But the lightness didn't last long. It struck her suddenly how exhausting it was to try to find out who had motive, who had opportunity, and who had the means. A number of people had one or two of those things, but so far, no one had all three. And even if they did find someone, what then? What did it mean to discover that someone you knew, someone you'd smiled at in the grocery store or sat next to in church, was capable of murder?
"Hey," Barb said softly, clearly seeing the shift in Sara Lee's expression. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I just..." Sara Lee set down her coffee, suddenly needing to be somewhere else. "I'm worried about Nana June. She's been so focused on finding answers, but what's this doing to her? She's seventy-fiveyears old. She found a dead body. She's been talking to people about murder for days. She always seems so in control, but I haven’t really asked her how she’s feeling."
The realization hit hard. Sara Lee had been so caught up in the mystery, in the clues and suspects and timelines, that she hadn't stopped to think about the emotional toll it was taking on her grandmother.
Barb squeezed her hand again. "Then go. Go check on her. There will be more coffee and lemon bars tomorrow."
Sara Lee stood, pulling out her wallet, but Barb waved her away. "On the house. Just go take care of Ms. June. And yourself."
"Thank you," Sara Lee said, meaning it for more than just the coffee as she shoved the money into the tip jar. "For listening. For understanding. For being you."
"Always," Barb said with a warm smile. "That's what best friends are for."
Sara Lee grabbed her bag and headed for the door. She needed to make sure her grandmother was okay. That they were both okay. Because solving a murder was one thing, but losing yourself in the process was quite another.
The bell chimed as she left the coffee shop, and Sara Lee hurried down the familiar streets toward home, where Nana June was probably sitting in her study with Mister Smee, making notes in her careful handwriting, carrying the weight of their investigation on her capable but aging shoulders.
It was time to make sure they were taking care ofeach other while they searched for the truth. Time to remember that some things, like family, love, and the bond between a grandmother and granddaughter, mattered more than any mystery ever could.
26
JUNE
June sat in her favorite reading chair in the study, a book open on her lap, but the pages blurred before her eyes. She had stared at the same paragraph for ten minutes, the words refusing to form coherent meaning. Her mind was elsewhere… wandering through suspects, motives, opportunities, the note, the pentobarbital stolen from Carl's clinic.
She seemed lost in thought, trapped in the maze of her own investigation.
The front door opened, and Sara Lee's footsteps sounded in the hallway. June smiled at the quick, light, familiar steps. She looked up as her granddaughter entered the room, cheeks flushed from her walk, her canvas bag slung over one shoulder.
"How was your chat with Barb?" June asked, closing the book with a soft thump. Truth be told, she was grateful for the interruption. Her thoughts had been going in circles, getting nowhere.
"It was good. I really needed that." Sara Lee sat on the sofa, then leaned forward and held June's gaze. "But it got me thinking."
June set the book aside completely, giving Sara Lee her full attention. "About what, sweetheart?"
Sara Lee’s hands clasped tightly together in her lap. "It’s… what we're doing. I realized that there is an emotional toll to all this investigating."
Her voice carried a weight June hadn't heard before. It didn’t sound like fear, but more awareness perhaps. A kind of weariness that came from looking too closely at the darkness people could carry.
Then Sara Lee rushed on. "Don't misunderstand me, Nana June. It's fascinating. But…” her shoulders hefted. “Well, kind of exhausting. And I just wondered how you were doing with that side of everything."
June felt something warm bloom in her chest. Here was her granddaughter, worried about her. It was sweet. It was also unnecessary, but June understood the concern behind it.
She smiled and nodded. “You know, I've been thinking about Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple, actually. Obviously, she was a fictional character, but Ms. Christie put real, human emotions into her characters. And I wonder how Miss Marple must have felt, sitting in her village, knitting and watching, knowing that beneath the pleasant surfaces, people carried secrets dark enough to kill for. It must have been lonely sometimes, knowing what she knew."
Sara Lee nodded slowly, understanding flickering in her eyes.
"But you see," June continued, leaning forward slightly, "I believe in what we can learn. The police are well-versed in investigations, but they can be trapped by legalities, which are important and necessary. But the innocent people who are suspects need to have their stories told. And those who might not be innocent need to feel comfortable enough to let their guilt loose. Not everything can be discovered in searches and interrogation room inquisitions.”
"It's important, isn't it?" Sara Lee asked quietly. “What we’re doing.”
"I think so, but I would never push you to do anything you didn't want to do?—"
"Oh, no, Nana June," Sara Lee interrupted, her voice urgent as she hurried over to kneel next to her grandmother. Her hands clasped in a warm and strong grasp. "I love what we're doing. And I love doing it with you."
Just then, Pippi stood from where she'd been sleeping on her bed, her nap disturbed by the intensity of their conversation. The little dog stretched elaborately, her front paws forward, her head dipping down in that downward-dog position that always made June smile. Then she shook herself, ears flapping, and padded over to investigate what the humans were so worked up about.
