"We learn more. We talk to people. Very carefullyand very casually." June began organizing her thoughts into a plan. "And then we’ll slowly begin to connect the dots. I think I'll talk to Ted tomorrow. He will have knowledge that exceeds mine when it comes to the Melton boys."
Sara Lee's anxiety and excitement were both visible on her face. "We're really investigating a murder."
"We're investigating a death," June corrected gently but firmly. "Whether it's murder or not, we won't know until we dig deeper. But yes, we're investigating."
She returned to her desk and began writing in her neat, precise handwriting at the top of a fresh page.Raymond Melton - June 1st.
Below that, she created columns with clear headers, including names, motives, and opportunity. And lastly, a column for her own observations.
She began listing everyone who had confrontations with Raymond, adding what they knew about each person.
"We need more information on all of them," June said, her librarian's instinct for research taking over. "Background, connections to Raymond. And we need to find out what was on that torn newspaper in his pocket."
"How?" Sara Lee asked.
"We start tomorrow. We observe. We listen. We ask innocent questions that might reveal not-so-innocent answers." June looked at her granddaughter seriously. "This has to be careful, methodical work.”
They spent another hour planning their approach, deciding who to talk to first and how to gatherinformation without arousing suspicion. June had always been good at getting others to open up, at asking the right questions in the right way. And as a teacher, Sara Lee had a great understanding of people and their emotions.
“I can talk to Barb,” Sara Lee volunteered, then sighed. “It’ll seem weird, but I’ll do it.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” June agreed. “And maybe it will be good for Barb to have someone to talk to.”
By the time they finished, the sun had set, and the study had grown dark. June switched on a lamp, casting warm light over the bookshelves.
“Our clue-review lasted a long time today,” Sara Lee commented, standing and stretching her arms over her head.
June nodded as she also stood, a little slower and with less vigor.
Mister Smee, no longer able to sleep in a sunspot, moved to the small settee and curled up, purring contentedly, as if solving mysteries was the most natural thing in the world. June smiled at him fondly. Perhaps for a library cat, solving mysteries is natural. Or maybe just coincidental. June kept an open mind when it came to Mister Smee’s instincts.
Pippi lifted her head from her cushion on the floor, looked at the other occupants of the room as if checking that everyone was accounted for, then lay her head back down with a contented sigh.
"I hope we can do some good," Sara Lee said quietly.
June reached over and squeezed Sara Lee's hand, feeling the warmth of connection, the bond betweenthem that had only strengthened since they'd lost Sara Lee's parents. "We'll search for the truth, sweetheart. Wherever it leads. And we'll do it together."
As they headed to bed that night, June felt different from the way she had that morning. The horror of finding Raymond's body was still there. That image would stay with her, she knew. But it had been joined by purpose, determination, and the satisfaction of having a clear path forward.
Someone in Meadowlark Creek might have committed murder. But many others had suffered Raymond's cruelty and hadn't acted on their anger. They deserved understanding, not suspicion.
June changed into her pajamas and sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Mister Smee jumped up and curled at her feet. He generally divided his nighttime routine between her and Sara Lee’s bed, and tonight she was glad for his purring comfort.
Her mind ran through the list of suspects they compiled. Judge Melton with his inheritance motive. Lucy’s anger. Helena and whatever secrets Raymond had held over her. Jerry, with decades of resentment over ethnic slurs. Bob and his business problems. Diane and that look of unexplained terror on her face.
Any of them could have had reason to want Raymond dead.
But as Agatha Christie had written,Very few of us are what we seem. Tomorrow, they would start finding out who was hiding what. And which secret was worth killing for.
June lay down, pulling the covers up, hearing Pippi’s toenails clicking on the wooden floor as he wandered into her room. Through the wall, she could hear Sara Lee moving around in her room, probably still too keyed up to sleep.
They would both need rest, and June would need all her wits about her.
But for now, she let her mind wander through possibilities, through connections, through the accumulated knowledge from all her years of watching people, understanding them, seeing beneath their surfaces to the truths they tried to hide. But June had spent a lifetime learning to read people as carefully as she read books. And she would use that skill now to find the truth about Raymond's death.
Whatever that truth turned out to be.
9
