A Justified Murder (Medlar Mystery #2)(5)

“Yes.” Kate’s smile showed her relief.

“I agree,” Jack said.

Smiling, Sara nodded. “Okay, Kate, go talk to Heather. When you get back, tell me what you learned, I’ll write it up, and we’ll give a report to Sheriff Flynn. Then we’re done with all of this. Does that sound good?”

“Excellent,” Kate said.

“Yes,” Jack added. “Whoever did that to Mrs. Beeson is dangerous. And insane.”

“Or driven to insanity by something that we obviously don’t know about,” Sara said. “We’ll meet back here by six. Jack, get a couple of pounds of prawns.”

“It’s not my turn for the grocery. I’d have to make a second trip.”

Kate knew what he wanted. “Okay! You can go with me to your mom’s.”

“Good idea. Maybe while you two are talking, Mom might cook something. Don’t look at me like that. I missed lunch.”

“Whatever,” Kate said, then turned to hide her smile. She didn’t relish the idea of talking about death—especially a brutal one—to anyone.

Heather’s pretty kitchen was designed by her daughter and built by her son. She was at the stove finishing a pot of minestrone while Jack and Kate sat at the counter. There was a platter of snacks before them: raw veg for her, cheese and crackers for him.

“We heard about the suicide,” Heather said.

Her back was to them so she didn’t see Kate start to speak, then Jack shaking his head no.

“You heard through Wilson’s police radio?” he asked.

“Yes.” Heather was stirring the big pot. “I hate to say it, but I do understand why she did it. That poor woman.”

“You know why she committed suicide?” Kate asked.

“Yes.” Heather tasted the soup, then added more oregano.

“We’d appreciate anything you can tell us about Janet Beeson,” Kate said.

Instantly, Heather looked at Kate in alarm. What had happened before when they’d involved themselves in a death had been harrowing. She’d lost her beloved stepson and had almost lost her son.

“It’s for Sheriff Flynn’s report,” Jack said loudly. “Sara is going to write it. She’s good at it and Flynn isn’t so...” He trailed off.

“And you know Aunt Sara. Anything for a story.” Kate gave what she hoped was a convincing smile, a truthful smile.

Heather took a moment to relax the tension in her body. “Good. That makes sense.” She paused as she collected her thoughts. “What I remember most about Janet is that two years ago her best friend, Sylvia Alden, also killed herself.”

Kate gasped.

“Alden?” Jack asked. “Was she married to Tom Alden?”

“You remember him for his boat, don’t you?” Heather smiled fondly at her son. There wasn’t much resemblance between them. Jack took after his father and grandfather. The woman he looked the most like was his Brazilian great-grandmother. Her dark hair and eyes had passed straight down the line to him.

“Yeah, I remember his boat. When he put it up for sale, I wanted it so bad I couldn’t sleep.”

“You were too young.”

“I could have handled it. If Dad—”

Kate interrupted, “What do you know about Mrs. Beeson?”

“Not much. I know she showed up at our church six years ago.” She looked at Kate. “I remember everything of that year. Jack had just bought three rotten old houses and I thought he was going to go bankrupt. It was a stressful time.” Again, she smiled adoringly at her son. “Janet was so quiet and unassuming that at first no one paid any attention to her. But she volunteered for one thing after another in town and at church. By the next year, we were all depending on her. We were unanimous in voting for her to be the church secretary.”

“What about Mrs. Alden?” Jack asked. “I don’t remember her at all, but Tom was a great guy.”

“They retired to Lachlan years ago. Mrs. Alden—Sylvia—stayed to herself. She attended church sometimes but not often. Her husband was a picture of health, but one day he pulled his car off the road and he was found there hours later. Massive heart attack. His funeral wasn’t here. People came from the East and took his body away, and Sylvia was gone for months. But she returned to Lachlan and became even more of a recluse. We should have...”

Heather sighed. “Anyway, not long after Mr. Alden passed, Janet Beeson came to town. I don’t know how she and Sylvia met, but soon you didn’t see one without the other.” She smiled. “Janet was short and round and Sylvia was tall and thin. Sylvia was older, but still... You know...”

“What?” Kate asked.

“It’s awful of me to repeat gossip, but when they were together, people said it was like seeing a lady and her maid. Sylvia was so very elegant. She was one of those women who could put on jeans and a sweatshirt and look couture. Of course she’d also have on a pearl necklace and tasteful little earrings.”

“What about Janet?” Kate asked. “How did she dress?”

Heather hesitated.

“Janet could put on couture and still look like the dustman’s daughter?” Kate asked.

“Sad to say so, but yes,” Heather said. “But however they looked, they were as tight as teenage girls. Went everywhere together. I remember someone from church asking if they went to the bathroom together. Then someone else said they were probably lovers and—” She waved her hand. “Just gossip.”