Vera made a face. “The what?”
“The Busybody Buddies. That’s what I call the old ladies who get together at every viewing and gossip about everyone but themselves. I swear it’s basically the same women every time.”
Maybe Vera didn’t need any friends close enough to know her secrets. “Was this Mila Davis willing to talk about whatever rumors she was privy to?”
“She is the rumor.”
“Oh.” Vera remembered then that Luna had said as much. “So what did she say?”
“To give you a little background,” Eve went on, “Mila is in her late fifties, and she’s never been married. She was willing to talk to me because she owed me a favor.”
Vera couldn’t help being curious. Eve was a mortician, after all. “What kind of favor?”
“I’d just started at Barrett’s when her mother died, and she was so upset, she didn’t want to leave her alone that night after the visitation. She wanted to stay near her. She and her mom were really close.”
Vera’s eyes bulged. “You didn’t let her stay overnight, did you?”
“We stayed together in the visitation room. Every hour or so—whenever she asked—I rolled Mrs. Davis out of cold storage so her daughter could see her.”
“Wow. Okay. You’re a really good person, Eve, and you’re right—she owed you big-time.” Vera would have suggested counseling to the woman, but thanks to Eve they had leverage for information. God, that sounded so cold. But it was a murder investigation, after all.
“Trenton Fanning is her boss. Has been for years. But he was also her childhood sweetheart. They were together all the way to graduation. Then when it was time to go off to college, Mila had to stay behind because her mother had a stroke. She took care of her from thatpoint forward while Trenton met someone else and got married and had a family.”
“How sad for Mila.” For Trenton too, considering he was married to Geneva.
“It gets better,” Eve assured her. “Two years ago Trenton was sure Geneva was having an affair. Mila let him cry on her shoulder, and the next thing she knew,theywere having an affair. They stopped a while back, but they still talk secretly.”
So the older woman at the accounting firm, Mila Davis, did have an affair—like Luna said. And the affair was with Trenton—not Leonard. Damn. This might be a small town, but these folks got around. “Did Mila have any idea who Geneva was cheating with?” The answer might not matter, but Vera was never one to let any possibility go without a look.
“Trenton was certain it was his cousin, Leonard Andrews.”
So Geneva had fooled around with her sister’s husband.
“That’s low.” Vera had an even worse opinion of the woman now, and that was saying something.
“I’ve heard others say Geneva was always jealous of her sister,” Eve went on. “Considering Geneva got the looks in the family, obviously the jealousy was about her sister’s husband.”
“Makes a twisted kind of sense,” Vera agreed.
“To make it worse,” Eve said, the volume of her voice in and out as if she had laid the phone down and was moving about, “two years ago would have been when Jackie had cancer that third time.”
“Damn. That is bottom-feeder level.” Geneva was a real lowlife. “Anything else?” Vera was dying to hear the attorney’s answers to her list of questions.
“Only that Mila would love to be your accountant if you haven’t chosen anyone since moving to Fayetteville.”
Oh, okay. Her taxes were about the furthest thing from her mind right now. “Thanks, Eve. I’ll keep her in mind. Talk later.”
Vera ended the call and climbed out of her SUV. The sooner she got this meeting done, the sooner she could move on to the next step for Luna.
Geneva Fanning was about to find out what happened when you messed with a Boyett sister.
The bell over the door tinkled as Vera entered the law office lobby. There was no one at the reception desk, but Kilgore himself promptly appeared from somewhere beyond the reception space.
“Hello, Mr. Kilgore. I’m Vera Boyett, a consultant with the Lincoln County Sheriff’s Department. I’m here for Sheriff Benton.”
“Yes, Myra called and said you were coming. Come on back to my office, Ms. Boyett.”
Vera followed him inside. After she’d taken the seat he offered, she opened the notes app on her phone. “I’m not recording,” she assured him. “Just taking notes.”
