“Yes. Good heavens! Even if he wanted to find something, how would he be able to figure out where it is?” Beth’s laugh was sad. “I don’t think he cared what we did with anything in the garage. Why would he now?”
Because his dead wife’s body had been discovered?
“People panic.” He watched her. “He didn’t try to put you off tackling the garage? Or ask you to keep hands off anything?”
Her eyes briefly narrowed, but she answered with a no before hesitating. “The only thing he said when we got started was not to throw away anything important.”
Though tempted, he didn’t say, What about your brother? Did he try to put you off? Maybe agree to help so he could steer you away from that part of the garage?
If that’s what Matt had had in mind, he’d failed in a big way, hadn’t he?
Beth looked at the fruit of their weekend’s labor. A strip of yellow crime scene tape now wrapped the pile. “Will you have to go through it all?”
“Very possibly.” Considering how much was still in the garage, too, he almost groaned. “It depends what was out here, how you reorganized it.”
“We’ve already dumped some stuff in the garbage can,” she said suddenly. “And the recycling container, too.”
He sighed. “I’d better take a look in both before I go.”
“I was going to order a Dumpster tomorrow.”
“Hold off for now. I’ll let you know when it’s okay to go ahead.”
She nodded, looking more drained than upset, which was understandable. He’d been lucky today to have her cooperation, to have her answer questions. That didn’t excuse the way his body stirred at the sight of her.
“You ready to go?” he asked.
“Yes. I got Dad to eat a bite. I suggested he spend the night at my place, but he’s set in his ways.”
A spark of irritation reminded Tony of what her father had said earlier. Bethie was old enough to take over helping her sister and making meals, so nothing changed all that much. Maybe he shouldn’t admire her for enabling her father’s selfishness.
She’d probably say she loved him enough to overlook some flaws. Tony grimaced out of view. God knows, he kept performing chores for his mother that she could afford to pay to have done. Of all people, he should understand.
As they walked the narrow passage alongside the house, Beth slid a glance at the window, covered with sheets of newspaper, before she looked determinedly away. Tony touched her back.
“Try to think about something else.”
She gave a broken laugh. “I never drink, but I’m reconsidering that. I go right by the liquor store on my way home.”
He smiled at her. “Might help tonight, but you’d be guaranteed a hangover in the morning.”
She wrinkled her nose. “One reason I stay away from even beer and wine. My stomach doesn’t handle alcohol well.”
“Your father likely to drown his worries tonight?”
“I doubt he has so much as a beer in the house. He’s never been a drinker either.”
“Maybe you inherited the weak stomach from him,” Tony suggested.
He stopped long enough to take that look into the garbage can and the recycling container, verifying what she’d said, before following her to the front of the house.
Beth stopped at the white Civic parked in the driveway. He guessed it to be ten years old or so. The brother drove a shiny black Kia Sorento that looked new. The other car at the curb earlier was an older Volkswagen Golf. Emily’s, he presumed. Apparently Dad owned the Buick sedan, showing its years. Tony wasn’t much surprised that John Marshall didn’t bother to regularly upgrade what he drove.
Beth opened the driver-side door but, instead of getting in, gazed anxiously at Tony. “Will you be coming out right away in the morning?”
“Likely,” he said. “If this isn’t your mother...well, that leads to other problems, but it’s clear we’re looking at murder here.”
“Could you tell, um, what happened to her?”
“You mean, what killed her?”
Unhappy, she nodded.
“A depression at the back of the skull is a possibility, but it could have occurred post-mortem.” Somebody—say, her father—had had to haul the dead woman out to the garage, probably drop it on the concrete floor. Or it could have been dented when the body was forced into the narrow space. The rest of the scenario he was still playing with.
Could there have been construction materials handy out here? That was a question he’d have to ask but, for now, he held it in reserve. Otherwise, the killer would have to have driven to the nearest lumberyard and bought a single sheet. How had he unloaded it and gotten it into the garage without being noticed? After all these years, would anyone remember something so seemingly insignificant? Of course, anyone but the homeowner carrying the wallboard in would likely have drawn more attention from neighbors. Yet another reason to focus on John.
“The medical examiner might be able to spot something else,” he said. “After so long, it’s sometimes impossible to pinpoint cause of death. What we do know, though, is that she didn’t wall her own body up in that garage.”
“No. I...understand.” Beth smiled weakly. “You probably had things you’d rather have been doing today, huh?”
He gripped the top of her car door, smiling again. “I was mowing my lawn when the call came. Wondering why I hadn’t waited until it had cooled down.”
Her smile was the most genuine he’d seen yet, adding a radiance to a face some might describe as plain despite translucent skin, a pretty mouth and eyes that were a soft gray-green with hints of gold.
“Still,” she said.
He grimaced, conceding the point. No, this wasn’t the way he’d have chosen to spend what was supposed to be a day off. On the other hand, he’d sought the promotion to detective because he liked puzzles.
If not for the call, he’d likely never have met her either.
The thought startled and dismayed him. She wasn’t a suspect, but she was part of this investigation and, therefore, taboo.
Tony let go of the door and took a step back. “You take care, Beth. I’ll let you know what we learn in the morning.”
Whatever she’d seen on his face drained her of that momentary vitality, letting exhaustion and anxiety take over again. He ignored his pang of regret, watching as she slid into the car, buckled her seatbelt and fired up the engine, all without looking at him again.
* * *
SHORTLY AFTER THE dental office opened the next morning, Tony was able to talk to Dr. Hugh Koster, a short, pudgy man who explained that his X-rays hadn’t been digital thirteen years ago. He’d have to send someone to search records stored in a back room.
Not an hour later, he called back.
“I’m looking at them right now. I received the X-rays from the medical examiner’s office, too. Do you want to see them side by side?”
Since he did,