we didn’t—”

“Okay,” Sara said loudly. “What you believe can be as important as the truth. What happened then?”

The two girls looked at Britney, then they held hands.

“I took some of my mother’s pills. Too many of them.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I just wanted my friends back.” She wiped away the tears. “Mrs. Beeson found me and called an ambulance. She saved my life.”

“How did she know what you were doing?” Sara asked.

The girls looked down at their hands and didn’t speak.

“Facebook?” Kate asked.

Britney nodded but didn’t look up.

Sara’s eyes widened. “You took pills in front of a camera? I’ve heard of that, but—” She took a deep breath and her voice lowered. “You didn’t want a life without friends—and neither did Mrs. Beeson.”

Britney’s head was down and big tears were dropping onto her hands.

Again, Jack stood up, but this time he wasn’t angry. “Come on, I’m going to drive all of you home.”

The girls looked up in alarm.

“And yes, I’m going to wake up your parents to be sure they know you sneaked out. Tomorrow they’re going to go with you to answer the sheriff’s questions.”

When they didn’t move, he said loudly, “Up. Now!”

The girls obeyed.

Kate went after him. “I’ll go with you.”

“No,” Jack said. “Get some sleep.” His face softened. “But thanks for the offer.”

When Kate awoke again, it was nearly 9:00 a.m. and the house was blessedly quiet. She sent a text to her boss, Tayla, saying she’d be late, then took her time showering and dressing. She felt groggy and her mind was full of what she’d heard last night.

The smell of bacon cooking drew her into the kitchen.

Jack was sitting at the counter, his laptop open; Aunt Sara was at the big induction range.

“You okay?” He didn’t look up.

“Fine,” Kate said. “There weren’t any more visitors last night, were there? I could have slept through a riot.”

“Just two,” Jack said.

“Did I really sleep through them?”

Sara put bacon on a platter. “Jack called that security firm we used last time and they came right away. They sent away the other people who felt they needed to confess.”

“The guards told them to write their stories and email them to me.” He turned his laptop to face her. “Like to read them?”

“No.” She took the stool beside him. “Was there a motive for murder in any of them?”

“For Janet to eliminate some people, yes,” Sara said. “After all I’ve heard, I don’t understand why she stayed in Lachlan.”

Kate made herself a bowl of cereal. “So tell me what the people said.”

Jack turned his computer back around. “Valerie Johnson showed up at six a.m. She felt she had to tell us that she wasn’t very nice after she won a crochet contest and Janet came in second. I think Miss Val gloated about her win.”

Kate yawned. “So Janet murdered her, right?”

“My thoughts, exactly.” Sara put a platter of deviled eggs before them.

Jack continued. “About a year ago, Lyn Kelson, hairdresser, had a very bad day and accidentally dyed Janet’s hair a greenish gray.”

Kate tried to suppress a laugh but was only half-successful. “She changed it back, right?”

“Yes, but they had to wait forty-eight hours. Poor Janet had to wear a scarf over her hair for the whole weekend.”

“Let me guess,” Sara said. “Janet was very nice about it all.”

“She was. She shamed them by being—and I quote—‘absolutely lovely about everything.’ She even bought a scarf that coordinated with the green of her hair.”

Kate ate her high-fiber cereal and a couple of deviled eggs. “No doubt the Nesbitt boys saw her hair and that influenced their idea of her being a witch. Is it just me who thinks all this is ridiculous? Why would anyone consider themselves to be a murder suspect over such tiny things? We all gloat when we win. One time a hairdresser dyed my mother’s hair a shade of apricot. I thought it was very pretty. Why do these people think they’ll be suspected of murder?”

Jack and Kate looked at Sara.

“Why are you two staring at me?”

“Because you’re the writer,” Jack said. “You wrote seventy-some books so you should be able to come up with an idea of who, what, and why.”