“Okay. Kind of the truth. Makes sense. Got it.” We walked up the concrete path to the house, then turned leftbefore the stoop and headed around the side. Definitely no sign anyone had been here recently.
“When was that spike in the power bill?” I asked, quietly in case any of the neighbors had their ears pricked through open windows.
“A week before Emily died,” he said in the same low tone.
“So, it could have been her,” I said.
“Could have. Or it could have been someone looking for her.”
A shiver went down my spine. I didn’t like that option.
“What are y’all doing walkin’ all over the Greens’ house?” The voice cut into the quiet, her Southern accent strong, her tone curious but sharp. A woman in a hot pink housecoat and hair so flaming red it could only have come out of a bottle marched across the neighboring lawn toward us.
She’d said the Greens’ house, not the Shaws’. I filed that away to ask about later. Eli didn’t seem thrown by the change of name.
“Emily said it might be available to rent,” he answered smoothly. “We’re thinking about moving to town, thought we’d stop by.”
“I’ll tell you like I told the man who came by already—I don’t know what the girl’s going to do with the house, but it’s not available to rent as far as I know.”
I kept my expression neutral and let Eli do the talking for now. Obviously, we needed to find out who the man was.
“How do you know?” Eli asked easily. “Did Emily tell you?”
“She was back here a few months ago and never said athing.” The woman set her hands on her hips and looked us up and down. “You said you’re friends of hers?”
“Did you talk to her when she was here?” I asked, guessing that this neighbor did not know Emily Shaw was deceased. “Did she tell you she wasn’t renting it out?” I shifted to face Eli and tugged on his arm, playing into the part. “I thought Emily said she definitely wanted to rent it to us. Do you think somebody else might get the house, honey?” Looking back at the neighbor, I added, “Someone was here asking about it? When?”
Eli slung an arm around me, smiling down indulgently. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll talk to Emily. And if this one doesn’t work out, if you really want to move here, we’ll find something.”
“I’m telling you,” the neighbor cut in, “I know everything that goes on in this street. All these years they’ve never rented the house, just keep it maintained. Don’t know why Emily didn’t just sell it after her parents moved,” she grumbled to herself, pulling a cigarette from the pack in her housecoat pocket and lighting it. “She never comes back, just has the lawn mowed, weeds trimmed. Someone walks through once a month to make sure there’s no leaks, and that’s it. Just sits there getting older.”
“Did you talk to her when she was here a few months ago?” I asked again.
“Meant to, but I got distracted getting supper started. And when I had a minute free, she was pulling away. Squealed the tires like she couldn’t get out of here fast enough.” The neighbor shook her head, wisps of red hair drifting through the tip of her cigarette, the scent of burnt hair invading my nose.
Had Emily found something here?
“How long was she here?” I asked, then looked up atEli. “I thought she was getting the house ready to rent.” I put a little whine in my voice, as if I was annoyed that the thing I wanted might be out of reach.
“I doubt it,” the woman said after a long drag on her cigarette. “She was in and out in less than an hour. Thought she was still living in Virginia, but that’s a long way to come to only stay an hour.”
“Are you sure it was Emily you saw?” Eli asked, not mentioning that Emily no longer lived in Virginia, but had moved to Knoxville.
“Of course,” she said, lifting her chin, eyes wide with affront. “It’s been years, but I’ve known that girl most of her life. Same dark hair, same eyebrows. It was her.”
“Well, that is weird,” Eli said. “I wonder why she would have told us it was available to rent. Who was the man who came by? When was he here?”
The woman studied Eli and me. I leaned into his side, trying to sell the young couple looking for a rental story. She gave a nod as if she’d decided something and said, “It was a few weeks ago. Didn’t recognize him. He was around my age.” I guessed mid-sixties. “A little stocky, bald spot up here.” She gestured to the top of her head. “Saw it when he took off his cap.”
“Facial hair?” Eli asked, a little too abruptly to fit with our story. But the woman didn’t notice.
“Mustache,” she said. “Short one.”
That seemed to mean something to Eli. I was dying to know, but now wasn’t the time to push.
“He was interested in the house?” I asked.
“Had a lot of questions,” she said. “Just like you. Doesn’t matter if he was interested. I’m telling you, the house can’t be up for rent. Word would have gotten around if she was putting it up for rent.”
