“None?” Keith asked.
Maisey shook her head. “None.”
Keith closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He hadn’t planned on staying on Fairham for long. He’d hoped to get his mother’s affairs organized so he could return within a couple of weeks, put some distance between himself and the man he used to be, get back on his regular schedule. But there was so much to try to save here, and it would be far more difficult to manage from across the country.
Almost as if she could read his thoughts, Maisey touched his sleeve. “Keith, this must be beyond upsetting to you. If you’d rather turn everything over to me, I...I’ll do what I can.”
His sister was a children’s book author, and she was married and trying to focus on raising her kids, one of whom was blind and required extra care. She had Rafe’s support, of course, but Rafe wouldn’t be able to help with this. He had his hands full running his own business.
“No. I’ve got it.” His grandfather would expect more of him than to dump Josephine’s death onto Maisey or Roxanne.
“What about your company?” she asked.
“It’ll be fine.” He’d have to stop acquiring for the time being—unless he decided to juggle that with everything else. But there was no need to do that. He could rely on his employees and focus on his own pursuits later.
Maisey turned back to Chief Underwood. “That’s it? That’s the answer? She was going bankrupt, so she killed herself?”
“Going bankrupt would be no small thing to someone like Josephine,” Chief Underwood pointed out. “You said that yourself.”
“True,” Keith allowed. “But you don’t know our mother if you think she’d wimp out that easily.”
Underwood tucked several strands of her honey-colored hair behind one ear. “From what I’ve seen, she’s been battling financial problems for at least three years, ever since I got here. That was when she first bought into the resort.”
“Still,” Keith said.
The police chief scooted her chair closer to the desk. “Look, Mr. Lazarow. I can see how hard this is for you.” She shifted those pretty eyes to Maisey. “For both of you. If she were my mother, I’d be just as convinced she’d never take her own life. But...we can’t overlook the facts.”
“What facts?” Keith asked. “The autopsy hasn’t even been done yet.”
“At this point, the coroner and I believe the autopsy is merely a formality.”
“Which is what makes me uncomfortable,” Keith said.
“That’s why we’re permitting you to select a qualified pathologist from a list of doctors we recognize as having the proper credentials and experience—to compensate for any prejudice you feel we might have. Didn’t Maisey tell you? We spoke about it this morning.”
“Maisey told me, and I appreciate that you’re working with us.” He had enough money, and his name carried enough clout, that he could create a fuss if she didn’t. Whether that had been a factor or not, he hated to guess. She’d agreed; that was what mattered.
“I’m happy to make the concession,” she said.
“That’s good. Thank you. But we need more,” he responded. “We need an aggressive investigation.”
Underwood’s chair creaked when she shifted in it, even though she didn’t weigh all that much. “O-kay.” She stretched out the word as if she was surprised he was still pushing. “Let’s look at other possibilities, shall we? Who would’ve wanted your mother dead?”
Now she was playing along just to show them how ridiculous they were being. Keith resented the fact that she was patronizing him, but at least she was listening.
“Our mother wouldn’t end it all without providing for Pippa and Tyrone,” Maisey said. “She had other help—people who assisted whenever she had a party or drove her if she preferred not to drive—but they were only on call and weren’t nearly as close to her. She wouldn’t have left Pippa and Tyrone high and dry, especially since they’re getting on in age.”
“Even if she’d lived, she wouldn’t have been able to continue paying them,” Underwood said.
“You can’t say that for sure,” Maisey argued. “She was dating a wealthy man from Australia. Maybe they would’ve married, and that would’ve solved everything.”
“You’re talking about Hugh Pointer.”
It wasn’t a question, more of a confirmation. “Yes.”
“I thought so.” Underwood clasped her hands in front of her. “He’s already married, Maisey.”
This news hit Keith like a solid right hook. “What?”
“You heard correctly. I called to get a statement from him before he could hear the news from someone else.”
“So...what was he doing with our mother?” Keith asked.
She moved some papers onto a pile to her left. “This wouldn’t be the first time someone’s cheated.”
“I’d be willing to bet it was the first time someone cheated on our mother,” Maisey said. “Did she know he was married?”
Keith answered before Chief Underwood could. “No way. Mom would never tolerate second place.”
“I tend to agree,” Underwood said. “She didn’t strike me as someone who’d accept anything less than total devotion. Although I couldn’t say we were friends, I met her on several occasions—at the playhouse one night, at the opening of the new art gallery a block over, at the event we held to raise money to equip our volunteer firefighters. She was...formidable, to say the least. So I’m guessing she didn’t know but found out, and that may have precipitated her death. Could be she suspected something was up, hired a private detective to follow Hugh around and...”
Underwood didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to. If Josephine had suspected, she could’ve done exactly that. Their mother wouldn’t hesitate to protect her interests. From time to time, Keith had even suspected she had people watching him.
No longer sure what to say, he sank back into his seat. “What a bastard.”
“Well, if she was hoping to marry him for his money...” Underwood raised her hands as if she didn’t care to spell out that thought, either, and she had a point.
Keith had expected the fact that Josephine had packed her bags and had a fabulous vacation lined up to serve as proof that she’d planned to stick around long enough to enjoy it. But if she’d been battling to save her fortune, her land and her house, and she’d just learned that her only hope of solving these problems wasn’t going to pan out...
God, she could’ve called him, Keith thought. He was shocked at how good he was at making money, once he really started to apply himself.
But, as Chief Underwood had mentioned, Josephine had too much pride...
“Wait,” he said. “If she was planning to go visit him at his home...what about his wife? How would he keep them from meeting up?”
“Lana Pointer was touring Europe with their daughter, who’s eighteen. They have two sons, who’re closer to your age, married and on their own, and then this girl, who came as a late surprise when his wife was in her forties.”
Les Scott, a uniformed police officer and someone Keith had gone to school with before ninth grade—at which point Josephine had shipped him off to boarding school—stuck his head in the room. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m going