Page 27 of June's First Murder
June nodded as she continued to stroke Mister Smee. His purr rumbled against her lap, grounding her. "Sometimes honesty and truth aren't the same thing. We're looking for the truth about what happened to Raymond. And sometimes that requires a little strategic dishonesty along the way," June said gently.
"I know." Sara Lee nodded with a sigh.
"Remember that letting people talk through their feelings isn’t dishonest. And the alternative? Letting someone get away with murder or the innocent being caught up in this web is worse." June set Mister Smee on the floor and stood. "Come on. Let's have lunch and update our notes. We have a lot of information to add to our suspect list."
After they’d eaten, Sara Lee stood and linked her arm through her grandmother's. “Shall I fix a pot? It seems like we need a tea-time clue review.”
“An excellent idea!”
They spent the rest of the afternoon in the study, adding to their growing collection of information. June wrote down everything Ted had told her about the Meltons. Sara Lee added what she'd learned about the Cordells’ money troubles, the mysterious resolution, and the way Bob and Bill kept Barb excluded from business matters.
By the time they finished, their suspect list had grown more detailed with specific names and motivations.
"It's a lot of possibilities," Sara Lee observed, lookingat the list. She chewed on her bottom lip, then added, “You know… we’ve listed Horace, but what about Petunia?”
June lifted a brow, then nodded. "You’re right. Maybe this is still about the Melton money, but her fear and not Horace’s.” She added Petunia’s name, then tapped the notebook. "I’m convinced that somewhere in here is the answer. We just have to find it."
Mister Smee chose that moment to jump onto June's desk, walking delicately across their papers to sit directly on the notebook. His huge eyes blinked at them solemnly.
"What is it, boy?" June asked, smiling. "Do you have an opinion?"
The cat stood, stretched, then padded over to the bookshelf. Leaping with grace, he walked along the narrow edge of the bookshelf that was visible in front of the many books. His tail swished in the air before he stopped at another sunspot and rubbed his face against a particular volume.
Sara Lee chuckled. “He just likes to find the sun,” but she walked over and plucked up the cat and set him on the floor. Tilting her head, she read the title aloud. "The Merchant of Venice. Shakespeare.” She looked over her shoulder. “Not sure that the Bard has anything to add to our investigation.”
"The money play," June murmured. "Debts and pound of flesh and consequences of borrowing." She looked at the cat with something like wonder. "Good boy, Mister Smee. Very good boy."
Sara Lee stared at her grandmother, wide-eyed. "Youdon't actually think he understands what he's doing, do you? And we have no idea what he means, even if he has feline intuition!"
June shrugged, her hands fluttering to the side. "I think Mister Smee has very good instincts. And right now, his instincts might indicate we need to follow the money."
"That could still just be the people we have on the list."
"Yes, Bob and his mysterious business resurrection. The inheritance the Meltons were expecting. Even Petunia’s sister Ivy was upset. Perhaps, they stood to get something as well." June stood, energy returning to her movements. "Tomorrow, I think we need to eat out, enjoy delicious food, and keep our ears open. People talk freely around someone they don't suspect is listening."
“Eat out?”
“I’m in the mood for Celini’s Italian Cafe.”
“Oh… yes,” Sara Lee said with a nod, now smiling.
They went about the rest of their evening routines of dinner, dishes, and reading on the porch as the sun set. But underneath the familiar comfort, June felt the weight of what they were doing. They were investigating a murder. Looking for a killer who possibly lived among them, who walked the same streets, who might be someone she'd known and trusted for years.
That night, lying in bed with Pippi curled on her dog bed next to June’s bed, she thought about all she'd learned. Ted's voice echoed in her mind:Horace isn't a murderer. I've known that man for his whole life.
But knowing someone didn't mean you knew what they were capable of in their darkest moment. June had lived long enough to understand that desperation could turn even good people into strangers to themselves. And she felt sure that Ted knew that as well.
Somewhere in all of this was the answer. Somewhere was the person who'd decided Raymond needed to die.
The little dog snored beside her bed, and June closed her eyes, her mind already planning tomorrow. People talk when they are comfortable.
And June intended to listen to every word.
12
SARA LEE
Sara Lee had eaten at Celini’s Italian Cafe countless times, and now, walking through the door with Nana June on a Tuesday afternoon, the nostalgia washed over her. The familiar red vinyl booths, the black-and-white tiles creating a checkered floor, the tantalizing smell of onions, tomatoes, and garlic that had soaked into the walls over decades. She'd eaten here with her parents, celebrating good report cards with tiramisu, or drowning sorrows after bad breakups with homemade pizza.
