"You know what I'm asking," Jack said evenly. "Did you go kill Earl for what he did that day?"
Uncle Mike held Jack's gaze for a long time before he finally shook his head. "No. But I will confess to this: I would have if I could have. First, I had to be sure the girls were okay. Nobody wanted a doctor, but my friend in the truck with me had been a medic in the Army and he patched everybody up. Eleanor had hit her head on the steering wheel, but she was basically okay but for some swelling. He bound up Lorraine's ribs and checked both her and Ruby for concussions, prescribed rest and plenty of fluids, and then he walked the couple of miles down the road to his house."
"We had to hide in the house when Eleanor's parents came over to get her, so they didn't see our bruises and wonder what in the world was going on," Ruby said.
"Yeah, I remember her mom got hysterical at the sight of her daughter's bruised face, and her dad got hysterical at the sight of his bruised Buick," Uncle Mike said. "Anyway, by the time everyone was taken care of and I was planning to head out to find Earl, Beau called and told us he'd just taken the SOB to the bus station."
"And that he'd threatened to kill him if he ever came back to town," Lorraine said in a quiet voice. "But now we know that isn't the truth. So is everything Beau told us a lie? Did he really kill Earl?"
Jack looked around the room. "I think we need pie."
"You always think we need pie," I said.
"He's not wrong," Uncle Mike said.
"Come on. Pie and lemonade for everyone."
Jack and I went out to the kitchen and sliced up the apple and peach pies I had handy.
"Do you think Beau killed Earl?"
Jack poured lemonade into glasses and shook his head. "No. I mean, sure, he could have lied to me, but why would he hire me to find out 'what really happened' if what really happened is that he killed Earl?"
"Maybe to confuse the issue? To help him look innocent because people will think just that?"
"No. I don't buy it. He told me right upfront that he found Earl's dead body in Earl and Lorraine's apartment. And that he hid it, which is a crime all by itself. Why wouldn't he try to make up a story more favorable to himself? Blame somebody no longer alive, or the famous 'bushy-haired stranger,' or magic or, really, anything. No, I believe what Beau told me. And I believe what Ruby told us."
"So far, the only person who has lied to us is Nigel."
Jack gave me a grim look. "And the ledger was Nigel's. I don't think this is shaping up to be a great look for your ogre friend."
As we carried the pie and drinks out to the front room, a car came rumbling up the drive, horn blaring.
"What the heck?" I put the tray down on the coffee table and rushed over to the door, Jack on my heels. "Is that Granny Josephine?"
It was.
Josephine, who was so tiny she could barely see over her steering wheel, smashed on her brakes, gave the horn one long, final blast, and then rolled her window down and stuck her head out.
"Tess Callahan, you get out here right now! And bring that tiger with you!"
By this time, everybody was on their feet. I pushed the door open, and we all went outside and down to her car.
"Granny Josephine, what in the world—"
"Don’t you Granny Josephine me, Tess. I heard you and your boyfriend are looking into Earl Packard's death. I need to tell you right now that I didn't do it."
We stared down at all four feet, eleven inches of her.
"It honestly never occurred to me you might have," I said honestly.
She blinked behind the enormous lenses of her glasses. "Don't patronize me, girl. I could have done it. I'm a great shot."
With that, she turned to dig around in an enormous patchwork handbag sitting on the passenger seat next to her and then came up waving a huge pistol around.
"I'm telling you, I could have done it, but I didn't."
Jack, who I could tell had been trying valiantly to keep from laughing, moved so fast I almost didn't see his hand dart in and take the gun away from her.
