Mason smiled. “Yeah, that could have been awkward.”
“What about Aunt Sara? Did her name come up in any way in your program?”
“No. But Alice did offer up a couple of other low-probability suspects.”
“Who?”
“Quinn Colfax, for one.”
“Motive?”
“Jealousy. Quinn and Brinker were both in line to inherit their fathers’ financial fund empire, but it was clear to everyone—including Quinn, I’m sure—that Brinker would end up as the guy in charge. If that happened, sooner or later Quinn would have been eased out of the company altogether.”
“Think so?”
“Absolutely,” Mason said. “Brinker wouldn’t have wanted a partner. He would have found a way to get rid of Quinn.”
“Well, that didn’t happen, did it? Who was the other suspect?”
“Nolan Kelly.”
Lucy frowned. “That’s hard to imagine.”
“Not if you were aware that Nolan was the local go-to guy for pot and booze back in the day. He catered to the teen crowd.”
“Okay, I didn’t know that. Why would he have killed Brinker?”
“Where there are drugs, there are guns, and sometimes people wind up dead.” Mason drank some of his water and put the bottle down. “There were always rumors of drugs swirling around Brinker.”
“Do you think Nolan was Brinker’s connection?”
“For the pot, probably. Not so sure about the hallucinogens. It’s hard to picture Nolan as a high-end dealer who had the kind of contacts it takes to get the expensive, exotic stuff that Brinker apparently made available at the parties. Kelly always struck me as a small-time operator. I can’t see him risking a murder charge. And if he was Brinker’s connection, why would he want to get rid of his best client?”
“Good question.”
“Deke says Nolan has really cleaned up his act, by the way. He’s sure that the only thing Kelly is selling these days is real estate.”
“That’s good to know.” Lucy made a face. “Still, I may want to consider giving the listing to another agent.” She looked at the crime scene tape across the hall. “We can now say for certain that all of the prevailing theories about Brinker’s disappearance were wrong. By morning everyone in town will know that Aunt Sara murdered him. I wonder how it all went down.”
“I don’t know, but I can tell you one thing: Sara did some very careful planning, and she did it fast.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The body bag.”
Lucy swallowed hard. “Yes, I see what you mean. Where does a person go to purchase a body bag, anyhow, if she isn’t in the medical or law enforcement field?”
“Where else? Online. Probably paid extra for overnight shipping.”
Lucy winced. She set her water aside and dropped her head into her hands. “One thing is for sure. I can’t sleep here tonight. Or tomorrow night, either, for that matter. It was bad enough last night without knowing there was a body in the fireplace. But now that I know this place has been a crypt for the past thirteen years, there’s no way I can stay here. I’m going to check into a motel.”
Mason checked his watch. “It’s midnight.”
“So? Motels are open twenty-four hours a day, aren’t they? Wasn’t there an old inn on the square in town?”
“The Harvest Gold Inn. It’s showing its age, but it’s clean and the location is convenient.”
Lucy pushed herself up out of the chair. “I’ll go upstairs and pack.”
She crossed the kitchen and went out into the hall. There she paused and looked at Mason, her eyes shadowed. “You know, it’s pretty amazing when you think about it, isn’t it?”
“That your aunt got away with murder for thirteen years? Yes, it is.”
“But now she’s dead and the truth is going to come out.”
“So what? There’s nothing the law can do to her now.”
“No.”
Lucy did not move. She just stood there, watching him with her knowing eyes.
He got a cold feeling in his gut. “What are you thinking?”
But he was pretty sure he knew exactly what she was thinking.
“You’re in law enforcement,” she said quietly. “I thought cops didn’t like coincidences.”
“No, but they happen. And so do car accidents. I don’t like where you’re going with this.”
“Sounds to me like you’re already there. Here’s the thing, Mason. We forensic genealogists have a few things in common with other kinds of investigators—we are a suspicious lot. Probably something to do with all those fake heirs who come out of the woodwork when a wealthy person dies. Makes us ask questions. And guess what? We also know a little something about investigation techniques.”
“No,” Mason said. He tried to make it sound nonnegotiable. “You are not going to start investigating Sara’s and Mary’s death. It was ruled an accident.”
Lucy gave him a brilliant smile.
“In that case, where’s the harm in asking a few questions?” she said.
“Damn it to hell, Lucy—”
“The way I see it, there are two possibilities. The first is that there is someone who cared enough about Brinker to avenge his death. That person decided that Sara killed Brinker and took revenge.”
“No.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Think about it, Lucy. Brinker’s body was stuck in the fireplace for thirteen years. No one knew it was there until tonight. There is every reason to believe that Sara took her secret to the grave. Therefore, there’s no logical reason to conclude that after all this time someone suddenly decided that your aunt was the one who killed Brinker and that said individual took revenge by murdering Sara.”
“I agree with you,” Lucy said.
He took a breath. “Okay. Good.”
“Which leaves only one other motive—those Colfax shares.”
“Damn.” He didn’t say anything else, because there was no denying that money was always a logical motive.
“Everyone assumed those shares would go to Quinn upon Mary’s death,” Lucy said. “Mary certainly led everyone to believe that. She was Warner’s sister, but she always had a special fondness for her nephew, Quinn. However, she changed her will without telling anyone, leaving the shares to Sara instead. Sara, in turn, left them to me.”