Sara gave the phone back to Jack, her eyes wide. “Wow. Not insurance but computers.”
“Bet he’d know how to send messages from Kate’s phone to mine.”
“He told us a flat-out lie.” Sara’s head came up. “But why would he be afteryou? Did you wink at Rachel, his great love? The woman he returned here for?”
“The woman he doesn’t seem to realize is missing? That one?”
“He said she dumped him.”
“And he took it well?” Jack asked. “No anger? No declarations that he’d waited for her for years so she owed him?”
“Maybe—” Sara began, but the door to the house opened and Lenny stepped outside.
He looked at Sara. “You need to come in here.”
Sara nodded. “So who is going off the rails this time? Barbara at her late husband for forgetting that the camera was on? Or is it Gil? He’s probably angry and ready to fight to defend his new girlfriend. Or maybe Lea finally confessed to murdering her husband.”
Lenny may have rolled his eyes but the state of his scarred face made that expression undetectable. “Your brother can’t open the safe.”
Sara gasped. “Thisisan emergency.” She took off running, with Jack behind her.
When they got upstairs, they saw that only Randal was in the Palm Room. He had removed the painting by the Brazilian artist to expose a small safe set in the wall. He was diligently working at the combination lock. Sara had seen that look of concentration many times. When Randal was a child, it meant he’d taken something that wasn’t his.
“So how’d you find it?” she asked. “By sniffing it out or did you use telepathic connections?”
He was unperturbed by her snide remark. “People in glass houses...” He glanced at his sister. “I think you should tell us about your dreams. Not the short, comic book version, but the complete story, especially the parts you’re hiding.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in my dreams.”
“With you, my darling sister, I’d believe anything.”
With a sigh of frustration, Randal stepped back from the locked safe.
“Can’t do it?” Sara asked.
“It’s not the same as opening a door lock. There are thousands of possible combinations. I need some specialized tools.”
Sara had a flash of memory. She seemed to see Alish’s forearm. “Try 4 12 44,” she said softly.
Randal gave his sister a look, then deftly twisted the dial. The safe opened.
“What the hell?!” Jack said. “You need to explain where you got that number.”
“It’s a date,” Randal said, “and my sister knows much more than she’s told us.” He reached inside the safe, pulled out a VHS tape, and handed it to Jack.
“A Wrongful Death,” Jack read off the label.
Instantly, Sara did an internet search of the movie title and scan-read it aloud. “Uh... ‘Back then it was called porn and couldn’t be shown to the public. Mild by today’s standards. Two men were in love with each other. Movie doesn’t show sex, but hints at it.’ Here’s the important part. The plot. ‘The victim confided a crime he committed and the lover wrote it as a screenplay, meaning that the world would be told what he’d done.’ Hmmm,” Sara said. “Wonder what crime it was. Anyway, there was a fight and the actor was stabbed with a kitchen knife.” She looked back at the article. “‘Because of what was, at the time, an illegal relationship, there wasn’t much publicity about the case, and only a rudimentary investigation.’” She looked up at them. “The killer was never caught.”
“Credits?” Jack asked.
Sara smiled. “Harry Adair. Director, producer, writer, and he acted in the role of the landlord. It looks like we have a movie showing the motive for the murder. A fight over a crime being revealed. But then, how could Harry resist writing a good story? He should probably have done a book first, then a script. That would get double royalties. He—”
Jack spoke up. “I wonder if Barbara issureher husband wasn’t here at Lachlan House back then. Maybe he sneaked in, killed ol’ Oliver, then sneaked back out.”
“And took the brain and his saw rolled up in the turtle rug when he left?” Sara asked. “I like it.”
Randal gave a snort. “That night this house was full of people sneaking around. But no one saw anything or anyone unusual?” He had pulled out an envelope full of old newspaper clippings and was flipping through them. He turned to his sister. “Where did you get that date for the combination?”
