Chapter Five

      “Maybe I was an accountant.” Martin Smith’s words broke the silence that had settled over the dining room nearly an hour ago and brought Juliet Crandall’s attention from the stacks of papers in front of her to him—exactly where he wanted it to be.

      “And why do you say that?”

      “Because there’s something familiar about this.” He took in the entire room with his gesture—the empty boxes, the countless stacks and piles of papers, the last two boxes waiting for sorting. “I feel like I’ve done it before. We know I wasn’t a cop. Unless I was a very methodical criminal, maybe I was an accountant. Maybe I was an auditor with the IRS, and that’s why no one would admit to expecting my visit.”

      She didn’t smile at his joke, but returned to the statements she was sorting as she absently asked, “Are you good with numbers?”

      “I don’t know. Try me.”

      “What’s two hundred thousand divided by three?”

      “That’s an easy one: 66,666.66 for one, .67 for the other two.”

      Holding up an official-looking document, she shook her head. “It’s the amount of life insurance each of Olivia’s children received following her death.”

      “She divided her life insurance three ways?”

      “One-third to each of her children: Hal, Eve and Roy Jr. I thought Olivia was convinced Roy Jr. was dead.”

      “That’s what Sue Marie Harper said.”

      “I wish we’d asked Eve yesterday.”

      It would have been kind of hard to work into the conversation, he thought as he sorted a half-dozen credit card statements from a pile of utility bills. We’d like to go through all of your mother’s personal records to see if we can prove that I didn’t have anything to do with her murder, and, oh, by the way, did she believe that your brother, who ran away when you were a baby, was still alive, or had she finally given up hope?

      “What’s the date on the policy?”

      She turned to the last page. “It was signed thirteen months ago. Maybe she’d heard from Roy Jr.”

      “Without telling anyone? Not even her other children?” It didn’t seem likely. Hal and Eve had just been kids when their brother disappeared, but surely their mother would have told them if he’d contacted her. “Maybe she just never gave up hope.” Hope died hard—his was still hanging on, and he imagined it was nothing compared to a mother’s hope for her eldest child.

      Juliet laid the life insurance policy aside and reached into the box at her feet for yet another handful of papers. Olivia never threw anything away, Eve had said, and the boxes proved her right. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been particularly organized, at least in this area. Kids’ drawings from twenty years ago shared space with utility bills from last year. Credit card and bank statements were spread through every box, along with yellowed Christmas cards, long-done to-do lists and personal correspondence.

      Most likely Olivia had meant to organize the boxes at some future date. She had never intended to die and leave her personal things in such a mess.

      Suddenly antsy, Martin pushed himself to his feet and stretched. “Let’s go somewhere.”

      “Where?”

      “I don’t know. The hardware store. I’ll change your locks this afternoon.”

      She looked wary. “Do you know how to do that?”

      “Of course. You drill a few holes and install the lock set. No problem.” He waited until the caution faded, then added, “Besides, the directions are on the back of the package.”

      When she smiled but didn’t immediately get up, he wheeled her chair back from the table and pulled her to her feet. “Come on. It’s too pretty a day to stay inside with a bunch