~ Murder Most Foul ~
by Lois Cloarec Hart and C. Paradee

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Disclaimer: We originally wrote a shorter version, then decided to revisit the story because we wanted to know what had gone before for our older pair of lovers. We hope that readers were curious too, and will enjoy the completely revised, rewritten and expanded version. If you find women in love disturbing, this isn't the story for you. Off you go. Move along. Bye-bye.

Acknowledgements: As always our deepest thanks to our fabulous beta reader, Day, aka Goddess of Punctuation, Grammar and Style. Additionally, we were lucky enough to have Betty join us for this endeavour, and lend her keen eyes to the story. Thanks for the feedback, Betty! And what would a story be without Lois' mother's eagle eyes checking it twice. (Lois' note: Nothing slips by that woman...but then speaking from forty plus years of experience, nothing ever did. <g>)

If you'd like to comment, we can be reached at:
Lois eljae1@shaw.ca
Carol cparadee@cox.net

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Part Two

Chapter Ten

September, 2002

Jaye MacLaren barely noticed the light rain dripping down the neck of her dark trench coat, as she stood motionless, staring at the gleaming mahogany of her aunt's coffin. All the other mourners had long since departed the gravesite, but the short, chestnut-haired woman had no desire to join her aunt's numerous friends at the post-funeral reception. A husky cough disturbed her deep reverie, and she blinked her blue eyes at the man who gazed apologetically at her from across the open grave, a thick-handled spade in his hand.

"Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am..."

He trailed off, as if unable to give voice to his purpose, but Jaye understood and nodded stiffly. Unable to watch as the mounded earth was shoveled over her beloved aunt's earthly remains, the woman turned away, her normally brisk gait absent as she plodded back to her vehicle.

Sliding behind the wheel, she closed her eyes in exhaustion. After making all the funeral arrangements by phone, Jaye had driven straight through from Toronto to Tucker's Way, the small Maine coastal town that had been her aunt's home for the past forty years. Arriving mere hours before the service, she hadn't even dropped her luggage at her aunt's cottage...her place now, she guessed, in the absence of any other living relatives except her own father. Given the cool state of affairs between her American aunt and Canadian father, she doubted that Delia Barrington had left Thom MacLaren anything in her will.

Fumbling with her keys, she turned the ignition, cursing under her breath as the old Jeep's engine failed to catch until the third try.

"I oughta sell you for scrap, Henri."

The threat was meaningless, but it was second nature to Jaye now. She had a longstanding love-hate relationship with the vehicle that she'd named after an ex-boyfriend who'd been all looks and no substance. More forgiving now that Henri idled steadily, she patted the dash.

"Got me here in one piece, though, didn't you? Auntie Dee always says..."

A lump rose in her throat and her eyes filled with the tears that were rarely far from surfacing since she had received the news that her aunt had been murdered three days previously. After spending every summer of her childhood under her aunt's firm but loving care, Jaye couldn't believe she'd never again wrap her arms around the softly rounded, diminutive frame; never see her own shade of blue eyes sparkling merrily back at her from under a messy halo of white hair; and never tease her Auntie Dee about the older woman's nightly tot of black rum. That brought a smile, even as the tears rolled down her face. Delia swore that rum, always taken neat, kept the chilblains away.

"Didn't keep the arthritis away, though, did it, Auntie Dee?"

The anger, held at bay until now, swept through her. If not for her aunt's worsening arthritis, the viper that had been hired to help Delia would never have been allowed into her home. Jaye quivered with fury at the thought of the woman who had murdered Auntie Dee.

"Lindsay fucking Daniels...may you rot in hell for all eternity!"

Jaye slammed her hand against the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare and momentarily venting her rage. Taking a deep breath, she put the Jeep in reverse, eased out of the parking lot, and began the trip to her aunt's cottage.

Delia's cottage was, in fact, a sprawling single story house, with grey siding and white trim, set on the edge of a bluff with a magnificent view of the turbulent Atlantic. Fifteen minutes outside of Tucker's Way, Jaye's aunt had owned twenty acres of prime shorefront, an object of lust for more than one developer.

As Jaye turned off the highway and drove slowly up the long, winding, gravel entrance road, overhung with thick dripping foliage turning fall shades, she allowed herself to imagine for a moment that this was just one more of a thousand times she had come home to Auntie Dee's. For a moment she let herself believe that when she rounded the last corner, she'd see her aunt's small form standing in the doorway, waving an enthusiastic hand and welcoming her back again. Her imagination furnished the enticing scent of Auntie Dee's famous homemade peanut butter cookies; and the ache of knowing that she'd never again be welcomed in her aunt's traditional way threatened to overwhelm her.

Savagely wrenching the gears into neutral, she let the Jeep coast to a stop as her head dropped forward against the steering wheel. Long moments went by as the tears fell to her lap in concert with the rain beating on the canvas roof.

Finally the distraught woman sat up, dashing away the tears. "Enough! You've cried enough. Now get on with it."

Even as Jaye instructed herself firmly, she knew she was a long way from the end of her tears. Resolutely, she shifted into first gear and resumed the trip up the driveway. When her aunt's home came into view around the last bend, she simply bit her lip and tightened her hands around the wheel. She tried not to notice the absence of smoke from the chimney and the forlorn air to the deserted house.

Parking in front, the grieving woman wondered absently where her aunt's elderly Buick was, but put it out of her mind as she unlocked the front door and pushed it open. On automatic pilot, Jaye hung her trench coat in the hall closet then carried her duffel bag to the room that had always been hers. She tossed the duffel at the chair that had traditionally stood beside the door, only to stare dumbfounded as the bag hit the floor. Blinking, she gazed around the room, noting the pretty green and white bedspread with matching curtains, the new bureau, and the stuffed animals littering the bed--which most certainly weren't hers.

A brief hurt swept through Jaye as she realized that her aunt had given her old room to the serpent, but then a morbid curiosity about the murderer rose to the fore and she began wandering about the large room, examining Lindsay Daniels' possessions. There was no chance of being interrupted or rebuked since the woman was safely incarcerated in the Tucker's Way jail, having been charged with the murder scant hours after Delia's death.

The Canadian ran her hand lightly over the clothes in the closet, noting absently that the caregiver favored softly tailored clothes in autumn hues. She kicked at an errant hiking boot, whose mate was half under the bed, and made her way to the light oaken bureau. A pretty blue music box sat in the center of the polished top, with delicate crystal knickknacks to the right side. A silver-framed picture sat prominently to the left side, and Jaye picked it up curiously.

Her aunt stood with an attractive, slim, red haired woman on the beach, the green and grey ocean a perfect backdrop for the two. Wind had whipped the younger woman's abundant, curly red ringlets into a riotous mass about her fine features, and both women were laughing at the photographer. Jaye stared at the photo, entranced by the sight of her aunt's arm snugly around the taller redhead. The younger woman had her arm resting casually about Delia's shoulders, and Jaye suddenly slammed the picture against the bureau, infuriated that the evil bitch had taken such liberties...had taken her place in her aunt's life.

The glass had barely finished shattering and falling when Jaye heard an unmistakable clucking from behind her. Whirling, the broken frame still in hand, she stared in disbelief. Her aunt's form stood behind her, hands planted firmly on solid hips as she shook her head disapprovingly at her niece.

"Is that any way to behave, Eeyore?"

Jaye gaped at the apparition, part of her numb brain registering the old nickname that had always signaled her aunt's displeasure before her knees gave out and she sat down hard on the floor.

"Oh for heaven's sake, girl, you're going to cut yourself if you're not careful!"

Auntie Dee's gently chiding tone sounded vaguely like she was talking from the bottom of a barrel, but the voice was unmistakably the same one she'd heard on countless summer days, waking her up in the mornings and calling her in from the forest or beach in the evenings. Jaye blinked her eyes rapidly, but the preternaturally insubstantial form didn't disappear. She surreptitiously pinched herself, wondering hazily if grief, exhaustion, and lack of food had conspired to make her hallucinate. When Delia's thick, white eyebrows lifted in amusement over the same wire-rimmed glasses her aunt had worn for decades, she knew she wasn't imagining it.

Jaye cleared her throat, trying to erase the embarrassing squeak that had come out on the first try. "Auntie Dee?"

"You were expecting maybe the Pope?" The apparition cocked her head and smiled affectionately at her niece.

"Well, I sure as hell wasn't expecting you, either!" Jaye protested as she struggled to get up.

Delia pursed her lips. "No, I don't guess you were. Didn't suspect I'd be haunting you, either, if you want the truth of it."

Jaye managed to sit heavily on the edge of the bed, still clutching the picture.

"Um, why are you haunting me, Auntie Dee?" She hastened to add, "Not that I'm not glad to see you." Unbidden tears filled her eyes again, and she ducked her head. "I miss you so."

The ghost obviously heard the mumbled sentiment, as her next words were soft and loving. "I miss you too, J-mac. Didn't expect to be leaving this soon or I'd have insisted you drag your butt home sooner."

"I'm sorry." Jaye raised her head and stared at her aunt remorsefully. "I was planning to come home next month, but I shouldn't have left it so long." The soft rounded features that were a younger version of her aunt's own, darkened. "Maybe if I'd come sooner, I could've stopped her from hurting you."

"Oh pish!" Her aunt's tone was indignant now. "Surely you don't believe that nonsense about Lindsay murdering me. Thought you had better sense than that!"

"But...but they have her in jail for your murder. Her fingerprints were on the murder weapon and you wrote her into your will..." Jaye stopped, unable to deal with further evidence that an outsider had usurped her place in her aunt's life.

The ghost uttered a most unladylike snort. "Oh, for heaven's sake! Like there's never been a false arrest in the history of mankind. Lindsay didn't even know I'd changed my will to include her. Bill Webster just jumped to the handiest conclusion. He never was the sharpest tack in the box. His daddy was the dumbest thing in a sou'wester, and young Billy didn't fall far from the tree. I'm telling you that girl never raised a finger to me, except to help. She's no more capable of murder than that stuffed lion you're sitting on!"

Jaye jumped and dug the toy out from underneath her. Tossing it aside, she studied the photo in confusion. Troubled, she looked up at her aunt.

"Are you sure, Auntie Dee? Did you see who did do it?"

The ghost glared, but Jaye knew it wasn't directed at her.

"Some slimy, lily-livered, scum-sucking coward, I can tell you that much! Snuck up behind me after I sent Lindsay back to the house to get the goat puppet, and hit me over the head with my own hatchet. My own hatchet, for crying out loud!"

The shaken woman couldn't help a tiny grin at her aunt's indignation. She wasn't sure if Delia was angrier at the murder or at the insult of being killed with her own implement.

Not quite sure how to broach the subject, Jaye glanced around the room, uneasily aware that her aunt's shade wasn't reflected in the mirror, before asking tentatively, "So you still don't know who... I mean, being where you are and all?"

"Wouldn't be hanging around if I did, J-mac. Trouble was, I didn't die right away, so by the time my spirit was released, the culprit was long gone. Saw Lindsay come in and find me, though." The ghost shook her head sadly. "Lordy, I wish she hadn't had to go through that. Damn near shattered her; and then to have that pinhead sheriff accuse her of the crime...more than the dear woman could handle all at once." Translucent blue eyes focused on Jaye's with vivid clarity. "I tried to reach her, but I couldn't get through, so I need you to go to her for me."

"Me?" Once again, as she struggled to deal with the abrupt switch from viewing Lindsay Daniels as her aunt's rightly incarcerated murderer to accepting her as an innocent victim, Jaye was reminded of her aunt's inimical ability to reduce her to the level of a recalcitrant teenager.

"Yes, you. You know I'd do this myself if I could, but you're going to have to be my agent until we solve this murder. Lord knows you've seen enough crime scenes in your occupation."

"But I only photograph them!" Jaye protested. The dark-haired woman exhaled explosively and grimaced as she rapidly considered potential courses of action. Finally, shaking her head in exasperation, she looked up and regarded the ghost intently. "You know I'd do anything to help you."

"I know," Delia acknowledged affectionately. "And if anyone can do it, you can. You've got a terrific head on your shoulders, even if your taste in men is abysmal." She smiled widely. "Besides, you have me on your side, so you'll have the edge on the low-life, snake-bellied weasel who did this."

A reluctant grin stole over Jaye's features. "He really pissed you off, eh?"

"Damn right! I had plans, J-mac, and they sure didn't include departing to the great beyond for another couple of decades, I can tell you that!"

"Okay, I'm in." Jaye nodded decisively at her aunt, who smiled triumphantly in return. "I'll just extend my leave of absence from the department and let Ronald know I'll be delayed getting back."

Delia rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you're still dating that imbecile."

Jaye frowned, part of her well aware that, as usual, her aunt's perception was dead-on. Ronald was a...convenience at best, but he'd lasted longer than most of the men in her life. Lamely, she argued, "He's not that bad, Auntie. You just never gave him a chance."

"He's handsome all right, but he has shifty eyes. Never trust a man who won't look you squarely in the eye when he shakes your hand," Delia instructed firmly. "You can do way better than that, girl."

Eager to turn the conversation away from her lacklustre love life, Jaye said, "Right, then I guess the first step is to get Daniels released." She could tell by the skeptical look that she hadn't fooled her aunt for a moment, but Delia allowed her to get away with the switch in topics.

"Yeah. Poor girl's in such a funk that she isn't eating or sleeping. I'm downright worried about her!"

"Any suggestions for a good lawyer?"

"Go talk to her first and then ask Ed. He should be able to recommend someone."

Jaye nodded. Ed Romero had been her aunt's attorney for decades, but only dealt with civil matters.

"Gotta be a pretty flimsy case since I know that she didn't do it, so it's just a matter of picking it apart and getting her out on bail until we can track down the real murderer...the yellow swine!"

The younger woman stood, gingerly picking her way through the shards of glass from the broken frame. Catching her aunt's disapproving eye, she promised, "I'll clean it up when I get home, honest, Auntie."

She exited to the sound of her aunt's muttered, "You'd better. You're not too old to have your backside tanned, you know."

Rolling her eyes in amusement even as she decided it was more prudent not to ask how her aunt's ghost would accomplish that, Jaye returned to her Jeep in a much better frame of mind than she'd left it. She had a goal, and she had her aunt on her side. Beginning the search for justice was enough to return the spring to her step and the determination to her eyes.

When Henri started on the first try, Jaye chuckled. "Well, that's gotta be a good omen." Shifting into first, she muttered threateningly, "I'm coming, ya bastard...wherever you are."

Accelerating away from the house, the newly inducted detective didn't notice the ghostly form perched comfortably on the roof of the Jeep, tipping her white head back and opening her mouth gleefully, as if catching raindrops. The apparition never even wavered as the vehicle side-slipped in the mud then regained its traction with a roar of the engine. As the Jeep disappeared into the thick woods, the shade reached playfully for passing branches, but the foliage moved only under the impact of the falling rain.


Chapter Eleven

Lindsay Daniels sat on the cot in the small cell, staring unseeing at the opposite wall. Her normally bright, sparkling green eyes were dull and red rimmed, her shoulders slumped as the dejected woman grieved deeply for her best friend. Finger-combed only, her long mane of red-gold ringlets was disheveled, limp, and unkempt.

The wan redhead ignored the tray of food that had been shoved inside the door, knowing the deputy would return for it soon. Over and over again, she'd proclaimed her innocence at the time of her arrest, but her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. A tear tracked down her face, surprising Lindsay--she hadn't thought there were any left.

She had begged the sheriff to attend Delia's funeral that morning. More tears welled from overflowing eyes as she shuddered at the memory of a baneful face and an incredulous voice snarling, "You've got to be kidding! You kill her, and now you want to attend her funeral?"

The prisoner heard the sound of the door opening and the tray being removed, but didn't bother looking up when the deputy spoke.

"You're gonna starve if you don't start eating, Lindsay. You know Auntie Dee would chew you out for that." The heavily freckled man with the carrot-colored brush cut sighed audibly and removed the tray.

Moments later, Lindsay jumped as the cell bars echoed from a hard blow. Familiar by now with the sheriff's habit of announcing his presence with his night stick, she slowly turned her head to hear what venom was going to be directed against her this time.

Sheriff Webster laughed humorlessly. "You've got a visitor." Inclining his head toward the short, broad-shouldered woman with close-cut dark hair and Delia's bright, blue eyes who was standing next to him, he added mockingly, "Gonna try telling Jaye here you didn't kill her aunt?" He crossed his arms, obviously eager to witness a confrontation between the murderer and Delia's blood kin.

Briefly glancing at the impassive woman standing expressionlessly next to the thick-bellied sheriff, Lindsay returned her gaze to the wall. She couldn't even summon any interest at the appearance of the woman she'd secretly been fascinated with. There had been a time she had pumped her best friend incessantly for details about her niece, drawn to photos and stories of Delia's twin sister's daughter, but that seemed a distant memory now. It was another life. One of innocence, joy, and simplicity. Now Delia was dead and buried, and the town had convicted her without a trial.

Lindsay instinctively tightened her shoulders against the onslaught she was sure would come.

"Would you mind leaving us alone?"

The words were spoken quietly, but that didn't diminish the request's underlying authority. Lindsay directed her gaze toward her visitor only to find the sheriff glaring at her. She closed her eyes against the malevolent stare and when she opened them again, he was slowly traipsing down the short hall to the outer door separating the two cells from his office.

The prisoner looked up again, searching for condemnation in the intense eyes regarding her solemnly, but finding none. The gaze was troubled and sad, but bereft of anger or hate. She waited for Delia's niece to speak.

"Did you kill my aunt?"

Lindsay met the gaze pointedly, anguished eyes bespeaking her innocence. "I loved Dee. I could never kill her."

Her interrogator nodded slowly. "What happened that day?"

Taking a deep breath, Lindsay recited her account of that awful day. "Every day your aunt read stories to the children at the library after they got out of school. It was part of the literacy project she started years ago. That day we went in early because we were going to set up, then go check out a new novelty shop that had just opened. We unpacked everything, but couldn't find the goat puppet."

Lindsay smiled wanly at Jaye's raised eyebrow and explained. "She used puppets to act out parts in the story. She was going to read Billy Goat's Gruff. I told her it would only take me a few minutes to go home and get it."

The redhead noticed Jaye's shoulder's tighten and suddenly realized why. "It was my home, too. She insisted on that. I wasn't just your aunt's caregiver; she was my best friend. I loved her and if you can understand that, you'll know that I'm innocent."

"History is rife with murder committed in the name of love."

Gazing sadly at Delia's niece, Lindsay was unable to dispute the observation.

The dark haired woman shifted uncomfortably and looked away from the prisoner's gentle scrutiny. Clearing her throat, she continued. "Then what happened?"

Haunted eyes stared off into the distance as Lindsay related the scene imprinted indelibly in her mind.

"I walked into the reading room. I remember a very strong feeling that something was wrong; and when I didn't see Delia, I became alarmed and called out her name."

"I remember wondering where she could've gone. I hadn't been away more than a half hour, if that. I walked over to the table her props were on, and glanced behind it. I saw Delia laying face down on the floor…"

Lindsay took a deep breath, desperately trying to maintain her composure. Her hands had knotted into fists, knuckles white with the effort of trying to control her emotions.

"There was a big pool of blood beneath her. I ran around the table and knelt beside her, screaming for help. I carefully turned her over, trying to find a pulse, but she was cool…too cool. Then I looked into her eyes…" Lindsay choked back a sob, and buried her face in her hands.

"Oh, God! It was horrible. I was too late… I shouldn't have left her…" Her body was wracked with the pain of remembering and the loss of her friend. Of how she'd cradled Delia's broken head in her lap, knowing it was too late and murmuring over and over again. "Please, no."

Distressed eyes glistening, Jaye nodded abruptly. "All right. If you didn't do it, then I've got to figure out who did."

Forcing herself to regain control, Lindsay clutched the edge of her cot, staring at Jaye, not sure she'd heard correctly. "You don't think I did it?"

Delia's niece shook her head deliberately, almost as if reluctant to give up her own preconceived ideas. "The sheriff said no one saw you leave the library or come back. Why?"

"There were a bunch of teenagers at the checkout desk when I left, so Sam didn't see me walk out. When I got back, he was in a heated discussion with Adam Norton, who's always a pain in the ass, and he never saw me."

Feeling the first tiny glimmer of hope, Lindsay stood up and walked over to the bars. Her deeply shadowed eyes stood out starkly against her pale face. "Do you believe me?" She held her breath, as she waited for the answer, aware that not being seen leaving or returning to the library had convicted her in many of the town's people's eyes.

Pursing her lips, Jaye nodded slowly. "The hatchet…? Supposedly you smuggled it into the back in the book bag, and your prints were definitely all over it."

Lindsay snorted in disgust and replied sharply. "Of course my fingerprints were on it! Who do you think chopped the wood? We were going to drop it off to be sharpened at the hardware store on the way home. It was just laying in plain sight in the backseat, and the murderer must've taken it right after we'd gone into the library. I never even noticed that it was gone when I drove back home, but there's no reason I would've. Delia rarely bothered to lock the car, or even the house half the time for that matter. Hardly anyone around here does."

Musing aloud, the other woman commented, "So, whoever murdered my aunt had to know she was alone."

Lindsay nodded in emphatic agreement. "That's right. Unless it was someone who didn't know about me. But if that's the case, it can't be a local. Dee and I went everywhere together, and everyone knew it. We were either being stalked, or it was just incredibly bad luck that he caught her alone."

The prisoner's voice broke slightly, and her interviewer sighed heavily as her gaze dropped and she absently toed the hallway floor while pondering the information. Watching her, Lindsay was sharply reminded that the other woman too had lost someone she loved. She found herself able for the first time to look beyond her own grief, and past the unbelievably horrible circumstances in which she'd been trapped. The redhead regarded Jaye intently, wondering if the image she had built up in her mind of Delia's niece would hold true under the harsh light of reality. Would this woman be as sharp, intuitive, and insightful as the aunt she so closely resembled? Losing herself in her musings for a moment, she almost missed her new ally's words.

"Well, it can't have been robbery because Auntie Dee's purse wasn't even touched, so there's got to be some kind of personal motive. Given that my aunt rarely left this place, it shouldn't be too hard to figure out who had it in for her, but the first thing we're going to have to do is get you out of here."

Lindsay snorted mirthlessly, unable to stop a roll of bitter eyes. "Fat chance of that. I'm sure everyone in town thinks I did it. There's no way I'm going to get bail in a million years."

One dark brow shot skyward, and Lindsay almost chuckled at the characteristic gesture. How often had Delia leveled exactly that same look at her when she had expressed skepticism at one of her benefactor's more dubious plans?

"Leave that up to me. It might take a little while, but I'll be back. I'm going to have a lot more questions for you before I can figure out who really killed my aunt."

Reaching through the bars, Lindsay extended her hand to Jaye's arm, briefly touching her. "Thank you. I can't tell you how much it means to me to have someone believe me." She was pleased to see that her heartfelt words were apparently accepted at face value. She was relieved that Dee's beloved niece had given her the benefit of the doubt, despite the fact their first meeting had taken place under such adverse conditions.

Jaye gave her a rueful half smile and shrugged. "Let's just say Aunt Delia would expect no less."

Lindsay furrowed her brow as she watched Delia's niece turn away without another word. That last comment seemed fraught with hidden meaning, but she dismissed it, more intent now on fanning the tiny flame of hope that the other woman had ignited.

She didn't blame Jaye for being guarded, but Lindsay had no intentions of sitting on the sidelines while the tall woman searched for the real killer. Tapping the iron bars that enclosed her, she wryly acknowledged the obstacles. Providing I get out of here, of course.

Returning to the cot, the redhead stretched out, crossing her arms behind her head and staring at the flyspecked ceiling as she considered her unexpected visitor. In the days since her world had imploded, she had almost given up hope. Wracked with grief and absolute disbelief that anyone would actually believe she would harm Delia, she had existed in a nightmarish dimension where even the deputy's rough kindness-the only consideration extended her- couldn't reach her.

She had felt so utterly alone. She had few relatives. Those she did have were in Oregon; and she had little contact with them beyond perfunctory Christmas cards. Aside from being her employer, Delia had also been her best friend, her confidante, and her constant companion. Through Delia she had made many friends in the community, but apparently shocked and confused by the circumstances of Delia's death, none had reached out to her in her cell. She almost choked on the irony. Delia would've marched past Sheriff Webster like he was invisible and taken her right out of this hellhole. If he had dared to challenge her, she would have stared him down with her inimitable and in-born authority. The grande dame of Tucker's Way could not stomach fools, incompetents, or injustice, and she never backed down from confrontation. Everyone in the small, tightly knit community knew better than to cross Delia Barrington. The diminutive woman had an unshakeable, intrinsic moral authority; and when her wrath was incurred, had been a veritable force of nature.

A force that had been ended-brutally and unexpectedly. Lindsay felt the tears begin again. Tired of the unrelenting grief, the prisoner focused instead on her recent visitor. She didn't understand why Jaye had chosen to believe her when no one else seemed to, but she wasn't about to question it.

"Blood will out, right, Dee?" Lindsay smiled as she conjured a fanciful image of her dear friend hovering close by, silver head cocked sympathetically as she listened. "It stands to reason your kin would be the only one with an open mind in this situation."

The redhead was well aware that Delia had loved Jaye as a daughter, particularly after her twin, Andrea, had died far too young from cancer, leaving a six-year-old Jaye alone with her stern, moralistic father. A large part of the fascination she had developed for the Canadian was due to the endless stories Dee told of the girl who had spent every summer of her youth with her. The older woman's obvious love and pride, combined with the hundreds of pictures of an attractive, dark haired, clear-eyed, younger version of her best friend, had sparked and maintained Lindsay's interest over the past year and a half.

"Wonder what you'd say if you knew your aunt loved telling tales out of school on you?" Lindsay mused aloud. She chuckled, remembering one particularly embarrassing anecdote Delia had loved to relate about a seven-year-old Jaye, a cherished Red Sox baseball cap, and Buddy Fischer's ornery old goat. Allowing her soul the balm of that memory, she began to drift, imagining that she could almost hear the ghostly resonance of Delia's hearty laugh echoing about the cell.

*********************************************

"I hope you gave that murdering bitch a piece of your mind. She oughta hang from the nearest tree for killing a saint like your aunt."

Jaye brushed past Bill Webster, shaking her head in disgust at the lawman's lack of objectivity. "She didn't do it."

The sheriff's jaw dropped in amazement and his pale watery eyes bugged in disbelief. "Are you crazy? 'Course she did it. She was the only one back there with Delia, and the hatchet's got her prints all over it, not to mention her motive is plain for all to see. She was after your aunt's money, for Christ's sake! Thought she'd get away with it too, 'cause no one would suspect her of doing the deed in such a public place. I can't believe you're defending her!"

Having no desire to waste time trying to reason with an impregnably closed mind, Jaye ignored the sheriff and walked out the door, narrowing her eyes at the parting words he spat after her.

"'You're a damned disgrace to your aunt's memory, that's what you are!"

********************************************

Jaye analyzed her brief encounter with Lindsay Daniels. It was hard to reconcile the laughing, joyful woman portrayed in the picture she'd broken with the devastated woman she'd witnessed in the jail cell. She knew that Lindsay was actually only a few years older than her own thirty-three years, but grief had painted an extra decade's worth of lines and shadows on the redhead's features.

She smiled wryly, remembering the indignation in Lindsay's voice as she had insisted that Delia's home was her home too. Unable to completely divest herself of the resentment she'd been holding, Jaye still wasn't sure how she felt about that sentiment, but she grudgingly admired the usurper's spunk.

Navigating around a group of locals ambling across the street, the Canadian mused over the prisoner's dramatic change when she realized that Jaye believed her. Lindsay's whole body had been reanimated, and her startling green eyes had regarded her visitor with equal measures of hope and wariness. Jaye was reluctant to accept the responsibility of bearing the other woman's tentative trust, but she knew she couldn't let her down, for her aunt's sake if nothing else.

She parked the Jeep in front of Ed Romero's office a few minutes later and entered the small nondescript building that housed his office. Stopping in front of the secretary's desk, she was mildly surprised not to recognize her. Jaye thought she knew everyone in Tucker's Way after the many summers she had spent here, even though the town had more than tripled in size since her mother first brought her here as an infant. Clearing her throat politely, she made her request.

"I'd like to see Ed Romero, please."

The secretary nodded, and opened the appointment book, looking up when the stranger standing in front of her desk spoke again.

"Excuse me, but I need to see him right away."

The woman smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid you're going to have to book an appointment. He's not in at the moment. It really would be best if you made an appointment and came back later."

Not in the mood to deal with even a minor obstacle, Jaye struggled with her temper for a moment before forcing herself to ask courteously, "When do you expect him back?"

The woman closed the book and shrugged slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm really not sure. He went to a friend's funeral this morning, and I believe he was planning to go to the wake afterwards."

Hearing the door open behind her, Jaye turned and smiled in relieved recognition. "Ed!" She met him midway across the room and returned his warm embrace, marveling as she always did at the man's capacious girth.

The elderly lawyer pulled back a little, giving his old friend's niece a sad smile. "It's good to see you, Jaye. I just wish it were under other circumstances. I didn't see you at Martha's house. People were asking about you."

Jaye shook her head. "I really wasn't up to dealing with all those people right now, Ed. I'll try to get around and see all Delia's closest friends before I head home, though. For now, I have something I need to talk over with you. Do you have a moment?"

Ed nodded, obviously unsurprised. "Always had time for you, Jaye, and I always will. Come on into my office." He ushered her into his inner office and closed the door, then commented, "I didn't expect to see you here quite so soon. Hadn't planned the reading of the will for another couple of days."

Jaye grimaced in rueful amusement as she took the chair in front of his desk. "I didn't come about the will. I actually need a good criminal lawyer. I know you only handle civil matters, but I figured you'd have the inside scoop. Who would you recommend as the best defence attorney around here?"

Ed stared at Jaye in surprise, running one hand through wisps of gray hair. "A defence attorney? Why? You're not in trouble are you?"

"Not for me. I need to get Lindsay Daniels out on bond. She didn't kill my aunt, Ed, and she shouldn't spend one minute longer in that jail."

"I wish you were right." The elderly lawyer leaned back with a sigh, his bulk making the old wooden chair creak ominously. "She always seemed like such a good person, and I know for a fact that Delia loved her like a daughter; but there seems to be a pretty strong case against her from what I've heard. What makes you think she's innocent?"

"Have you met her?"

His head bobbed gravely. "Of course. Anyone who knows Delia has met her, and there isn't a soul in Tucker's Way that didn't know Dee. Those two were downright inseparable. It was quite a shock when she was arrested, but money makes strange bedfellows."

Jaye nodded grimly. "True. But I just met with her, and this whole thing doesn't feel right. She says she didn't do it, and I believe her. She's far too smart not to have figured out a better scheme if she had planned to murder Auntie Dee. How the hell would she ever think she'd get away with it under the circumstances? Nope, this smacks of an impulse killing all the way, though why anyone would want to hurt her is beyond comprehension." Riveting her gaze on her aunt's old friend, she added, "I intend to find out who did do it, but I may need Lindsay's help. So, who do I get?"

Ed had been following her logic closely, eyes narrowed as he considered her reasoning, and he now answered without hesitation. "Frank Collins. He's young and new to the area, but smart as a whip. He'd be your best bet not to leave any stone unturned."

Smiling in gratitude, Jaye stood. "Thanks, Ed. Where can I find him?"

"Over on Main Street, next to the courthouse." Heaving his bulk out of his chair, the lawyer trailed the Canadian to the door. Laying one hand on her shoulder, he said somberly, "I hope you're right, Jaye. It really eats at my craw that someone Delia loved and trusted might've done this to her. If Lindsay ain't the killer, I sure hope you find out who is."

Jaye looked back at him, a determined half-smile on her face. "Count on it."

After a quick stop at the community bank where Delia had established a sizable account for her many years before, Jaye pulled up in front of a small building next to the courthouse. Checking the occupants listed on a placard near the door, she quickly located Frank Collins' name and entered the structure looking for room 107. Pushing open that door, Jaye pulled up short, finding herself facing a young man sporting a thick, black mustache that matched his unruly hair.

Jaye quickly recovered. "I'm looking for Frank Collins?"

The man cleared his voice and smiled boyishly. "That would be me. C'mon on and have a seat. How may I help you?"

Taking the indicated chair and smiling inwardly at his enthusiasm, she hoped Ed knew what he was talking about. The mustache did nothing to age his baby face, but she was encouraged by the warm, intelligent grey eyes gazing at her curiously.

"I need to arrange for bail to be set for Lindsay Daniels."

Frank stared at her in surprise. "Who are you? A relative of hers or something? What you're asking is going to be just about impossible. She's accused of killing the most respected and highly esteemed citizen of this town."

Jaye extended her hand and belatedly introduced herself. "Jaye MacLaren." After releasing Frank's hand, she added, "Delia was my aunt."

Sinking into his chair, the young man gaped at her, finally sputtering, "What in the… For God's sake, she's accused of killing your aunt! Why would you want her out of jail?"

Jaye shrugged. "Simple. She didn't do it."

The young lawyer tapped his fingernails nervously on the polished desktop, obviously thrown by his visitor's identity and odd request. "Do you have any proof of that?"

Jaye leaned across the desk, leveling a stern gaze and speaking emphatically. "Let's just say I have a lot of common sense questions that the sheriff has no answers for. Besides, since when is someone guilty until proven innocent?"

He flushed. "I didn't mean..."

"You could've fooled me." Jaye's tone was clipped. Bone tired, she fervently hoped this bright, young lawyer wouldn't prove to be another closed mind. "Webster found the hatchet with her finger prints on it, and is too lazy to look any further. But since the hatchet belonged to my aunt and Lindsay lived there, it only makes sense that it would have her finger prints on it."

Nodding noncommittally, Frank then raised another objection. "True. But the last time Sam saw her was when she and Delia walked into the reading room together, making Lindsay the last one to see Dee alive. Sam would've seen Lindsay if she left like she claims. As a general rule, he doesn't stray too far from the front desk."

Pinning Frank with an intense gaze, Jaye argued, "Even if he was busy with a noisy, trouble-making teen? From what I hear, a herd of elephants could've slipped by while they were nattering at each other."

The lawyer pursed his lips doubtfully. "Dunno. To tell you the truth, it seemed like a pretty poorly thought out way to kill someone, but given that Sam didn't see her leave or return..." His voice trailed off uncertainly.

"But you'll concede that it is a possibility?" While he remained silent, his gaze turned inward as if he were picturing the proposed scenario, Jaye walked over to the window giving him time to think. She stared out numbly for long moments before finally turning back to the attorney.

"Look, there is nothing I want more than to see my aunt's murderer brought to justice. But I want the real killer convicted, not an innocent. The hatchet proves nothing. Sam missing Lindsay's departure and return proves nothing. Now, are you going to help me get her out of jail or have you already convicted her, too?"

The young lawyer frowned in protest. "Of course not!"

"You going to help me then?" Jaye held her breath waiting for his response.

Frank sighed heavily and nodded his reluctant agreement. "This sure isn't going to make me very popular with the folks around here, but yes, I'll help you. I'll file for a bond hearing and request it be expedited. If I get it-and believe me, that's a damned big 'if' in Tucker's Way, given who the victim was-the bond's probably going to be sky high."

The Canadian exhaled in noisy relief. "You get the bond set, I'll worry about providing the money."

"All right." Frank toyed with a stack of files on his desk, then looked at Jaye expectantly.

With a tight grin of acknowledgement, Jaye pulled out the money she had just withdrawn from the bank. "How much?"

He rattled the figures off quickly. "$250.00 to cover court costs for the bond hearing and my fee. Then it'll be a flat $120 an hour until we go to trial. If we do go to trial, we'll settle my fees beforehand. Deal?"

Nodding, Jaye peeled off the bills, handing Frank the money and waiting while he wrote her a receipt. Once it was handed over, she said, "I'll call you in an hour to find out what time the hearing is."

He held up a cautionary hand. "Wait a moment. Don't get the cart before the horse. I'm not even sure the judge will set an immediate hearing."

Jaye gave him an exhausted, but confident smile. "I'm sure you can convince him how shaky this case is and then insist he expedite the bail hearing."

With a wry grin, the young lawyer stood and proffered his hand. "Well you certainly did inherit your aunt's way with words. Delia could talk a rabbit out of its tail, if she took a mind to. I'm not sure the whole town won't think we're a few bricks short of a load by the time we're done, but I'll do my best."

Taking his hand and giving it a firm shake, Jaye said, "That's all I can ask."

Chapter Twelve

Jaye watched as Frank issued instructions to a dazed looking Lindsay. She felt a touch of sympathy for the young woman. Even she'd been surprised at how quickly events had transpired. She had expected that her aunt's caregiver would have to remain in jail for at least another twenty-four hours, but Frank had succeeded in having her released by the end of the day.

With a little help from Dolan and me. Jaye's smug reflection was interrupted by a distinct chuckle right beside her ear.

"Not bad, J-mac. You're off to a fine start."

The Canadian couldn't help starting as she hissed, "Don't do that!"

Lindsay and Frank turned to her curiously.

"Uh, a fly, yeah...just a pesky, annoying fly," Jaye blurted, brushing furiously at the air beside her head. "Um, I'm going to go bring the Jeep around."

Without waiting for an answer, she strode off, leaving the mildly bewildered pair staring after her.

"Got a bee in your britches?"

Jaye could hear the amusement in her aunt's voice. Ducking into an alley that would provide a shortcut to the library's parking lot, she allowed herself to glance over to where her aunt's ghost floated along beside her.

She gestured at the open air between the ground and her aunt's feet. "Do you have to do that?"

Delia chuckled. "Well, I'm finding it rather refreshing. I haven't been able to keep up with you without double-timing since you were a wee tot with enough energy to fuel a nuclear reactor. Course then you turned twelve and outgrew me-though not by much, I'll just point out! I may be a little on the short side, but you're no Wilt Chamberlain yourself. 'Sides, it's not like anyone else can see me."

Jaye sighed and conceded her aunt the point. Picking up her pace again, she asked, "So you saw what happened today?"

"Yup, every bit of it. I was right proud of you for finding the clues that idiot sheriff overlooked."

"It was hard to go there..." Jaye's voice trailed off and her throat closed as she recalled going from Frank's office to the library reading room earlier that afternoon. A veteran crime scene photographer who had shot some of the worst examples of man's inhumanities, she hadn't expected to be as deeply affected as she was...

Jaye left the lawyer's office and paused on the street to consider her options, barely noticing that the persistent rain had finally let up. Getting Lindsay out of jail was her first objective, but aside from employing Frank to begin that process, she was momentarily stumped as to where to go from there.

Sliding into Henri, Jaye sat quietly considering her next course of action. Deciding she needed to see the crime scene, she drove over to the library on the outskirts of town. Parking in the nearly empty lot, she surveyed the area. Thick hedges lined the parking lot and two picnic tables sat amidst a small copse of young trees to one side. The building, surrounded on three sides by old growth forest, was a substantial size for such a small town, and the photographer knew her aunt had played a big part in the drive to build and maintain the fine library.

Steeling herself, Jaye walked to the double front doors, pausing to read a handwritten sign: "Closed for Delia Barrington's funeral." She frowned but, trying the doors, found the right one open. Entering, she saw a thin young man sitting disconsolately at the checkout desk, idly turning a pen over in his fingers. He didn't even look up as he called out, "We're closed."

"Sam."

The librarian's head jerked up. "Jaye?" He rose and came around the desk, holding out his hand. "I didn't get a chance to talk to you at the funeral, but I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for your loss...hell, for all our loss. She was a fine woman, your aunt was."

Jaye nodded. "Yes, she was. None better." Firmly pushing the resurgent sorrow down, she asked quietly, "Do you mind if I take a look in the back?"

Sam appeared uncertain. "I dunno, Jaye. They still have the police tape up blocking off the room."

"I won't touch anything, I promise. I just need to see where..." Helpless to prevent the tears that filled her eyes, she saw Sam duck his head in sympathy.

"Aw, heck, it can't hurt anything. Go ahead," he said roughly, motioning her on.

Ducking under the yellow crime scene tape that blocked the doorway, Jaye crossed to the table at the front of the room and stopped short at the sight of the large, reddish stain on the tan carpet in front of a magnetic white board, still gaily adorned with blue plastic letters and numbers. She felt a wave of nausea, knowing that stain represented her aunt's waning moments of life.

Sucking in a deep breath, she forced herself to conduct a dispassionate survey of the room. The children's reading room was painted in a bright patchwork of yellow and white, with colorful cartoon characters decorating the walls. Short bookshelves filled with children's stories, games, and puzzles lined the room. Two, large, side windows admitted weak sunlight, filtered through grey clouds that were only now beginning to dissipate.

Thrusting her hands into the pockets of her black, tailored trousers to ensure she didn't touch anything, Jaye made her way to the windows. If she accepted that Lindsay wasn't the murderer, which she did-based on her aunt's words and the young woman's own demeanour, then whoever had killed Delia had to exit either back through the library-unlikely given that he'd probably been stained with blood-or through one of these windows.

Jaye examined the exterior, noting the proximity of the forest. A killer could have easily vanished there without being detected. Dropping to her knees, the determined woman peered under the metal facing used to raise the window. She felt a thrill as she spied a rust-colored smear on the underside. Halting the instinctive movement of her hand towards the evidence, she rose gracefully to her feet.

"See something?"

Jaye jumped, not having heard anyone approach. Turning, she broke into a broad smile. "Dolan!"

The carrot topped deputy sheriff nodded soberly. "Good to see you, Jaye, but you shouldn't be in here, you know."

"I know, but I believe a very big miscarriage of justice has occurred, and I had to see if I could find something to set it right."

The deputy's shrewd brown eyes regarded her intently. "You don't think Lindsay killed her either."

One chestnut eyebrow shot up as Jaye shook her head. Her onetime boyfriend obviously wasn't convinced of his prisoner's guilt.

"No, I don't. I take it you have your doubts, too?"

Dolan sighed heavily. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

Jaye followed the man outside, and squatted beside him as he knelt on the grass beneath the reading room windows. Flowerbeds lined the building, mostly barren at this time of year except for some hardy perennials, and Dolan pointed at the faint impression of a man's shoe in the wet earth under the window.

"Took a cast of this the afternoon of the murder, and pictures of these spots." He indicated another couple of blood smears on the exterior of the windowsill. Sighing, he leaned back on his heels. "I'm guessing DNA would show it was Delia's which won't help nab the killer, and it's too smeared to get a usable print, but I found one other footprint that looks the same at the edge of the trees and took a cast of that, too."

Jaye looked at him incredulously. "You had these and you still arrested her? For God's sake, Dolan, that's reasonable doubt if nothing else!"

The deputy had the grace to look shame-faced. "I told Bill about these things, but he says the footprints could've belonged to one of the workmen who were replacing the gutters last week. Thing is, that's not a workman's boot print. From the look of it, that's a dress shoe."

"And the blood?" Jaye knew her voice had risen in anger, but she was shaken at the realization that Lindsay should never have been subjected to her ordeal in the town jail.

"Aw, shit. Bill claimed that Lindsay panicked and started to escape out the window, then realized she'd be caught, so tried to play it like she found the body."

She stared at him incredulously. "That is the biggest load of-"

Holding up one placating hand, the deputy nodded. "Yeah, and I wasn't going to let it go, Jaye. I just figured that she'd be safer in a cell than out where the real killer could get her, too. See, I don't know why anyone would ever want to kill your aunt, and given that those two were practically joined at the hip, I thought if Auntie Dee was in danger, Lindsay might be too."

Jaye's wrath ebbed as she realized Dolan hadn't gotten stupid or corrupt in the years since they had dated as teenagers during her summer vacations in Tucker's Way.

"Sorry, it's just that it's so wrong." She shook her head in frustration. "Couldn't you have gone over that idiot sheriff's head?"

"Not and kept my job. June and I are expecting our fourth in a couple of months, and I can't afford to be out of work." Dolan shrugged apologetically.
"I figured I'd just compile all the available evidence and then turn it over to Lindsay's lawyer."

Standing, Jaye smiled affectionately at the deputy. She'd always admired his rugged stoicism and strong personal code of ethics. Even as a teenager, he'd exhibited a definite sense of what lines they couldn't cross as they prowled the town after dark looking for excitement.

"She has a lawyer now. Frank Collins. He's making a bail application this afternoon, and he could sure use what you have to buttress his arguments."

Dolan nodded. "I'll go see him." He started to walk away, then turned back with a grin. "I think Uncle Jack has the bench this afternoon. Maybe I'll keep Frank company when he goes to court."

Jaye laughed as she watched the husky man amble away. She'd been away from Tucker's Way so long that she'd almost forgotten how incestuous small towns could be.

Clearing her throat, Jaye murmured to her aunt, "At least it didn't take long to get her out once we presented the evidence.

Delia snorted. "And didn't you just love the look on the sheriff's face when Jack chewed him out for 'laying charges precipitously'?"

Jaye laughed. "Yeah, I thought he was gonna have a coronary when the judge ordered him to set Lindsay free on bail." She turned the corner, spotting the library half a block down. "He certainly was nasty about not releasing your car, though."

"That's okay. It'll give Dolan more time to check it for fingerprints other than Lindsay's or mine. Besides, Lindsay will be sticking with you until we solve this, so she can ride along in that junk heap you call a vehicle."

"Hey!" Jaye's protests over the insult to Henri's dignity were offset by her aunt's implications. "Wait a minute...I'm not babysitting her while I try to solve this, Auntie Dee."

"Don't be foolish, Eeyore," Delia said firmly. "That girl's mind is just as quick as yours; she'll be invaluable. She knows what's been going on around here the last year. You don't."

That stung, and Jaye maintained a sullen silence until she was seated in her Jeep. She refused to look at the ghost now comfortably ensconced in the rear seat and mumbled, "We'll talk."

"That we will."

The cheerful answer didn't reassure her. She'd yet to win one of these arguments with her aunt, and she glumly resigned herself to having an unwanted assistant.

Swinging by the front of the courthouse, Jaye picked Lindsay up and drove back out to her aunt's house. They said little on the drive back from town, two strangers thrown together by circumstances, and extremely uncomfortable circumstances at that. Jaye noticed Lindsay casting the occasional speculative glance her way, but concentrated on her driving.

Delia had vanished from the back seat to...well, wherever she hung out. The Canadian shied away from considering that too closely. Raised on a mixture of her father's religious conservatism and her aunt's unstructured spiritualism, she'd long ago thrown up her hands in confusion and declined to incorporate any theological considerations into her life, preferring to live in the here and now. Just one more thing Dad has against Auntie Dee.

They stopped at the entrance to the property to pick up the four days of mail stuffed in the rural mailbox. Their arrival in front of her aunt's home shook Jaye out of her somber reverie, as she parked in the driveway. The women entered the house, and Lindsay wordlessly set the mail on the sideboard, kicking off her shoes before heading straight for her room.

The redhead was just reaching for the doorknob when Jaye suddenly called out, "Wait!"

Startled, Lindsay turned, her head cocked curiously.

Blushing faintly with embarrassment, Jaye explained, "Um, I sort of broke something in there. Let me clean up the glass so you don't get cut."

The Canadian wasn't sure if she really heard her aunt's soft "I told you so," or only imagined it, but she grabbed a broom and dustpan and hastened to sweep up the shards of glass from the broken picture frame.

Jaye stood with the pan full of broken glass and, refusing to meet Lindsay's eyes, muttered, "Sorry."

A hand reached out to stop her as she tried to get by the woman in the doorway. Reluctantly she looked up, startled to see amazing compassion in the soft green eyes regarding her.

"It's all right. I'd have been just as angry in your shoes."

Jaye ducked her head in acknowledgement.

"I'm going to grab a quick shower. Why don't you see if there's anything in the kitchen we can heat up for dinner? I think I left some stew in the freezer."

Relieved that the incident hadn't caused any further difficulties between them, Jaye took the debris to the kitchen and dumped the broken glass into the large dustbin. Suddenly aware that her stomach was reminding her that she'd eaten almost nothing since being notified of her aunt's death, the famished woman eagerly rummaged in the freezer and dug out a loaf of frozen bread and a plastic container labeled "beef stew".

By the time Lindsay made her appearance, her hair still damp from the shower, and dressed in jeans, moccasins and a fisherman's knit sweater, Jaye had managed to scoop enough of the frozen mixture into a pot to satisfy them both. The loaf was warming in the oven, and the kettle was on for tea.

They consumed the simple meal in relative silence, but once it was done and the dishes cleared away, they settled in to compare notes. After reviewing the basic facts of the case as they knew them, Jaye asked, "Did Auntie Dee have any run-ins with anyone lately?"

Lindsay considered the questions. "Well, there was Ab Saunders, but she's been feuding with him for years. We chased him off about a month ago, but I don't think more than a few weeks go by at a time that we don't have to run him off again. I really can't see him committing murder, though."

Jaye nodded, thinking of the cantankerous, old outdoorsman whose family had once owned Delia's property. Ab had never reconciled himself to the loss of his boyhood land, even though his father had lost it for failure to pay taxes over forty years before. He'd been a thorn in Delia's side for decades, sneakily poaching and using the land like it was still his own. Her aunt occasionally got angry enough to have Ab arrested, but the slaps on the wrist he received never deterred him for long. Ab was a mouthy eccentric who alternately bragged about his activities and swore vengeance on Delia for imagined crimes, but the dark-haired woman was pretty sure he was all talk.

"Yeah, if he was going to do anything, you'd think he'd have done it years ago. Why would he wait until now? Still, it doesn't hurt to look into what he's been up to."

Lindsay got up and found a notebook in a kitchen drawer, then returned to the table, Jaye watched, amused, as the redhead neatly labeled the first page, "Ab Saunders", then diligently noted down dates and incidents going back a year.

When she was done, Lindsay looked up and smiled a bit sheepishly. "I can't help it. I'm a compulsive note taker. Delia used to complain that I left stickies all over the house."

The pair sobered at the thought of the absent woman, before Lindsay sighed and carried on.

"Anyway, as near as I can recall, these are the approximate encounters we had with Ab since I've lived here."

Jaye looked them over and nodded her approval. If nothing else, it would give them ammunition to pass on to Dolan. "So, anyone else? Anything recent that you can think of?"

Lindsay furrowed her brow in concentration and the shorter woman remained silent, giving her time to think. The redhead bit her lip in frustration and ran a slender hand through her hair.

"I can't think of anything. I mean, she had a pretty nasty exchange with Derek Mains a little while ago, but she hasn't heard from him since."

The name was unfamiliar to Jaye. "Derek Mains?"

The other woman waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, just a land developer who was trying to convince Delia to sell. He wanted to build a resort or something on her land, but of course she turned him down flat."

Her normally amiable eyes hardened as Jaye said slowly, "Tell me more about this Mains character."

Before answering, Lindsay turned a page and labeled the new one "Derek Mains". Writing as she thought, she filled her companion in.

"He first approached her about three months after I came here to live, so that would be a little over a year ago. Delia let him give his spiel, and he promised her everything under the sun if she'd sell; then she politely told him she wasn't interested. He wouldn't take no for an answer, though. Kept writing, phoning, and approaching her on the streets."

Jaye laughed. "Oh yeah, I can see where that would've gone over well."

Lindsay chuckled in response. "Uh huh. Delia was about to spit nails by the twentieth time she'd said no. Then Mains got the bright idea that she wouldn't deal with him because he was an 'outsider', so he enlisted local help."

A groan greeted the recounting of that brilliant ploy. "I'll just bet Auntie Dee was impressed by that!"

"No kidding!" Lindsay giggled. "And it didn't help that he hooked up with Mary Reynolds."

"Reynolds, Reynolds... The only Reynolds I remember was Neal and Tessa Reynolds and their bunch of kids."

"Well, Stu Reynolds is their third son and he's married to Mary Fessler, now Mary Reynolds."

"Not one of the Fesslers?" Jaye shook her head remembering a perpetually whining, discontented brood. "Do they all still have badly dyed hair piled to the skies?"

Lindsay grinned at her. "I take it you're acquainted with the Fesslers?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Serena Fessler was my age. She had her eye set on Dolan, so when he and I were dating, she kept trying to come between us. Just about drove me crazy one summer!"

To Jaye's surprise, the younger woman's good humour seemed to vanish instantly, and she picked up her narrative in a subdued tone. "Anyway, Mary is a local councilwoman, and she tried approaching Delia on the basis that this new resort would be great for the community, and shouldn't that be Dee's first consideration. She came on really strong, trying to convince Delia that she was being selfish. Honestly, if her arthritis hadn't been particularly bad that day, I swear Dee would've picked the woman up herself and thrown her out on her ear. As it was, I was instructed in no uncertain terms to show the greedy money-grubber to the door."

Jaye felt a trace of excitement. "Hmm, so Auntie Dee thought Mary was getting a kickback from Mains?" Money was one of the oldest motives in the book for murder, and the Fessler crowd had never had a scruple to share among them.

"No, not exactly. Actually we talked about that later. It was common knowledge that Mary and Derek were having an affair. They weren't all that discreet about it. Delia figured Mary thought Derek was going to take her out of this place to live the high life that she considered her proper birthright."

"Money AND sex...even better as motives."

"I suppose." Lindsay looked doubtful. "I don't particularly like either of them, and I feel really sorry for Stu, but I'm not sure I could see them murdering Delia. How would that help their cause? Would you sell to them?"

"Wouldn't just be my decision, would it?" Jaye asked, a trifle stiffly. She was coming to like this young woman, but her aunt's inclination to treat Lindsay like family still rankled.

Puzzled, Lindsay asked, "What do you mean? I thought you were Delia's only living relative?"

"You really don't know?"

"Know what?"

Jaye could tell that the younger woman was genuinely puzzled, and any lingering doubts about her innocence vanished. "Delia included you in her will. That was supposed to be your motive for killing her."

Lindsay gaped at her, obviously stunned at the revelation.

Curiously, the dark-haired woman asked, "Didn't they accuse you of that when they arrested you?"

Saddened eyes dropped. "They accused me of so many hideous things. The sheriff wouldn't let me clean her blood off me, and he just kept hammering at me hour after hour, trying to get me to confess. I'm afraid I blanked most of it out of my mind. I got the impression that they thought we'd had a falling out or something. They kept asking about arguments we were supposed to have had."

She shook her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. "We've never argued once. Not once."

There was a long silence as Lindsay struggled to regain her composure. Finally, trying to lighten the atmosphere, Jaye asked jokingly, "Not even over her nightly tot? I'd have thought that, as her caregiver, you'd have clamped down on that habit."

Jaye was inordinately pleased to see that elicit a small grin as Lindsay shook her head.

"Actually, she got me into the same routine. We used to sit outside and watch the stars come out while we had a glass of rum. I'm not a professional nurse or anything. I just needed a job; and I'd had experience looking after my mother for many years when she was ill so when I saw her notice, I applied and was hired." Her smile grew soft and contemplative. "It was the best decision I ever made. Your aunt was a very special person."

"Mmm hmm. No question there." Jaye realized that the affection she'd sensed from her aunt for this young woman hadn't been one-sided. The two women had obviously developed a close bond in the year and a half they'd been together. Slowly her jealousy faded, to be replaced by a growing sense of gratitude that her aunt had had such a cherished companion in her final months.

Visibly pulling herself out of her thoughts, Lindsay turned a new page and asked, "What about you? Do you know anyone who hated Delia?"

"Aside from my father, you mean?" The dry question got Jaye a quizzical look and she shook her head.

"No, he's not a suspect. He and I were having lunch in Toronto about the time Auntie Dee was killed." She paused thoughtfully. "He did thoroughly dislike her, though. He once told me that if my mother hadn't made him promise on her deathbed to let Delia be involved in my life, he'd have cut her off and never let her see me again."

"Why did he hate her so much?" Lindsay's head tilted curiously in a gesture that Jaye was coming to recognize as characteristic.

"You know, I've never really been sure. I asked him once, but all he'd say was that she wasn't a proper influence on a growing girl. Still, I have to give him credit. He kept his promise to Mom and let me stay with Auntie Dee every summer." She laughed ruefully. "Mind you, he deprogrammed me rigorously every September. I had to go to church three times a week for the first month after I came back from Tucker's Way."

Jaye glanced over at Lindsay, only to see an oddly comprehending look on the other woman's face. She was about to question the origin of the enigmatic look when Lindsay closed her notebook firmly.

"It's late. I think I'm going to call it a day and enjoy sleeping in my own bed tonight. Those jail cots are gawdawful!"

"Okay. I'm going to go have a few words with Mary Reynolds tomorrow, and see if Derek Mains is around right now, too."

Lindsay paused and turned in the doorway of the kitchen. Fixing Jaye with a stern glance she corrected, "We're going to go do interviews tomorrow."

Without waiting for a response, she left; and Jaye could hear her walking down the hardwood hallway. The chagrined woman grunted to herself. She hadn't thought that she'd get away with unilateral action, but she'd had to at least try.

Deciding that she might as well retire herself, she cleared away the teacups, turned out the kitchen lights, and made her way to her aunt's room. It wasn't until she was settled in under Delia's thick down comforter that Jaye remembered she'd forgotten to call Ronald. Feeling mildly guilty that she hadn't thought of him at all, she justified it to herself. Been a busy day. He'll understand. I'll call him tomorrow.

Chapter Thirteen

Lindsay surreptitiously glanced at Jaye as the dark-haired woman maneuvered through the hilly streets to Mary's house. Her companion had been withdrawn that morning, and the redhead wondered if Delia's niece had changed her mind about her innocence since the previous evening. Deciding not to rock the boat for the moment, she pointed out a pretentiously large brick house up ahead, a white Crown Victoria parked outside the double garage.

Jaye nodded her acknowledgement. "Looks like we timed it just right, her car's still here. Are you ready for this?"

Drawing a deep breath, the redhead tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach. Then giving her companion a weak smile, she said, "I think so. I just hope that Mary's greed blinds her to the fact that our visit is very sudden, considering Dee was only buried yesterday."

Jaye grinned back reassuringly, her eyes now warm and supportive. Lindsay drank in the unexpected comfort and tried to ignore the suspicion that they might be about to confront Delia's murderer. "This always looks so easy in the movies," she muttered as she exited the car, "but I don't feel much like Mrs. Fletcher."

A chuckle let her know she'd been overheard. "Try being Colombo, then. You've got the rain coat for it."

Lindsay gave Jaye a mock glare and shrugged off the garment in question, tossing it into the back seat of the Jeep. It had been showering lightly when they left the cottage a short while before, but the rain had stopped and the sun was trying to break through the clouds. Mentally girding her loins, Lindsay marched up to the door, followed closely by her companion. As she pressed the chimes, she quickly ran through the plan they'd devised over French toast that morning.

The door swung open, and a buxom, heavily made up, platinum blonde with hair piled up in an outdated bouffant stared at them in amazement. Giving an exaggerated gasp, the woman pointed a red lacquered fingernail at Lindsay. "Don't even think about coming in my house, you killer!" Switching her gaze to Jaye, she immediately assumed a look of simpering sympathy. "Oh, my dear Jaye, I'm so, so sorry about your aunt. You must be just devastated, you poor thing. Do come in."

Lindsay grimaced, prepared to remain outside, until Jaye smiled sweetly and extended the bait. "I asked her to come along, Mary. I'm convinced of Lindsay's innocence and have no doubt she'll be exonerated with the new evidence that's come to light. She's out on bail right now and assisting me in plans to sell my property. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have known you and Derek Mains were inquiring after it."

Mary perked up noticeably, giving both women a coy smile, displaying large, overly white teeth. "Oh, new evidence, you say. Well, that's different, then. You know I never really believed that you did it, Lindsay. I'm just glad this whole terrible matter is going to be resolved one way or another. And if Derek and I can help you settle up Delia's estate, then we'd be happy to do that, Jaye. Why don't you come in and we'll talk about it. Unfortunately I don't have much time this morning, but perhaps we can take care of the preliminaries and plan to meet again later."

Jaye took a step towards the door, then stopped and firmly placed her hand under Lindsay's elbow, guiding her ahead through the doorway. Mary stiffened, but didn't protest, merely indicating that they should make their way into the living room.

The guests took their place on an immaculate white sofa, while Mary perched on a tapestried Queen Anne chair opposite them.

Flashing Lindsay a quick glance, Jaye set the tone immediately. Looking around the ostentatiously over decorated room, she offered a compliment. "It's a lovely home you have here. You and Stu have certainly done well for yourselves. And I hear you got elected to the city council, too. Congratulations."

Mary's face froze at the mention of her husband, but she recovered quickly. "Thank you. It was time to get some of that old stagnant blood out of there. We need to attract newcomers to build up the local economy, and that takes fresh ideas."

Barely pausing for breath, she continued, "That's why I was talking to your aunt about that land. She didn't take kindly to Derek just because he was an outsider, but I know how important it is for this town's economy to attract developers like him. See, Derek already has all the financial backing in place to build a brand new resort. Think of all the revenue that would generate from well-heeled tourists looking for a pristine hideaway. If this town can't come up with the land, he'll just take his business and go elsewhere."

Smoothly, Jaye interjected, "I'm not so sure that would be a bad thing. He is an outsider, after all. What if he doesn't have the backing he claims to have? Has anyone checked his background or credentials?"

Mary smirked conspiratorially. "Now don't you worry about that, dear. He's definitely got the financing in place." Seeing the indecision on Jaye's face, she hastened to assure her, "Let's just say I have some inside knowledge."

Jaye winked knowingly, and with unctuous confidentiality, loudly whispered, "I've heard you have more than just inside knowledge. Word's out that you've been getting your information during pillow talk."

Mary's eyes shone with triumph even as she looked around furtively, placing her finger against her lips. "Shhh. That's just gossip. Now don't you go believing every little thing you hear, Jaye."

Lindsay, who had been sitting quietly watching the two women verbally fence, was amazed at the smarmy smile Jaye was able to conjure up as she drawled,
"Well, no, not everything. But hey, when the whole town is saying the same thing..."

A muffled noise came from the back area of the house. Abruptly standing, Mary asked with sudden nervousness, "Would you like some coffee?"

Lindsay shook her head, and Jaye said, "No thanks, but you go ahead."

Mary left hastily, her eyes darting down the hallway. Lindsay leaned close to Jaye, her voice quiet. "Stu must still be here."

"Either that or they've got a big mouse problem," Jaye agreed, remorsefully. "Maybe we shouldn't have said anything. I don't exactly want to be the one breaking it to Stu that his wife is sleeping around."

Lindsay considered that. She didn't want to hurt Stu either. She didn't know him well, but he'd always been polite to her and Delia. Hesitantly she offered, "He may not have heard us, or he may even know about it already. They haven't exactly been subtle about it. Even Delia knew about it, and she had no use whatsoever for malicious gossip."

"Probably so." Jaye sighed. "I feel so sorry for him, though. I expect since he can't take her any higher up the social ladder, Mary will discard him like an old dishrag the first chance she gets. I'm betting all Derek had to do was wave a ticket out of town under her nose, and she fell right into his bed. Stu deserves a lot better than that."

Coffee cup in hand, Mary walked back into the living room, carefully closing the double door to the hallway behind her. "So, where were we? Oh yes, I was telling you how good such a development would be for the town. You know, if we could come to some sort of preliminary agreement, I could make the announcement at the next council meeting." She beamed at Jaye.

Lindsay struggled to keep the contempt off her face. The woman was unbelievable. Her self-serving motivations were patently obvious. The only questions were how Derek fit into the equation, and whether the two had schemed to kill Dee. She was amazed when Jaye was able to produce a conspiratorial smile of her own.

"Did you explain to my aunt how vital it was to the town? I'm sure if she had realized the economic potential for Tucker's Way, she would've been interested in doing her part. She was always a huge civic booster."

The blonde fluttered her thickly mascara laden eyelashes. "Oh, of course, but sadly I think she was living in bygone days when the cannery was the biggest employer in town, which was all well and good, but Tucker's Way has tremendous potential to grow. We both explained to her how important it was to plan for the future, but she refused to give us the time of day. Why, last time we went to her house, she even ordered Derek to leave and threatened him with bodily harm." Aggrieved, Mary looked at Lindsay who almost gagged at the injured indignation on the woman's face. "You just ask her. She was there. Your aunt was getting on in age and I think... No, I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. It's obvious that your priorities at least are in the right place, given that you care enough about the town to offer the property."

Jaye leaned back in the soft white cushions and looked at Mary speculatively. "We'll, I wouldn't exactly say I'm offering it. More like selling it. What's the offer?"

"$150,000. That's top dollar."

The Canadian snorted. "Mary, you insult me. I may not live here, but I know for damn sure that's only a fraction of what the property's worth."

With a slightly chagrined chuckle, Mary conceded, "Business is business. Can't blame me for trying. Derek told me he was willing to go to $200,000, but not a dollar more."

Jaye shook her head scornfully. "Seaside property-I don't think so. The land is worth a minimum of $350,000 in the private market, and triple that in the commercial market. I think you'd better have another discussion with Derek while I'm in the mood to sell. I could change my mind tomorrow."

Mary held up a placating hand as she set her cup aside. "Now, please, Jaye, don't be hasty. He's out of town until tonight, but I'm supposed to meet him at Poseidon's Loft for dinner. I'll talk to him then and see if he'll come up on the bid somewhat."

Giving a noncommittal shrug, Jaye stood, followed quickly by Lindsay who was grateful the distasteful encounter was almost over. "Remind him that I don't think it would be too difficult to find investors to meet my selling price." At the worried look on the blonde's face, she added conciliatorily, "Why don't you just set up an appointment for us to meet so we can hash this out?"

Mary nodded vigorously, and offered Jaye her hand. "I'll do that, and call you tomorrow morning, okay?"

"That would be fine, Mary. Thanks for your time."

Mary escorted them to the door, and both women drew a deep breath of the cool, fresh air once they were safely outdoors. They looked each other, nearly identical rueful expressions on their faces.

"Well, that was a barrel of laughs, wasn't it?" Jaye commented as she led the way to the Jeep.

Lindsay shook her head disdainfully. "She's really something, isn't she? All she cares about is a fast track out of town and a bundle of money to grease the way. That's garbage about the resort saving the local economy... We have our ups and downs sure, but in general we're doing just fine. Delia specifically chose not to sell because she didn't want a big influx of strangers ruining the Tucker's Way she loved for so long."

Jaye swung into the Jeep, and Lindsay smiled as the balky starter coughed and protested before turning over the engine. Her companion absently patted the dash as she said, "I know, but Mary bought that drivel I was spouting, and that's all that matters. I need to talk to Derek, too. He just might be in over his head with the investors, making promises he hasn't been able to keep. If he is, that would give him a pretty strong motive for murder. Mary's possible motive is obvious, that's for sure. I don't think there's much she'd stop at in her pursuit of wealth and status. Now we just have to figure out if one or the other did it, or if they were in it together. For that matter, we can't close our minds to other possibilities, either. It could be entirely unconnected to Auntie Dee's land, though at the moment I can't imagine what else it might be. We're just at the beginning; and I suspect we have a long way before we'll discover the whole truth of what went on."

Lindsay relaxed back into her seat as much as she could in the aging Jeep, enjoying the feel of the clean air on her face as Jaye sped away from the Reynolds house. The encounter with the shallow, calculating councilwoman had left her feeling soiled, and she half-wished that they were heading home so she could shower again.

******************************************

Stu sank onto the bed in anguish, and lowered his head to his hands. The whole town knew. Jaye hadn't even been back in town for two day, and she'd already heard the rumors. How was he supposed to face the guys at work, or walk down Main Street knowing the whispers that were going on behind his back? "Stupid, stupid!" Stu pounded his fist against his thigh.

For months now he had tried to ignore the evidence right under his nose, tried to deny that he smelled the scent of an unfamiliar cologne on his wife's body when she came to bed after late night "business meetings," tried to overlook the furtive phone calls and hide his hurt at the way Mary avoided his slightest touch.

He wracked his brain trying to figure out where things had gone wrong. He worked all the overtime he could get, so that his wife could enjoy the nice things that she coveted so much. He sent her away on exotic vacations that he couldn't afford to take himself. He had never even so much as looked at another woman since they'd been married. Yet none of it mattered. It was obvious that Mary had no regard for the sanctity of their marriage, and did nothing to hide her indiscretions from the town's folk.

As Stu rocked back and forth on his bed, his imagination summoned unwanted images of that slimy city slicker fucking his wife, and his agony slowly turned to anger as he pictured the two of them laughing at him, mocking his slow speech and country ways.

When he heard his wife's car start up, he raised his head, chillingly aware that she no longer even bothered to say hello or goodbye. Standing, he jammed his meaty hands into his coverall pockets and stood by the window watching his wife drive away. His eyes hardened with a new determination. It was personal now. He couldn't let them get away with what they'd done.

**************************************

"We'll be lucky to catch Ab at home. He spends most of his waking hours out in the woods."

Lindsay grinned at Jaye's words, her spirits uplifted even though they still had to talk to their next suspect. Ab Saunders might be a cranky, crotchety old man, but he didn't hide his feelings with sweet talk and syrupy sentiments. It would be a relief to deal with forthright nastiness after the earlier interview. "It's still early. We could sit on the front porch and wait for him. I have a feeling he'd know we were there. Ornery as he is, he'll probably beat feet to chase us off his property for trespassing."

Jaye chuckled at the image. "You're probably right. I can just see him come storming out of the woods. It'll be a good way to catch him off guard."

Arriving at the end of the rutted, dirt road, Jaye pulled Henri off the lane and the two women exited, making their way to the simple log cabin. Tall pine trees shaded the dwelling, which was fronted by a neatly cleared area.

Lindsay looked around, surprised. "I've never been here before. I didn't expect..."

"Ab's always been at one with nature. He wouldn't harm anything he didn't need. Even when he poaches on Aunt Delia's property, it's only for food. He smokes his own meat and pretty much lives off the land."

"I wonder why he-"

"Hunted on Dee's land? To irritate her, and to show her he'd do as he pleased no matter how many times she had him arrested." Jaye shrugged. "He's just plain cantankerous."

"I guess." Lindsay sat down next to Jaye, who was already settled on the front steps.

"He should be here any time now. Keep your eyes open. I want to see if he comes from the direction of my aunt's property."

Lindsay nodded, training her eyes on the trees, but very aware of Jaye's presence next to her.

They didn't have long to wait. Within moments Ab Saunders came stalking out of the woods, his twelve-gauge shotgun half raised toward his porch.

"Git offa my lan'."

Lindsay glared at him warningly. "Ab, put that gun down. We just want to ask you some questions."

"I ain't answaing none of yah questions. Now git outta heya."

"We can leave now. But if you don't talk to us, you'll be talking to the sheriff." Jaye pointed over to the trees. "Over there, where you came out? That's my property now, and I bet if I go look, I'll find the dinner you caught for yourself on my land."

"It ain't yah land no mowan it was Delia's. Bitch waited, plottin' with the bank to foreclose on it."

Jaye's angry eyes flashed. "Ab! Now you know that's a lie. She bought it after your daddy lost it to unpaid taxes, and you damned well know that! If it hadn't been for her, developers would've come in years ago and build it all up. Your precious hunting grounds would've been all tennis courts and pools. And don't be thinking you can have the run of the place now that she's dead, either! I'll have the law on your ass quicker than she ever did."

Lindsay looked from one to the other, laying a soothing hand on her companion's leg before addressing the woodsman. "We only want to ask you a few questions, Ab. It won't take long."

The antagonistic stare down continued until seconds turned into minutes. Lindsay shrugged and briefly touched Jaye's forearm. "Come on then. Let's go file charges. Bill and Dolan can take care of this."

Nodding, Jaye turned away and began moving toward the Jeep with Lindsay.

Grudgingly Ab gave in. "Wait. What do you want to know?"

Jaye turned around slowly, eying the irritating woodsman while Lindsay questioned him.

"Where were you the afternoon Delia was killed?"

He stared at her incredulously. "Yah gotta be kiddin' me! Wayah the hell am I every day? Right here at home or 'round these parts. Sure wasn't nowhere near town, that's for danged sure." Ab's grey eyes drilled into Lindsay. "I heard you done it. If'n yah thinkin' a puttin' the blame on me, it ain't gonna work."

Jaye snorted. "You know as well as I do, she didn't do it. You, on the other hand, have been giving my aunt a hard time for as long as I can remember. I heard she had you arrested for the umpteenth time last month. Maybe you were so pissed you decided to take her out."

He spat eloquently. "Not likely. Old bitch was always calling the cops on me. Now all of a sudden I'm gonna kill her? Don't think so. 'Sides, if I wanted her dead, she'd 'a been dead a long time ago."

"She was not always calling the cops on you," Lindsay snapped, feeling her own temper begin to rise. "She cut you more slack than anyone else ever would've. I can't remember how many times she asked you politely not to poach on her land, and you ignored her every time. If she'd gone to the police every time she caught you out back in the woods, you'd have a rap sheet longer than my arm."

"Well, if that's all you wanted to ask, you come to the wrong place. Now you can both just git off'n my land." He turned around and strode back to the cabin, muttering, "Of all the horseshit, tryin' to pin a murder on me."

Ignoring his departure, Jaye gazed at Lindsay with concern. "Hey, you okay?"

The redhead kicked at an inoffensive clod of dirt and muttered, "Yeah. He just made me mad." She looked up and met Jaye's eyes squarely, her voice defiant. "Every word that came out of his mouth about Delia was a lie, and I had just had enough. She never once treated him unfairly, and all he ever did was aggravate her."

"I know. It's been that way for years. I just don't see him harming her, though." Jaye's face turned pensive. "Whether or not he admits it, deep down he has to know that she's protected the land by not selling out to developers. He wanders into town just enough to get the gossip and slips right back out. He may be a nasty piece of work, but he's not stupid."

"I didn't really think he'd done it either, but I still don't like him," Lindsay grumbled.

Jaye chuckled. "His bark is worse than his bite. I'd be playing in the woods when I was a kid, and he was always trying to scare me. I got pretty good at outsmarting him, and let me tell you, that didn't go over very well."

Lindsay smiled, her imagination caught by the image of a small Jaye taunting the ornery woodsman and getting away with it. "No, I don't imagine it would've. How about calling it a day? We can't interview Derek until he gets back to town, and after meeting with Ab and Mary, I need a break."

"Okay. I need to pick up some groceries, anyway." Jaye looked at the mildly scolding eyes gazing at her from underneath a raised eyebrow and amended, "We. We need to pick up groceries."

It was a small victory, Lindsay knew, but Jaye's implied acceptance still gave her a warm glow as they drove away. And in the horror that had been this past week, she would gladly accept the tiniest successes wherever she found them.

********************************

Jaye tried to ignore the insistent voice of her aunt. In her waking dream she was a child again and trying to sleep in, but Delia kept insisting she get up. Drowsily she hoped that if she kept pretending to be asleep, her aunt might give up.

The voice got louder and more insistent. "Jaye, get up right now! The house is on fire!"

As she reluctantly rose toward consciousness, Jaye smelled the faint tinges of smoke beginning to permeate the air in her bedroom and broke free of the cobwebs of sleep. "What the hell..."

Casting the sheet aside, her feet were on the floor before she realized the ghostly apparition of her aunt was present, and the voice hadn't been a dream.

Frantically Delia urged, "Come on, hurry up. You've gotta wake Lindsay and get out of here."

Jaye slid on her loafers, barely hearing her aunt as she raced to the door and down the hallway into Lindsay's bedroom. Grabbing the redhead's shoulder and shaking it hard, she said urgently, "Wake up. The house is on fire." Ignoring the look of alarm on the other woman's face, Jaye literally pulled her from the bed.

She saw comprehension dawn on Lindsay's face a nanosecond before the redhead began moving of her own accord, jogging next to her down the hall.

Amidst the thickening smoke, Jaye grabbed Lindsay's hand as they ran toward the front door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the redhead grab the phone from the side table, never missing a step. Impressed with Lindsay's quick thinking, Jaye finally breathed a sigh of relief when they cleared the steps to the front yard.

As she sucked in deep lungfuls of the clear night air, a movement at the edge of the tree line caught her attention. Instincts blaring an alarm, she began sprinting toward a dark figure disappearing into the deep woods, hollering back over her shoulder, "Call the police!"

****************************************************

Lindsay watched Jaye give chase as she dialed 911, hearing the faint wail of sirens already sounding in the distance. She reported the fire, wondering who had already called in the alarm. After requesting the police, she momentarily trained her eyes on the woods where Delia's niece had disappeared.

As the town's lone fire truck pulled into the yard, she moved back out of the way. Three of the town's volunteer firemen quickly dismounted and began pulling hoses from the truck, tugging them around the side of the house to the rear where the smoke was the thickest. Within moments, the fire was out, but wisps of smoke continued to drift upward. Lindsay followed the trail of hoses to the back of the house, watching the mop up operations now that the worst of the danger was over.

Chuck Tillman walked up, wiping one sooty hand over his face. "You okay, Lindsay?"

Smiling at the fire chief, she answered, "Thanks to Jaye, I'm fine. I don't know how she woke up so quickly. The smoke wasn't even that bad until we got out of the place."

"You're both lucky. Much longer, and that fire might've really caught on." Chuck gestured toward the still smoking woodbin outside the kitchen door. "Not much damage except for smoke. Where's Jaye?"

"She saw some guy over there by the woods and took off after him."

"Well, the fire is definitely arson." Chuck pushed back his helmet and scratched his head. "But it doesn't make much sense to just set the woodbin on fire. You can smell the kerosene on the kindling. If the arsonist had wanted to burn the place down, you'd have thought he'd have splashed that stuff all over the house." He snorted and gazed off to the woods. "I see Jaye hasn't changed. Still rushes headlong into the unknown."

Lindsay smiled wryly. "I think she was pissed."

"Can't say I blame her..."

***********************************************

Jaye reached the wood line within seconds of the man's disappearance. She paused momentarily to ascertain the direction of his flight. It was obvious by the noise he was making that he was more intent on getting away quickly than on concealing his presence.

The Canadian was no stranger to these woods and smiled knowingly. From the sounds of it, he was headed toward the Back Bay dock. Made sense that he'd come by boat. Gambling that she'd guessed right, Jaye took a shortcut she'd learned as a child and arrived at the clearing just before Stu Reynolds crashed out of the timber.

His eyes wide, Stu started backing into the woods.

Tensing in case he bolted and she had to give chase, Jaye stated the obvious. "It's not going to do you any good to run, Stu. You're caught red handed."

Stu's shoulders slumped as he stopped. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Jaye approached Stu and gestured to the woods. "Come on. You can tell that to Dolan."

As they walked back toward her aunt's house, Jaye mulled over the strange sequence of events. First her aunt was murdered, and now an old acquaintance had bungled an attempt to set the house on fire. The dark-haired woman shook her head gloomily. What dire tide of events had her favorite aunt unwittingly set in motion...and how was she going to stop it?

******************************************

"Here she comes." Lindsay frowned as she peered at the approaching duo. "That's Stu Reynolds with her. I wonder what..." She trailed off, puzzled.

Bill Webster pulled into the driveway, exited the police car leaving the emergency lights flashing, and sauntered over to the growing group of people. Scowling at Lindsay, he said coldly, "Fire looks under control. Why'd you tell Dispatch you needed the police?"

Lindsay pursed her lips, but was spared from further insult by Jaye's arrival.

Crossing her arms, Jaye met Webster's insulting gaze with an icy glare. "Last I heard, it's your job to protect the citizens of this town."

"Yeah. So? In case you hadn't noticed, the fire's out."

Chuck interrupted. "The fire was arson."

"I wasn't tryin' to hurt anyone. Hell, I even called the fire department and waited to make sure they got out of the house before I took off." The voice was low and apologetic.

All eyes turned to Stu and the sheriff gave an exasperated snort. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Stuie. What the hell was in your mind? This has got to be one of the all time dumbest stunts you've ever pulled. Well, let's hear it. What in tarnation did you think you were going to accomplish here?"

Hanging his head, Stu blurted out, "I heard my wife and that damned developer plotting to murder Delia to get her land. Next thing I know, she turns up dead, and they were just going to walk cuz of Lindsay getting the blame. I had to do something."

Webster spat and shook his head in disgust. "So you try to burn down Delia's house. What the hell was that supposed to do?"

Still looking down at the ground, Stu muttered, "I was going to frame them for the fire. Had to make them pay for killing Delia somehow. Put some rags and an empty gas can in that rat bastard's garage and sprinkled some kerosene in my wife's trunk. I was going to call in an anonymous tip once I was safe at home."

"I've known you, what? More'n thirty years now, right?" When Stu nodded, Bill continued, "So why the hell didn't you just come and tell me what they'd done?"

Stu looked at him in anguish. "Would you have believed me? More likely you'd have thought I was just trying to get back at Mary for having an affair with that pissant."

Shaking his head the sheriff said, "Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, I'm gonna have to take you in and charge you for this fool plan. If you're lucky, you might get released on your own recognizance, but I wouldn't lay any money on it. Damn stupid thing to do, Stu!" Disgustedly Webster glanced at Lindsay and added, "You mighta just got lucky. 'Pears I'm gonna have to haul Mary and Derek in for some questioning." He spat on the ground. "Never had so much trouble before the outsiders came around."

"It would just kill you to say you were wrong, wouldn't it?" Jaye commented dryly. She grinned mirthlessly as the sheriff ignored her and shepherded Stu towards the cruiser.

Half an hour later, Lindsay stood next to Jaye, watching all the emergency vehicles leave, exhausted and relieved all at the same time. "I still can't believe Mary and Derek would kill Delia. No land is worth someone's life, especially not hers." She swallowed hard against the grief that threatened to resurface.

Jaye looked at her understandingly, the same sadness in her eyes. "People have murdered for less." Her voice hardened as she continued. "I hope they both rot in jail for the rest of their miserable, misbegotten lives. It still wouldn't balance out what they did to Auntie Dee."

Lindsay felt an overwhelming urge to sling a comforting arm around Jaye's shoulders, as she'd done countless times with the woman's aunt. Resisting the impulse, she cautioned, "It'll depend on what evidence they come up with. I doubt they're just going to confess, and Stu's statement will be weak. He was right about that. The defense will play up the jealous husband aspect."

Jaye sighed. "Yeah. But you can testify about Derek's interest in her property, and how he refused to take no for an answer. That should count for something."

Lindsay nodded, then glancing at Jaye, she tried unsuccessfully to swallow a chuckle.

The Canadian looked at her in surprise. "Something funny?"

Trying not to laugh, Lindsay commented, "Tweetie bird pajamas?"

Jaye glanced down at herself and deadpanned. "Hey, at least I had the bottoms on this time."

Chuckling, the two women walked into the house to survey the smoke damage.

Chapter Fourteen

Exhausted from the previous night's excitement, Jaye slept uncharacteristically late and woke to the wonderful aroma of bacon and potent coffee. Smiling, she rolled onto her back and stretched luxuriously. Reflecting on the events of the last few days, she was mildly surprised that her overwhelming grief at her aunt's death had subsided to a dull ache.

Nailing her killers helped. So had the company of a certain green-eyed woman. When they had returned from their interviews and grocery shopping the previous day, the two women had spent the afternoon hiking over Delia's land and along the beach. The sustained activity had pulled Jaye's focus away from her sorrow for a while, and Lindsay's tales about her aunt served to further distract her.

The more time the Canadian spent with her aunt's companion, the more she realized how well matched the pair had been. They were both sharp-witted, strong, insightful women. Neither was naïve about the ways of the world, but both had a rugged optimism about life in general.

In the evening, Lindsay and Jaye had poured a ritual glass of black rum, taken it out under the stars and toasted Delia's life. By the time the chill air drove them back inside to a warm hearth, Jaye's original rancor had faded entirely and she found herself genuinely enjoying the other woman's company. The crackling fire was the perfect backdrop to Lindsay's stories as she regaled the Canadian for hours on end.

Jaye could have sworn she had heard her aunt laughing delightedly at the redhead's astute but amiable dissection of Tucker's Way inhabitants and culture. Her affection for the locals was apparent, even as she related their quirks and antics. For all her stories, though, Lindsay had said very little about her own past, other than that she came from Oregon, and her mother's death after a long illness had propelled her into the job with Delia. Even when Jaye had told her about her job as a crime-scene photographer and her relationship with Ronald, the younger woman hadn't reciprocated with any personal details.

Ronald! Damn. Jaye groaned inwardly, reluctantly tearing her mind from the pleasant memories of the previous night. For all her good intentions, she had forgotten to call her boyfriend again yesterday. Well, it's not like he bothered to call me, either. Sighing, she dismissed the petulant thought and rolled over to check the clock. Deciding he'd just be getting ready for work, she picked up the bedside phone.

When a woman's voice answered after a couple of rings, Jaye's first thought was that she'd misdialed, but then she heard Ronald's voice in the background.

"I told you not to answer the damned phone!"

"But Ronnie, you were in the shower." The woman's whine was cut off as Ronald came on the line.

"Hello? Hello?"

Without a word, Jaye hung up the phone and stared at the receiver. When it rang, she knew he had used his Caller ID to identify her. When the jangling stopped abruptly, she guessed that Lindsay had picked up the kitchen extension. Her supposition was validated when a soft tap came at her door.

"Jaye? Are you awake? There's a gentleman calling for you."

"Tell him..." Jaye hesitated. What did she want to tell him? Well, nothing that Lindsay would probably want to repeat. "Tell him I'm not accepting his calls."

There was a brief silence and then a muted, "Um, okay. Breakfast is almost ready if you are."

Jaye grunted an acknowledgement, then pulled a pillow over her head to muffle an aggrieved yell.

"Told you he was a lowlife, J-mac. It's in the eyes. Always check the eyes."

She groaned and tossed the pillow aside, eying her aunt's ghost perched comfortably at the foot of the bed. Scowling, she pushed herself upright and clasped her knees.

"Oh, don't give me that look. You couldn't care less that he's messing around with some bimbo. Your pride is just hurt, that's all."

Jaye let her head drop against her knees and considered her aunt's words. She had to admit Delia was right. Ronald's cheating wasn't exactly breaking her heart. If anything, she should be grateful to the anonymous bimbo for pushing her into a decision she'd been procrastinating over for many months. Her relationship with her now ex had been anemic at best. She had to search her mind to remember what she'd ever seen in him...and when she'd last seen it.

Refusing to give her smug relative the satisfaction, however, she snapped, "I do so care." Then ignoring Delia's skeptical expression, she continued in a milder tone, "I wasn't sure if I'd see you again, now that we caught your killer."

A troubled look came over the weathered features, and Delia shook her head. Jaye was fascinated by the way the white waves of hair rippled just as they had in life. She almost stretched out her hand, before sad realization checked her movement.

"Something doesn't feel right, but I'm not sure what it is. I just get a sense of something left undone."

Jaye cocked her head curiously. "But we got the killers, Auntie Dee. Stu implicated Mary and Derek after we caught him red-handed last night. I mean, we don't know which of them actually did it, but I'm sure one of them will crack and spill the beans eventually."

The ghost rubbed her forehead in frustration. "I know, and you two did well..."

"But?" Looking expectantly at her aunt, Jaye waited for further explanations.
None came, and when she sought elucidation, Delia waved her off.

"Oh, it's probably nothing, J-mac. Why don't you go have breakfast? I happen to know that Lindsay is an excellent cook." With those words, she just vanished; and Jaye shook her head in bemusement. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to her relative popping in and out so abruptly.

Making her way out to the kitchen, she paused in the doorway to watch Lindsay work over the stove. The woman's movements were deft and graceful as she divided a large omelet onto two plates, added bacon, hash browns and toast and turned to carry them to the table.

The Canadian was warmed by the smile that greeted her when Lindsay saw her. She'd half expected displeasure after she'd used the other woman to convey the brush-off to Ronald.

"Coffee's ready. Why don't you pour a couple of mugs?"

They were halfway through the excellent breakfast before Lindsay remarked casually, "Want to tell me what happened this morning?"

Jaye glanced up sharply, but didn't see anything except uncritical curiosity in her companion's face. As she studied the clear green eyes, her aunt's word resounded in her ears.

It's in the eyes. Always check the eyes.

Lindsay's eyes were compassionate, intelligent, and guileless. And given her unquestionable attractiveness, Jaye wondered again at the absence of romance in the other woman's life. Shaking off that line of thought with a touch of puzzlement, Jaye related the details of her abortive phone call to Ronald.

A slender hand stretched across the table and covered her own. "I'm so sorry."

The simple words crystallized things for Jaye. "I'm not. Auntie Dee was right. He is an idiot, and I'm better off without him."

Lindsay said discreetly, "He wasn't exactly one of her favourite people."

"That's putting it mildly," Jaye chuckled ruefully. "She thought he was all style, no substance, and a few bricks short of a full load to boot...She was right. But then, that's the story of my life." She sighed melodramatically, inwardly delighted when Lindsay laughed out loud.

"She did think your taste in men was..."

"Wretched, pathetic, unbelievably off-base?"

"Flawed." Lindsay gently corrected Jaye's helpful suggestions with a smile.

Jaye grinned. She suspected her salty-tongued relative had used somewhat more emphatic words, but she appreciated Lindsay's attempts to soften the well-merited assessment.

Finishing off the last of the fluffy omelet, she asked, "So, what about you? Is your judgment any better than mine? Any rocky romances in your past?"

"Oh, you know," Lindsay said casually, "everyone has things they regret. My last relationship just sort of petered out when my mother got sick, and I haven't really been looking since."

"Mmm." Jaye wasn't surprised at the noncommittal answer. For someone who spoke easily and openly, the other woman definitely had her off-limits areas.

"So what did you have on the agenda for today?" Lindsay asked, successfully steering them away from any potential awkwardness.

"I want to go through Auntie Dee's papers and get a grasp on any matters that need to be cleared up." Even as she answered, Jaye was conscious of an acute curiosity about the other woman. She attempted to justify her burgeoning fascination with Lindsay through the rationale that she could get a better idea of her aunt's last months by learning more about her constant companion; but in her more honest moments, she knew there was more to it than that.

Nodding her understanding, Lindsay began to clear the table, demurring when Jaye offered to help.

"Why don't you start with her desk? She always did her own paperwork, so I'm not sure what is where, but I assume you'll find her files in there." She hesitated, then added, "Would you mind driving me to the graveyard later? I'd like to..."

Her words trailed off, and Jaye regarded her gently. "Say good-bye?"

The other woman just nodded and, head lowered, busied herself at the sink.

"Just let me know whenever you're ready to go," Jaye said softly before turning away to allow her new friend the privacy of her grief.

Leaving Lindsay to tidy up the kitchen, Jaye returned to her room to grab fresh clothes before she showered. Once cleaned up, she toured the exterior of the house to confirm her initial impression that Stu's arson attempt had done little real damage. Daylight showed that part of the woodpile had been destroyed and the adjacent wall was smoke damaged, but the integrity of the building itself hadn't been undermined. Satisfied, she made a mental note to clean up the affected area later, and made her way inside to the small den which had served as her aunt's office.

Seating herself on the creaking wooden swivel chair in front of the ancient roll top, Jaye smiled at a childhood memory of spinning circles in her aunt's chair until she was dizzy. She pushed off and spun once around in homage before settling in to examine her aunt's record keeping. Luckily, Delia had been a meticulous accountant, and all the household expenses and receipts were carefully filed. A large, old, brown ledger recorded each item through the years in progressively shakier script. The evidence of her aunt's increasing debilitation saddened the Canadian, but she knew if asked, Delia would have dismissed any such sentiments. The older woman had enjoyed her life to the fullest, and even severe arthritis hadn't dampened that pleasure.

Looking for the tax records, Jaye pulled open a lower drawer and paused when she saw a metal lockbox inside. Wondering what her aunt had considered valuable enough to consign to lock and key, she pulled out the box and set it on the desk. The dull and dented metal spoke of its age, and although she couldn't see a key anywhere, the lock quickly yielded to persistent prying with a letter opener.

Seeing an assortment of ribbon bound letters and old photographs, Jaye shuffled through the contents curiously. Pulling a letter out at random, she saw it was addressed to her aunt at the Lake Sivert summer house. Checking the postmark, she was surprised to see the letter was over forty years old.

Ignoring a twinge of conscience, Jaye pulled three sheets of brittle paper out of the envelope. Smoothing them open carefully, she scanned the pages. A smile spread over her face as she realized that she was reading a love letter.

"Why, Auntie Dee, you old dog! So you did have a chequered past after all." Jaye chuckled as one eyebrow shot up at a particularly provocative passage. Curious to see who the mystery man was, she flipped through the pages to the final passage.

My darling Delia, I know the world will never understand the love between us, and I pray that I may find the strength to stand firm and claim my place beside you. Know that whatever happens, I will always love you with everything that I am. Beloved, wait for me, for I will come to you when I can.

Forever yours,
Patricia

Jaye's mouth dropped open and she stared at the signature, unquestionably a woman's elegant cursive. Delia's mystery lover was a woman! Stunned, she dropped the letter and fumbled for another. Pawing frantically through letter after letter, she realized that they were all from Patricia, and all proclaimed without equivocation, the romantic attachment between the two.

"Find everything that you were looking for?"

The casual question from the doorway caused Jaye to jerk and whirl about. "Did you know that my aunt was a lesbian?"

Lindsay flinched at the harsh accusatory tone, but nodded. "Yes, I did."

"I can't believe this!" Jaye threw the letter she'd been holding atop the pile on the desk. Standing, she paced angrily. "I bloody well can't believe this!"

Lindsay edged by her and gingerly picked up one of the letters. The soft smile that came over her face when she read the contents irrationally infuriated Jaye, and she snatched the papers out of the other woman's hand. Shaking the crumpled letter in Lindsay's face, she snarled, "Is that why she thought you walked on water?"

Obviously shaken, Lindsay stood her ground. "We were never lovers, if that's what you mean."

Her quiet words calmed the angry woman slightly, and somewhat shamefaced, Jaye mumbled an apology. "Sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you." Still reeling, she blurted, "How did you know?"

Lindsay regarded her steadily, obviously considering what to say. Finally she said, "I found Delia's ad for a companion-assistant in The Rainbow's End." When Jaye stared at her blankly, she sighed and clarified, "It's a national gay magazine."

"Uh, so then you're..." Jaye stumbled over the words.

With a wry smile, Lindsay nodded. "Gay, yes."

Stunned at the unreasonable jealousy and sense of betrayal that swept over her, Jaye spun and stomped out of the room. Blindly, she grabbed her jacket and keys from her bedroom and rushed out of the house. Driving in an emotional maelstrom, she found herself on the highway out of town heading north. Without a conscious decision, she'd taken the route leading her back to Toronto.

"Running away, Eeyore?"

Jaye started violently, then scowled at her aunt's ghost in the passenger seat.

"Go away!"

Delia's voice was sad but determined. "Can't do that."

Pointedly ignoring her aunt, Jaye focused fiercely on the road, pushing Henri well past the speed limit.

"Dolan's got a speed trap about five miles up. You might want to slow down to a sane speed."

Jaye glared at Delia, who just shrugged. "I'm already dead, J-mac, but I'd hate to see you join me before your time."

Sucking in a deep breath, Jaye forced her foot to ease off the gas pedal.

"So what's got your knickers in a knot? The fact that I had a past, the fact that it was with a woman, or the fact that I never told you about it?"

Her aunt's voice was neutral, but the Canadian was stung by the implication of juvenile behaviour. Rather than answering directly, she asked, "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Delia sighed heavily. "Because part of the conditions your father imposed for allowing me to stay in your life was that I never mention anything 'improper' in your presence, and my youthful indiscretions were most assuredly considered off-limits in his estimation."

Jaye considered that silently. It did explain a lot of things: her father's dislike of her aunt, his reluctance every summer to send her back to Tucker's Way, and his rigid insistence on her church attendance when she returned to Canada. "Okay," she admitted slowly, "I can see that, but why didn't you tell me after I'd grown up? He couldn't have kept us apart then."

"He had you for ten months of every year. I had you for two. I wasn't sure how much he'd indoctrinated you to his way of seeing things, and I didn't want to take the chance of alienating you, particularly as it was irrelevant to my life by then."

Sneaking a glance at her aunt, Jaye muttered, "I'm not prejudiced, you know."

"Could've fooled me by the way you were behaving back there."

Delia's sharp words stung. "I...I was just...I dunno, confused, I guess. I mean you told her, and you never told me." Jaye knew that she sounded plaintive, even to her own ears, and she ducked her head in embarrassment.

"Silly old Eeyore." Her aunt's words were affectionate, even as they softly chided her. "Considering that Lindsay and I initially connected because we're both gay, doesn't it make sense that we knew these things about each other? It doesn't mean I loved you one bit less. Don't you know that you were the daughter I never had, especially after your mother died?"

Jaye squirmed a little in chagrin, trying for the first time to understand the source of her jealousy and anger. Was it truly that she was hurt because Delia had never told her, or did it have more to do with what she imagined Delia and Lindsay's relationship to be? "You two really weren't involved?"

"Lindsay and I?" Delia's surprise was evident. "Good heavens, no, child. She's just a baby, for crying out loud."

Not really. Jaye's wry thought was accompanied by a mental image of the woman she'd abandoned in such haste, but she forced her mind out of that path at her aunt's pensive follow-up.

"I lost my heart long ago, J-mac, and I never took it back."

"Patricia?"

"Patricia."

Hesitantly, Jaye asked, "Did my mother know about you and your..." She stumbled, not sure what to term the unknown woman from her aunt's past.

"Lover. Yes, your mother knew. Patricia had been our best friend since we were all little girls together, and Andi loved her just about as much as she loved me."

Delia's voice had grown soft and when Jaye glanced over at her, the older woman's faraway gaze was lost in a distant past. However, before Jaye could ask the rest of the questions that were bubbling over in her mind, Delia changed the subject.

"Are you done running, yet? 'Cause there's a very special woman whose feelings you hurt pretty badly, and you've got an apology to make."

Jaye began to decelerate and pulled Henri over to the side of the road. Glancing at her aunt, she admitted, "Guess I do at that."

"Good." With that one terse word, Delia popped out, and left Jaye shaking her head in exasperation. She had so many things she wanted to ask her aunt, but she obviously wasn't going to be afforded the opportunity right now.

********************************************

Lindsay sat in the old wooden chair, her fingers resting on the lockbox and her mind a thousand miles away. The redhead was deeply shaken by the realization that such an extreme reaction from Delia's niece meant that her own long-term fascination with the woman was severely misplaced. She couldn't believe that anyone who had grown up with Delia's influence in her life could have turned out as a raging homophobe, but she didn't know what other interpretation to put on the woman's angry words and abrupt departure.

Trembling hands had tidied up the mess Jaye left, carefully folding letters back into their envelopes and organizing them by postmark dates before stacking them back into the metal box. Part of her mind noted that the most recent postmarks were only weeks old, but she was too disturbed to follow up on the thought.

"I'm an idiot."

It was Lindsay's turn to spin slowly at the words and regard the chagrined woman standing in the doorway. Silently she watched the Canadian squirm under her steady gaze.

"I shouldn't have run out, and I apologize. I never meant to...I mean, I'm not...I just wasn't expecting that," she nodded at the lockbox, "and I overreacted. I really am sorry, Lindsay."

It wasn't a polished apology, but as far as Lindsay could tell, it was genuine. The redhead nodded neutrally. "All right." Having been burned once, she was determined to maintain enough distance not to let it happen again. When she didn't say anything more, Jaye sidled into the room and gingerly took a chair beside the desk.

"So, um, are you okay?"

Lindsay shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be? It's not like I've never dealt with bigotry before." It was a well-aimed shot, and she could actually see Jaye flinch at the blunt words. Instead of making her feel better however, she simply felt tired and drained.

"I'm not..." Jaye stopped and sighed. "Look, I understand why you'd think that, but it really wasn't that Auntie Dee was involved with a woman; it was that I didn't know anything about that part of her life. I mean, she obviously cherished this woman enough to have kept her letters all these years, yet she never said one thing about her to me."

"Your father..."

"I know. She explained that."

Lindsay stared in surprise. "She explained that?"

"Oh shit!" Jaye had a distinct deer in the headlights look. "I mean, I guessed that...that my dad probably censored what she could tell me."

Frowning, the other woman accepted the ad-lib, but she didn't miss how nervously Jaye was avoiding her eyes. Finding no reasonable explanation other than perhaps remorse over her abrupt departure and angry words, Lindsay allowed the matter to drop.

"So, what've you got there?" Jaye nodded her head at the old photographs under Lindsay's hand that she hadn't gotten around to replacing in the lock box.

"I'm not sure. Pictures of Delia and this Patricia, I guess. I haven't really looked through them." Fanning the photographs across the desktop, Lindsay looked closer at them, smiling when she saw a young Delia with a tall, slender blonde woman in most of the photos, and a third woman, unmistakably Delia's twin and Jaye's mother, also included. Many of the pictures were taken in outdoor locales: picnicking, in a boat, at a fair; but the most striking one had been taken in a lakeside gazebo.

The blonde woman was leaning against one of the upright wooden columns. The light of an afternoon sun illuminated her face and shone off her pale hair. The expression on her face left no doubt that she was enchanted with the photographer, as the camera had caught her eyes soft with love and her lips parted as if waiting for the kiss she knew would soon come.

Staring at the photo, Lindsay murmured, "I know this woman."

"You do?" Jaye gently took the picture from her grasp and examined it. "She certainly was beautiful, but then Mom and Auntie Dee were pretty good looking themselves."

Lindsay focused on the picture now in Jaye's long fingers, trying to clear her mind and picture the woman as she might look now. Suddenly, as if a fog lifted, the pieces fell into place.

"Oh my God, she was here!" Excitedly, Lindsay tapped the picture. "She was right here in this house not four months ago!"

"Patricia was here?" Jaye's surprise was evident. "When? What happened? What did Delia say?"

Controversy forgotten, Lindsay turned to the other woman eagerly. "It was at the beginning of the summer. I remember, because we were concerned about a late frost affecting the seedlings in the garden. We were out looking them over when a big car pulled up out front. We weren't expecting anyone, so both of us were curious. We went out to greet our visitors, and a man in his early forties and an older woman, about Dee's age, got out. For a moment, I thought Delia was having a dizzy spell because she kind of swayed. I put an arm around her, but she shook me off and walked up to the pair. It was obvious that she and the woman knew each other. They greeted each other stiffly, but with familiarity."

Jaye had been following the narrative avidly, leaning forward until her knees were almost touching Lindsay's. "So, was it Patricia?"

Lindsay nodded. "Uh huh. And the man was her son, Gareth Edwards, Jr." She curled up her lip in distaste and Jaye chuckled.

"Not one of your favourite people, I take it?"

"He was a jerk. He monopolized the conversation through the whole visit, couldn't stop talking about his political ambitions and the fact that he had his whole career plotted out, and that powerful backers were already talking about his future in the Oval Office."

"But what did Delia and Patricia say to each other?"

"Not a lot. Like I said, Gareth pretty much monopolized the whole conversation. I could tell Delia was irritated because he cut her off every time she tried to talk to his mother, and he was terribly condescending to both women."

"And you?"

Lindsay gave a wry grin. "Me he treated like the hired help." She closed her eyes, trying to recall details of that late spring day. "You know, when they left, I asked Delia who Patricia was. I remember her looking very sad as she told me, "An old friend." Then she went to her bedroom and didn't come back out until the next day."

"Wow. So Patricia came back into her life after all these years," Jaye mused out loud. "I wonder if they stayed in touch after that."

Lindsay's eyes widened, and she turned to the letters she had stacked back in the lockbox. Shuffling through the envelopes, she extracted a handful. "These are postmarked from this summer. They must have started writing after that visit."

She handed the letters to the other woman, who hesitated before carefully opening the earliest one and reading it. Lindsay was surprised to see tears gather in blue eyes as Jaye perused the pages.

"Jaye?"

The other woman looked up at her and gestured with the letter. "Patricia was apologizing for not being strong enough, for allowing her mother to force her into marriage rather than running away with my aunt as they had planned to all those years ago. She says she'd never stopped loving her, and finally had to see her again. She asks forgiveness if she's upset Delia's life, but prays that they can be friends again."

Lindsay found her own eyes suspiciously moist as she thought about her friend losing her beloved and retreating to Tucker's Way for the rest of her life. "Do you think they might have gotten back together again?"

"Well, she says in here that her husband died four months ago, so there wouldn't have been any impediment to it."

"Except for Gareth." Lindsay felt a sour taste in her mouth at the memory of the obnoxious, overweening would-be politician. "I doubt he'd react happily to the thought of his mother coming out and living openly with her female lover."

The same thought struck both women at the same time.

"You don't think..."

"What about..."

"Gareth?" they chimed together.

"But last night, Stu implicated Mary and Derek," Lindsay protested unconvincingly.

Jaye shook her head. "Yeah, but Stu had reason to hate both of them, so I'm not sure we can accept him at his word."

"So, where do we go from here?"

The Canadian thoughtfully tapped the return address on the envelope she held. "Well, we know where Patricia lives." Her eyes troubled, she continued. "We really should let her know about Delia's death if she hasn't heard; and maybe talking to her will give us some indication if Gareth was even aware of the connection between his mother and my aunt."

Lindsay nodded absently. Something was niggling at the back of her mind, something related to the neat stack of letters in the lockbox. Suddenly the picture came into focus. "There's another one!"

Jaye glanced up from the second recent letter she'd begun reading. "Huh? Another what?"

Excitedly the other woman explained. "Another letter! The day Delia died, we picked up the mail as we headed into town. I remember her taking an envelope out of the stack and slipping it into her purse with a curious little smile. I just assumed it was something she wanted to read later in private, but I'll bet you anything it was a letter from Patricia!"

Blue eyes crackled with excitement. "I'll bet you're right! Do you know where it is now?"

"If Delia never took it out of her purse, then it must be with her personal effects. Did they turn those over to you at the funeral home?"

Jaye shook her head. "It's more likely they've got them locked up as evidence."

"Then let's go sweet talk our way into the evidence room." Lindsay noted the raised eyebrow that got her. "What? You don't think we can sweet talk the sheriff?"

"I'd think we'd have a better chance sweet talking a mongoose out of his snake dinner," Jaye muttered as she tossed the envelopes back onto the desk and rose to follow her companion.

Hearing Delia's old maxim from her niece's mouth somehow gave Lindsay a tentative reassurance that they would be able to work together despite the earlier hitch. But as she led the way out of the room, she couldn't repress a tiny sigh for unborn dreams.

Continued in Chapter 15

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