Page 61 of Hard Heart

She giggled. “My husband says I watch too many of those true-crime shows.”

“There’s no such thing as too many true-crime shows,” Heidi said. “Did you see that three-part special on the Houston cannibal last week?”

“Yes! And to think he was living in a neighbourhood just like this one.” And then to me, “You should try Reba Sharp for August. She don’t got nothing better to do than look out the window all day, and she’s older than time. And Harold lives right opposite August’s old place. In the house with the Christmas decorations—you can’t miss it.”

“Christmas decorations? But we’re well into January.”

“He never takes them down. Says we need a little bit of cheer all year round.”

“Do you have Reba’s address?”

The brunette wrote it out for me. “Good luck. She isn’t fond of strangers, but tell her Maddy Parnell sent you, and she’ll let you in. August was a nice old guy. Whoever burned his home should be rotting in jail.”

Harold Snapes wasn’t home, and the neighbour who came out to challenge us didn’t know when he’d be back.

“You’re not with those environment kooks, are you?” she asked. “They tried turning the place into a shrine, flowers and rainbows everywhere. Sheriff Mullen had to run them out of town.”

“No, no, I’m with the Justice Project,” I assured her. “We review old cases to ensure the right people have been convicted.”

“But nobody got convicted over what happened to August.”

“His name came up in conjunction with another crime we believe might be connected.”

“Oh. Well, I still don’t know where Harold is. He might have gone to visit his sister.”

Great. We only had Bitsy and Reba left.

Professor Groveland’s dog was a tiny dachshund, nervous and yappy, but when I stood stock-still, he ventured forward to sniff my feet before backing away again.

“He’s never been the same since that night,” Bitsy explained. “If he smells smoke, he starts trembling. One time, I burned the toast and the alarm went off, and he bolted clean out the back door.”

Heidi crouched and made kissy noises. She was better at this PR stuff than I was, and the dog slunk closer to lick her hand.

“Poor little thing,” she said. “He must have been so scared. How old is he now?”

“Must be twelve or thirteen. He had a problem with his back, but Maddy Parnell ran a fundraiser and most of the neighbourhood chipped in for the veterinarian costs. Can I get you girls coffee? Or a glass of iced tea?”

Heidi answered for us. “Coffee would be great. We had a long drive.”

“Where are you from?” she asked as she waved us into a tiny kitchen that reeked of vanilla and mothballs.

“Richmond.”

“Good, good, we need an outsider to look at this.”

“I work for the Justice Project,” I explained yet again. “We⁠—”

“You should have gotten here five years ago. It’s too late now.”

“What do you mean, too late?”

“Robbie Mullen jumped in front of a semi on Route 15 four years ago. I heard he left a note, although his father made sure it never saw the light of day.”

Mullen…Mullen… Wait, Snapes’s neighbour had mentioned a Sheriff Mullen. Were they related?

“Robbie is the sheriff’s son?” I guessed.

“Then I see someone already mentioned him. How that man keeps getting elected to office is a mystery, honest to goodness it is. Nobody in Bishop’s Junction is voting for him, I can tell you that much.”