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“I know you are.”

“And I need to apologize to Jude. I was kind of rude to him when he was just trying to tell me the truth.”

Now her eyes twinkled, just the slightest bit. “That’s also probably wise.”

We were both quiet for a moment. I put the damp napkin in the pocket of my robe and reached for the green tea. By that point, it had cooled down enough that it was drinkable enough, so I helped myself to a couple of swallows.

That was better. Just past the curtains, I could see the sky beginning to brighten.

“Hazel,” I said. “Do you remember anything else about the last few weeks before you died? Is there anything that’s come back to you?”

She looked out the window at the first hints of golden light creeping across the quiet street. “I remember Frank coming over, and I remember him being agitated. I know I said that he needed to do what his conscience told him. And I remember him leaving.” A pause, her gaze still distant, fixed on something neither of us could see. “And I remember thinking after he left that I needed to write something down. I went into the library, and I sat at the desk and wrote that final entry in my journal…something is different. But I don’t know what was different. I sat there with the pen in my hand, and I somehow couldn’t get it down on the page. So I closed the journal and went into the kitchen to make myself tea, and the next thing I remember is opening my eyes and seeing my body on the bed.”

It was the same for all of them — the moment of dying stayed locked away, no matter who they’d been. What set Mack apart wasn’t memory but attention. A hundred years of watching, on top of whatever the Prohibition unit had drilled into him, meant he missed very little of what happened in front of him now. It just hadn’t been enough to put a face to a figure in a hood.

“Hazel,” I said at length. “Did Frank tell you anything that night that he hadn’t told you before?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “The details are gone.”

“But it’s possible,” I pressed.

“It’s possible.”

Again, I sat in silence, thinking. Great-Aunt Hazel might have been killed because Father Frank had finally told her something that someone couldn’t risk her knowing. Or she could have died of natural causes. There was no way to know for sure, because there hadn’t been an autopsy. In general, you didn’t perform an autopsy on a ninety-five-year-old woman who’d died in her sleep. Most people would have said they just hoped they could go in a similarly peaceful manner.

“I’m going to find out who did this,” I said at last. “I’m going to find out for Frank…and for you, if it turns out someone caused your death. I need to know.”

“I think you will,” Hazel said.

She didn’t disappear, but remained standing there as the kitchen gradually grew lighter and the world outside the windows began to wake up.

When it was fully awake, I’d get back to work.

Chapter 15

Telling the Truth

A hot shower helped some, and so did taking my usual care with my hair and makeup, getting out the hot rollers so I’d have the requisite pinup waves lying loose on my shoulders, then the eyelash curler and my favorite Benefit mascara and all the other things I used to put on what I supposed was a form of armor. Or maybe it was its own form of art, or just simple self-expression.

I left the house, today wearing a pencil skirt and one of Hazel’s beaded black sweaters and my kitten heels. They’d already proved themselves worthy of a long shift at Copper State Cellars, and flats just wouldn’t work with that outfit.

The bar wasn’t my first destination, though.

I got to Marsh & Hollow right at eleven, when I knew Jude would be opening up, since the bookshop opened an hour later on Sundays than it did the rest of the week. As far as I’d been able to tell, he didn’t seem to take any days off.

His gaze caught mine, and he didn’t say anything, only opened the door and let me in, then closed it behind me. Still in silence, he went over to the counter and set down his keys.

“I came to apologize,” I said in a rush. Apologies never came easily to me, so I knew I needed to get this out quickly before I lost my nerve. “You were right. I needed to hear what you were trying to tell me, and I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

The neutral expression he’d been wearing softened into something much more welcoming. “And I’m sorry I got all priestly on you.”

“I think you can be forgiven for that.”

A hint of a smile played around the corners of his mouth. “Tea?”

“Please,” I replied. I’d already had a cup of coffee at home, but having some tea wouldn’t kill me, and I probably needed the extra caffeine after getting so little sleep the night before.

We both went into the back room. Flannery saw that Jude was making tea and lost interest, going back out to the main part of the bookstore to keep up her usual watch by the counter in case any customers came in.