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"I was at work when Stark was killed." Randy scratched his ear with a smirk.
Lacey scrunched her nose at him. "I thought you had a meeting to go to."
"This is more interesting. How your mind works."
"Well, you know." The detective rocked his head in a comme ci, comme ca manner. "Randy was at work when Stark was killed, and that nickname you gave the PI."
"Maggot," Lacey said.
"Yes. Seems it's fitting. Clients hired him and if he sensed they were keeping something from him, he'd go to work digging up dirt on the client. A lot of people probably wanted him dead. But that missing file, the case your father hired him for. I'd really like to read that."
Lacey leaned toward him. "It's key, isn't it?"
"Oh, yeah." The detective nodded.
Lacey looked at Randy again. "The blond woman my sister saw in the library. Our mother . . ."
Randy's face took on a look of surprised condescension. "Oh, you've changed your tune. You believe your sister now."
Lacey turned back to Uncle D. "Are you working that angle at all?"
He looked at her intently. "We're working all angles."
"But you found blond hairs in the library, didn't you?"
He didn't answer.
"Come on. I was having a costume party. My friends talk to me. The ones with blond hair or who wore blond wigs, you took samples of the hair. You interviewed them."
"I can't divulge certain aspects of the investigation."
"Ethics. Like nephew, like uncle." Lacey leaned back and put her hands behind her head. "They could all be accounted for though, huh?"
"Your friends?" Randy interjected. "But you couldn't know everyone who was there."
Lacey sighed and her hands fell to her lap. Was this a good time to tell Uncle D about Tiffany? No. She still wanted to talk to the woman first. And she certainly wasn't going to mention her in front of Randy.
"What is it, Miss Bouquet?"
She looked up. Uncle D was scrutinizing her. She eyed Randy. "He was the last person to see my father alive and the first one to get to Darla."
"What's your point?" Randy asked.
"You didn't see a blonde?"
"Nope. And the rest of your thoughts are transparent. I had no reason to kill Harper. He liked me. I liked him. I was about to get a big promotion. With him dead, the promotion's off."
"Maybe you didn't want it," Lacey said.
Randy laughed. "Who doesn't want to get ahead? Besides." He grabbed a bit of his hair. "I'm not blond." He glanced at his watch. "I'm late." He tapped the door jamb with the file and took off.
Uncle D scooted forward, laced his fingers together, and put his hands on the desk. "Miss Bouquet. Tell me about your sister and your mother."
"You questioned Darla, didn't you?"
"She was a bit defensive when it came to the subject. Bordering on hysterical."
"I think you'll find she's better now."
"Because of Mr. Barber?"
"I hate to say it, but maybe. And because I told her I believed her."
"Did you? Do you?"
"I'm sure she saw someone."
"Okay."
They sat for a moment in silence. It was getting harder not to mention Tiffany and she just didn't want to get into it. "What do you want to know?"
"Your sister thinks your mother has come back and is capable of murder. I'd like to know how you feel about it."
"Sad. Angry. Confused. You name it."
"Your mother. Capable of murder."
"Mother's dead."
"You said you believed your sister."
"I said it to her."
"I understand."
"No, you don't. My sister is full of guilt because she blames herself for our mother's death. For years she's either been seeing her or looking for her while everyone called her nuts. She even made a pretty decent attempt to kill herself because of it once. I guess we told you that."
"Go on."
Lacey shook her head. "What can I say? I don't know what the truth is. What am I supposed to tell you?"
Her eyes hurt. Her nose smarted. Uncle D was pushing her b.u.t.tons.
He sat silently in the chair, his eyes on her like he was deciding something. He started to nod. "Okay. Okay. I'm going to tell you this because it's something you deserve to know. And I don't think you do know."
Lacey frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"That night, when we learned what your sister believed, we wanted a copy of your mother's death certificate. Edward was most obliging. He went into your father's office and got us one." The detective paused and scratched his head. "Naturally, we checked it out."
"And?"
"It's a fake. There's nothing on file."
Another piece of the puzzle, Lacey thought. Now should she tell him about Tiffany? No, not yet.
"You don't seem surprised."
"I am."
"Did you know your sister kept a journal?"
"Yeah, I guess. It's therapeutic."
"We took a peek."
"Without a warrant."
"She didn't seem to mind. Said go ahead."
"Fine."
"She has a lot of resentment."
"So do I."
"Toward your father."
"That doesn't sound right."
"Toward you, too."
"That's something new. It came on all of a sudden. She never used to."
"Interesting."
"It is? I think it's a pain in the b.u.t.t. What's so interesting about it?"
"Any changes from the norm are interesting when a murder has taken place."
"I guess that makes sense."
"There's usually a reason for it."
"I think the reason is Randy. He's the possessive type. He may be trying to keep her all to himself."
The detective nodded. "It's certainly food for thought."
Twenty.
"COOKIES AND MILK?" Lacey looked at the plate of raisin-oatmeals Henry had just placed before her and Jake. She felt like she was five again.
"I've never seen such mopey faces. Eat." Henry closed the oven door and took off the oven mitt. Then he sat down at the table with Lacey and his son. "What's going on?"
Lacey grabbed a cookie. "Jake's in love with Darla and she's going to marry another man." She took a bite.
Jake opened his mouth in protest and quickly shut it.
"Tell me something I don't know." Henry patted Jake's shoulder. "Well, I didn't know about the other man, but I knew how he felt about Darla." Jake looked as glum as a kid who'd slept through Christmas. "You wear your heart on your sleeve, son."
There was something comforting about Henry's accepting the situation as it was. Like it wasn't such a big deal because if it needed to change, it would.
"I've always been in love with Darla," Jake admitted and he bit into a cookie.
Henry turned his attention to Lacey. "And what about your sorry mug?"
"I think my mother isn't dead."
"Her mug's not sorry, it's confused," Jake mumbled through the cookie.
"How come your mug doesn't look surprised?" Lacey said, wondering how Henry could not tell her all these years if he knew.
Henry pointed at his face. "Years of practice. My surprise muscles are slow on the uptake. I had no idea. I was hired long after she-well, evidently didn't die. I'm bowled over." He shook his head and looked thoughtful. Lacey wondered what he was thinking about.
"You know things, don't you? Secret things. About the family." Her eyes followed him as he stood up and put the cookie sheet in the sink.
"Part of my job description is to keep my mouth shut."
"But Harper's dead now, and I guess that makes me your boss. Unless you find it too weird to work for me and plan on leaving. Please don't."
He smiled. "Well, Edward's still around. But my loyalty's not to him. And with Harper gone and Edward still here, you should know."
"Yes, I should. I definitely should. Know what?"
Henry sat down. "This happened a long time ago . . ." He stalled. The normally ice-calm Henry appeared nervous. He rubbed his face. "I probably should have gone to child protective services, but I would have just been fired and who'd have kept an eye out then? And if Darla had been taken away, foster care is a mixed bag. Who knows where she'd have ended up?"
Lacey sat frozen. He was being ominous and had her full attention.
"You know, some people get away with murder all their lives and Edward's a case in point."
"Murder?" Lacey swallowed.
Henry held up a hand. "It's an expression. Anyone could see he resented both of you girls. But he hated Darla, that little wisp of a thing. He had a special pocket of hatred in his heart for her. And after that incident in the house." He looked at Jake. "You told me about it, remember? The game of Hide and Seek where Darla came up missing?"