Stitch Me Deadly, page 19
“Not directly, but I think someone connected to her might be.”
“You mean Cary.”
I closed my eyes. “I don’t want it to be, but . . . yeah, I think it might be.”
“Have you spoken with Ms. Ellis?” he asked.
“No. What would I do? Call her up and asked how she found out about Sunshine Manor?”
“I’ll feed this lead to Detectives Ray and Bailey,” he said. “They’ll follow up with Ms. Ellis.”
“You don’t think they’ll be too hard on her, do you?”
He shook his head. “They’re tough, but they’re not abusive. Even if she is the person who did her sister in, they’ll handle her with kid gloves.”
“Wait. You don’t think that’s possible, do you?” I asked.
“In this business, I’ve learned anything is possible.” He began ticking off items on his fingers. “She suggested Sunshine Manor. She takes Halumet. She may have been resentful of Louisa.”
“But, Ted, Ms. Ellis has all that money! She has that gigantic house and—”
“It’s not always about money,” he said. “Sometimes there are factors far more volatile. I have a cousin who is a marshal in Savannah. He says the saying there is, In the South, you only kill those you really, really love.”
“I’ve seen my share of detective shows.” I set the stitchery project aside. “Nine times out of ten, it is about the money.”
He wrinkled his brow. “I’d say seven times out of ten. But the other three times, it has something to do with love.”
“So who all do you think I should put on the list of people who had it in for Mrs. Ralston?” I asked.
“Millicent Ellis, Cary Ellis, Frank Ralston—”
“Frank? Why? Hasn’t he been dead too long to be involved?”
“He has,” Ted agreed, “but someone might’ve used his name at the B and B. In fact, go ahead and put Louisa Ralston’s name on that list, too.”
“All right. Who else?”
He sighed. “Adam Gray, Marsha . . . whatever her last name is, Eleanor Ralston, Edward Larkin, Ivy Larkin, Ivy Sutherland. And you.”
“Me?”
He nodded. “Don’t forget, there might be a reason Louisa Ralston collapsed here in your shop rather than someplace else.”
Chapter Twenty-five
I was sitting on one of the red chairs in the sit-and-stitch square working on Mom’s birthday present when Sadie came in after the lunch rush.
“I looked around this morning, and you’d gone,” she said, coming over to sit on the sofa facing away from the window.
I nodded. “It was obvious you were upset with me, and I didn’t want to deal with that. So I got my cappuccinos and muffins at the coffeehouse near Adam Gray’s office.”
“Sorry about that.” She leaned back into the sofa cushions. “I was just feeling weird. This weekend I began second-guessing things all over again. Whether I could really trust Blake . . . whether or not he truly loves me . . . whether anyone’s relationship actually winds up ‘happily ever after.’”
“Sadie, you’ve got to quit doing that. You told me yourself that you were following the steps to regaining trust, and one of those steps was to make the conscious effort to trust.”
“I know. I love Blake with all my heart, and I’m terrified of getting hurt.” She sighed. “I know his breach of trust wasn’t life-shattering—it’s not like he had an affair or anything—but it still scares me.”
“He adores you. Trust him.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right. So what about you and Todd . . . and you and Ted?” she asked.
“Whatever is meant to be will be,” I said, stitching the diner’s counter in the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. “I’m not rushing into anything with either one. But I’ve been hurt so badly in the past . . . and I think both Todd and Ted have, too. We all need to know where we’re going and what we want before any of us try to pursue a relationship. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I do. I got lucky. Blake was my first real love . . . and he still is.”
I smiled. “You did get lucky.”
“Did I tell you we’re trying for a baby again?” she asked. “I think that’s why I’m feeling panicky and afraid to trust again. That’s such a huge step.”
“I know. But I also know you two will make terrific parents.” I tilted my head. “Plus, Riley has given me lots of practice making bibs and other baby things, so I’ll be ready when you do get pregnant.”
She stood. “I’d better get back over to the café before Blake gets swamped.”
As she was leaving, my phone rang.
“Hi, Ms. Singer,” the perky female voice said. “This is Debbie with the Victorian Mansion in Los Alamos. I’ve had a chance to look over your fax.”
“And?” Sorry, but I was impatient.
“You’re right about the house on the brochure. It isn’t Sunshine Manor. It’s the back entrance to the Victorian Mansion. But none of the people on your list has ever stayed here . . . unless they did so under another name.”
“You’re sure?” I asked.
“Double-checked. Is there anyone else you’d like me to look for?”
“No, but thank you so much.”
“Call me back if you need anything else,” she said. “I’m not particularly crazy about a photo of our bed-and-breakfast being used to scam people, either.”
That evening I took Mom to the seafood restaurant overlooking the ocean that Cary had taken us to. She ordered salmon steak this time, and I ordered tilapia.
“The bed-and-breakfast lead was a bust,” I said, as I tore open a garlic cheese biscuit.
“Really?”
I nodded. “The woman said none of the names on my list came up. On Ted’s advice, I even added my name to the list.”
She frowned. “And, of course, your name would’ve never come up because when we stayed there it was under my name.”
“Right. So if our Sunshine Manor person stayed with someone else, then we’ll never know.”
Mom reached across the table and patted my hand. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”
“I know.” Actually, I didn’t know. I didn’t have a clue. But I didn’t want her to worry more than she was already.
“What a surprise!”
I looked up to see Devon Reed and Ella Redmond standing by our table. It was Devon who’d spoken.
“Hello,” I said wearily.
“Did you enjoy yourselves at the auction?” Mom asked archly.
“Supremely,” Devon said.
“I did, too,” Ella said. “I bought the portrait of Louisa Ralston.”
My eyes widened. “You bought the portrait? I can’t believe Eleanor included that in the auction.”
“Yes, well, it’s a lovely portrait, and I have a vacant wall in my living room.” She smiled. “It looks beautiful. You’ll have to come by and see it.”
“Yes, I will,” I said.
“Why did you buy a portrait of someone you didn’t know?” Mom asked.
“I don’t know,” Ella said. “I felt sad for her, I suppose.”
“Besides, it’ll look great in the documentary,” said Devon, “if we’re able to find out what happened to Mrs. Ralston.”
“Yes,” I said, “I guess it will.”
Devon glanced at the maître d’, who’d been leading them to their table. “We need to get to our table and stop holding this man up. We’ll talk with you soon.”
“Take care,” I said.
Mom shook her head. “Those two are strange ones. I guess they make a good couple after all.”
I merely rolled my eyes and dug into my tilapia again. We needed to finish our dinner and get to the airport.
That evening while Angus wrestled a rubber bone filled with peanut butter up and down the hallway, I sat propped up in the bed with my laptop, trying to find out what had happened to Ivy Sutherland. I logged on to a genealogy site and did a search for Ivy Sutherland of Kansas . After nearly an hour of searching, I found a woman named Ivy Sutherland who had married a man by the name of Halstead. Ivy’s husband was listed as Baker . . . not his profession, but his name. Baker Halstead. That was an unusual name.
Ivy and Baker Halstead had two children, Ella Louise Halstead and Devon Reed Halstead.
My heart suddenly began trying to beat its way out of my chest. Ella and Devon were Louisa Ralston’s grandchildren? Could that actually be true? And if it was true, could Ella and Devon have orchestrated Louisa’s death in order to get what they felt their mother had deserved all along?
I grabbed the phone and dialed Ella’s cell phone number.
“Hello,” she answered in an almost tentative voice.
“Ella, it’s Marcy Singer.”
“Is anything wrong?” she asked. “You sound upset.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were Louisa Ralston’s granddaughter?”
There was a click, and the phone went dead. I immediately tried to call back, but the call went directly to voice mail. I was sitting there debating on whether to call Riley or Ted or to gather more information about Ella and Devon. I decided to gather information first. After all, I didn’t have very much time left on the site’s free trial period.
Ella had been married to John Redmond, but they had divorced. Devon had not been married as far as I could tell. There was a death record for Baker Halstead, but I was unable to find one for Ivy Halstead.
When the doorbell rang, I instinctively glanced at the clock, and Angus began barking. It was after nine o’clock. Grateful that I hadn’t gotten ready for bed yet, I slipped on my shoes and went downstairs to open the door. Angus was right on my heels. I peeped through the keyhole to see Ella and Devon standing on the front porch. I opened the door.
“I’m sorry I hung up on you,” Ella said. “I simply couldn’t try to explain things to you over the phone. And I wanted Devon to be with me when we spoke to you.”
Devon nodded. “Hello again.”
“Hi.” I stood back and hesitantly invited them in. I normally would’ve put Angus in the backyard, but I didn’t this time. I was probably the only person in Tallulah Falls who knew Ella and Devon were Louisa’s grandchildren. I wished I’d called Ted or Riley as I’d originally thought of doing. Then at least if Ella and Devon killed me, someone would have known the truth.
Ella, Devon, and I walked into the living room. I sat on the chair, and they sat side by side on the sofa. Angus came to lie by my feet.
“Where do we start?” Ella asked her brother.
He shrugged. “I can start.” He turned to me. “We didn’t know our mom was Louisa Ralston’s daughter until after Louisa Ralston was dead. We suspected, but we weren’t sure.”
“Why didn’t you talk with Mrs. Ralston?” I asked.
“We wanted to be sure,” Ella said. “That’s not something you merely spring on someone because you think she might be your grandmother, especially when she’s wealthy.”
“Yeah,” said Devon, “she probably had so-called relatives crawling out of the woodwork. We’d look like any other gold diggers if we didn’t have proof that she was our biological grandmother.”
“I’d been searching for Momma’s birth mother for several months,” Ella said. “And my search finally led me to Tipton-Haney House. The Sutherlands—although we loved them very much—hadn’t been forthcoming with information about the adoption. All we knew was that Momma had been born in Oregon.”
“When Mrs. Ralston died in your store,” Devon said, “Ella called me.”
“I was scared, Marcy. I thought people might think I’d had something to do with her murder.”
I nodded. “I understand that. But why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was still so new to Tallulah Falls,” Ella said, “I didn’t know who I could really trust. And I knew that if I began telling people I was Louisa Ralston’s granddaughter, they’d think I was either lying or trying to cash in on her estate.”
“And despite what you think of me,” Devon said, “that’s not what we’re trying to do.”
“Not at all,” Ella said. “We just wanted to know her. I felt like I knew her already because I’d read so much about her. My heart ached for her when I realized how she’d been done by Edward Larkin.”
“Did you find him?” I asked.
Ella nodded. “He died in a work-related accident in the fifties. He was in construction, and he fell off a scaffold.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Why did you go to such lengths to deceive me, Devon?”
Devon looked sheepish. “I wasn’t as deceptive as you probably think. I really am a journalist, and I was at the prison attempting to talk with the businessman I told you about. It was just a fluke that I ran into you and your mother there.”
“I wish you guys had been honest with me from the beginning,” I said. “Is your mother still living? Do you realize she is entitled to a trust fund Mrs. Ralston set up for her several years ago?”
Ella nodded. “Yeah, Mom is living, but she has terminal cancer. She’s in a hospice house at home in Kansas.” Her eyes welled with tears, and Devon put his arm around her shoulders.
“We wanted to do this for her,” he said. “We wanted her to be able to make contact with the mother she never knew.”
“And the really terrible thing,” Ella said, sniffling, “is that Mrs. Ralston wanted that, too. She’d actually been looking for Momma until the day she died.”
I ran my hands down my face. “You have to come forward, guys. You have to.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Ella said. “All that really matters is finding out who killed our grandmother and why.”
“I think I know the why,” I said. I explained to them about Sunshine Manor and the fraudulent children’s home. “If your mother doesn’t come forward to claim that trust fund, the money will revert to Sunshine Manor, and whoever killed her will get the money he or she was after.”
Ella sighed and looked at her brother. “What do you think?”
A muscle worked in his jaw while he considered what to do about the situation. “I don’t want whoever killed our grandmother to profit from her death and get away scot-free.” Suddenly his face brightened. “Revealing ourselves to the world might be the perfect way to draw out the killer hiding behind Sunshine Manor.”
Chapter Twenty-six
I called Riley and put the phone on speaker. I apologized for calling so late, but when I explained what was going on, she was glad I had.
“The commission from this case might cover Baby Kendall’s first year or two of college,” she said with a laugh.
Riley agreed to represent the Halstead siblings in their attempt to claim Ivy League’s trust fund. She didn’t think there would be much trouble getting the trust fund, even without their mother present for any legal proceedings—Ella already had her mother’s power of attorney, due to her health. But like Ella and me, Riley was worried about the repercussions of ticking off Mrs. Ralston’s killer. Devon seemed gung ho to have the killer “bring it.”
“Have you fully thought this out, Ella and Devon?” Riley asked. “This person has already killed twice for this money. I’m guessing that racking up two more bodies won’t weigh too heavily on his or her conscience.”
“It’s a risk we’re willing to take,” Devon said.
“I’m going to call Ted Nash as soon as we hang up,” I said. “He’ll be able to advise us about security measures and might even be able to offer some help in that area.”
“That’s great, Marce,” Riley said, “but don’t go completely renegade with regard to the Tallulah County cops. They don’t need to be blindsided with this. Even if they tell you it’s stupid, advise them of what we’re doing.”
“What are we doing?” Ella asked.
“You’ll come into my office tomorrow morning first thing. I don’t have any appointments until after lunch. Bring your proof of identity and claims to Mrs. Ralston’s estate. I’ll need to schedule DNA testing. Does either of you have a problem with that?”
Both Ella and Devon said they did not.
“It would be better to test Mrs. Ralston’s DNA against your mother’s DNA,” Riley said, “but yours might be a close enough match. We’re going to announce that in a press conference at around eleven thirty tomorrow morning. I’ll have my mom—er, my secretary—send out an event release first thing tomorrow. The two of you need to be with me at my office as I announce to the press that long-lost relatives of Louisa Ralston have come forward to claim a trust fund Mrs. Ralston left to their mother. I’ll say that DNA tests are being conducted but that we are confident, based on the evidence we have, that everything will go forward and that these siblings will inherit from the grandmother they never knew.”
“There’s your personal-interest piece, Devon,” I said. I kind of regretted it as soon as I said it, but I figured he’d had it coming for quite a while.
Riley laughed. “Oh, it’ll be a personal-interest piece, all right. You’ll get your fill of reporters and gossipmongers. We’ll take no questions but promise to keep the media informed as the story develops. Then we’ll call an end to the press conference, I will return to my office, and the two of you can exit out the back.”
“I’m a little scared,” Ella said. “Whoever killed our grandmother and Mr. Gray is going to be gunning for us.”
“But that’s the point, El,” Devon said. “We’ll draw that person out. No way are we gonna let ourselves be poisoned. We’ll be on our guard. It’ll be okay.”
“As your attorney, I must advise there is some risk involved here,” Riley said. “Ella, you are absolutely correct in that you’ll be bait to draw out this killer. And just because poison has been the weapon of choice in the deaths of Louisa and Adam doesn’t mean he or she doesn’t have a gun or won’t try to run you over with a car or whatever. If you’re having second thoughts, tell me and I’ll ditch the press conference.”
“No,” Ella said, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I want to do this.”
After we spoke to Riley, I called Ted.
“Ted Nash,” he answered in his professional, no-nonsense detective voice.
“You mean Cary.”
I closed my eyes. “I don’t want it to be, but . . . yeah, I think it might be.”
“Have you spoken with Ms. Ellis?” he asked.
“No. What would I do? Call her up and asked how she found out about Sunshine Manor?”
“I’ll feed this lead to Detectives Ray and Bailey,” he said. “They’ll follow up with Ms. Ellis.”
“You don’t think they’ll be too hard on her, do you?”
He shook his head. “They’re tough, but they’re not abusive. Even if she is the person who did her sister in, they’ll handle her with kid gloves.”
“Wait. You don’t think that’s possible, do you?” I asked.
“In this business, I’ve learned anything is possible.” He began ticking off items on his fingers. “She suggested Sunshine Manor. She takes Halumet. She may have been resentful of Louisa.”
“But, Ted, Ms. Ellis has all that money! She has that gigantic house and—”
“It’s not always about money,” he said. “Sometimes there are factors far more volatile. I have a cousin who is a marshal in Savannah. He says the saying there is, In the South, you only kill those you really, really love.”
“I’ve seen my share of detective shows.” I set the stitchery project aside. “Nine times out of ten, it is about the money.”
He wrinkled his brow. “I’d say seven times out of ten. But the other three times, it has something to do with love.”
“So who all do you think I should put on the list of people who had it in for Mrs. Ralston?” I asked.
“Millicent Ellis, Cary Ellis, Frank Ralston—”
“Frank? Why? Hasn’t he been dead too long to be involved?”
“He has,” Ted agreed, “but someone might’ve used his name at the B and B. In fact, go ahead and put Louisa Ralston’s name on that list, too.”
“All right. Who else?”
He sighed. “Adam Gray, Marsha . . . whatever her last name is, Eleanor Ralston, Edward Larkin, Ivy Larkin, Ivy Sutherland. And you.”
“Me?”
He nodded. “Don’t forget, there might be a reason Louisa Ralston collapsed here in your shop rather than someplace else.”
Chapter Twenty-five
I was sitting on one of the red chairs in the sit-and-stitch square working on Mom’s birthday present when Sadie came in after the lunch rush.
“I looked around this morning, and you’d gone,” she said, coming over to sit on the sofa facing away from the window.
I nodded. “It was obvious you were upset with me, and I didn’t want to deal with that. So I got my cappuccinos and muffins at the coffeehouse near Adam Gray’s office.”
“Sorry about that.” She leaned back into the sofa cushions. “I was just feeling weird. This weekend I began second-guessing things all over again. Whether I could really trust Blake . . . whether or not he truly loves me . . . whether anyone’s relationship actually winds up ‘happily ever after.’”
“Sadie, you’ve got to quit doing that. You told me yourself that you were following the steps to regaining trust, and one of those steps was to make the conscious effort to trust.”
“I know. I love Blake with all my heart, and I’m terrified of getting hurt.” She sighed. “I know his breach of trust wasn’t life-shattering—it’s not like he had an affair or anything—but it still scares me.”
“He adores you. Trust him.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right. So what about you and Todd . . . and you and Ted?” she asked.
“Whatever is meant to be will be,” I said, stitching the diner’s counter in the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. “I’m not rushing into anything with either one. But I’ve been hurt so badly in the past . . . and I think both Todd and Ted have, too. We all need to know where we’re going and what we want before any of us try to pursue a relationship. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I do. I got lucky. Blake was my first real love . . . and he still is.”
I smiled. “You did get lucky.”
“Did I tell you we’re trying for a baby again?” she asked. “I think that’s why I’m feeling panicky and afraid to trust again. That’s such a huge step.”
“I know. But I also know you two will make terrific parents.” I tilted my head. “Plus, Riley has given me lots of practice making bibs and other baby things, so I’ll be ready when you do get pregnant.”
She stood. “I’d better get back over to the café before Blake gets swamped.”
As she was leaving, my phone rang.
“Hi, Ms. Singer,” the perky female voice said. “This is Debbie with the Victorian Mansion in Los Alamos. I’ve had a chance to look over your fax.”
“And?” Sorry, but I was impatient.
“You’re right about the house on the brochure. It isn’t Sunshine Manor. It’s the back entrance to the Victorian Mansion. But none of the people on your list has ever stayed here . . . unless they did so under another name.”
“You’re sure?” I asked.
“Double-checked. Is there anyone else you’d like me to look for?”
“No, but thank you so much.”
“Call me back if you need anything else,” she said. “I’m not particularly crazy about a photo of our bed-and-breakfast being used to scam people, either.”
That evening I took Mom to the seafood restaurant overlooking the ocean that Cary had taken us to. She ordered salmon steak this time, and I ordered tilapia.
“The bed-and-breakfast lead was a bust,” I said, as I tore open a garlic cheese biscuit.
“Really?”
I nodded. “The woman said none of the names on my list came up. On Ted’s advice, I even added my name to the list.”
She frowned. “And, of course, your name would’ve never come up because when we stayed there it was under my name.”
“Right. So if our Sunshine Manor person stayed with someone else, then we’ll never know.”
Mom reached across the table and patted my hand. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”
“I know.” Actually, I didn’t know. I didn’t have a clue. But I didn’t want her to worry more than she was already.
“What a surprise!”
I looked up to see Devon Reed and Ella Redmond standing by our table. It was Devon who’d spoken.
“Hello,” I said wearily.
“Did you enjoy yourselves at the auction?” Mom asked archly.
“Supremely,” Devon said.
“I did, too,” Ella said. “I bought the portrait of Louisa Ralston.”
My eyes widened. “You bought the portrait? I can’t believe Eleanor included that in the auction.”
“Yes, well, it’s a lovely portrait, and I have a vacant wall in my living room.” She smiled. “It looks beautiful. You’ll have to come by and see it.”
“Yes, I will,” I said.
“Why did you buy a portrait of someone you didn’t know?” Mom asked.
“I don’t know,” Ella said. “I felt sad for her, I suppose.”
“Besides, it’ll look great in the documentary,” said Devon, “if we’re able to find out what happened to Mrs. Ralston.”
“Yes,” I said, “I guess it will.”
Devon glanced at the maître d’, who’d been leading them to their table. “We need to get to our table and stop holding this man up. We’ll talk with you soon.”
“Take care,” I said.
Mom shook her head. “Those two are strange ones. I guess they make a good couple after all.”
I merely rolled my eyes and dug into my tilapia again. We needed to finish our dinner and get to the airport.
That evening while Angus wrestled a rubber bone filled with peanut butter up and down the hallway, I sat propped up in the bed with my laptop, trying to find out what had happened to Ivy Sutherland. I logged on to a genealogy site and did a search for Ivy Sutherland of Kansas . After nearly an hour of searching, I found a woman named Ivy Sutherland who had married a man by the name of Halstead. Ivy’s husband was listed as Baker . . . not his profession, but his name. Baker Halstead. That was an unusual name.
Ivy and Baker Halstead had two children, Ella Louise Halstead and Devon Reed Halstead.
My heart suddenly began trying to beat its way out of my chest. Ella and Devon were Louisa Ralston’s grandchildren? Could that actually be true? And if it was true, could Ella and Devon have orchestrated Louisa’s death in order to get what they felt their mother had deserved all along?
I grabbed the phone and dialed Ella’s cell phone number.
“Hello,” she answered in an almost tentative voice.
“Ella, it’s Marcy Singer.”
“Is anything wrong?” she asked. “You sound upset.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were Louisa Ralston’s granddaughter?”
There was a click, and the phone went dead. I immediately tried to call back, but the call went directly to voice mail. I was sitting there debating on whether to call Riley or Ted or to gather more information about Ella and Devon. I decided to gather information first. After all, I didn’t have very much time left on the site’s free trial period.
Ella had been married to John Redmond, but they had divorced. Devon had not been married as far as I could tell. There was a death record for Baker Halstead, but I was unable to find one for Ivy Halstead.
When the doorbell rang, I instinctively glanced at the clock, and Angus began barking. It was after nine o’clock. Grateful that I hadn’t gotten ready for bed yet, I slipped on my shoes and went downstairs to open the door. Angus was right on my heels. I peeped through the keyhole to see Ella and Devon standing on the front porch. I opened the door.
“I’m sorry I hung up on you,” Ella said. “I simply couldn’t try to explain things to you over the phone. And I wanted Devon to be with me when we spoke to you.”
Devon nodded. “Hello again.”
“Hi.” I stood back and hesitantly invited them in. I normally would’ve put Angus in the backyard, but I didn’t this time. I was probably the only person in Tallulah Falls who knew Ella and Devon were Louisa’s grandchildren. I wished I’d called Ted or Riley as I’d originally thought of doing. Then at least if Ella and Devon killed me, someone would have known the truth.
Ella, Devon, and I walked into the living room. I sat on the chair, and they sat side by side on the sofa. Angus came to lie by my feet.
“Where do we start?” Ella asked her brother.
He shrugged. “I can start.” He turned to me. “We didn’t know our mom was Louisa Ralston’s daughter until after Louisa Ralston was dead. We suspected, but we weren’t sure.”
“Why didn’t you talk with Mrs. Ralston?” I asked.
“We wanted to be sure,” Ella said. “That’s not something you merely spring on someone because you think she might be your grandmother, especially when she’s wealthy.”
“Yeah,” said Devon, “she probably had so-called relatives crawling out of the woodwork. We’d look like any other gold diggers if we didn’t have proof that she was our biological grandmother.”
“I’d been searching for Momma’s birth mother for several months,” Ella said. “And my search finally led me to Tipton-Haney House. The Sutherlands—although we loved them very much—hadn’t been forthcoming with information about the adoption. All we knew was that Momma had been born in Oregon.”
“When Mrs. Ralston died in your store,” Devon said, “Ella called me.”
“I was scared, Marcy. I thought people might think I’d had something to do with her murder.”
I nodded. “I understand that. But why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was still so new to Tallulah Falls,” Ella said, “I didn’t know who I could really trust. And I knew that if I began telling people I was Louisa Ralston’s granddaughter, they’d think I was either lying or trying to cash in on her estate.”
“And despite what you think of me,” Devon said, “that’s not what we’re trying to do.”
“Not at all,” Ella said. “We just wanted to know her. I felt like I knew her already because I’d read so much about her. My heart ached for her when I realized how she’d been done by Edward Larkin.”
“Did you find him?” I asked.
Ella nodded. “He died in a work-related accident in the fifties. He was in construction, and he fell off a scaffold.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Why did you go to such lengths to deceive me, Devon?”
Devon looked sheepish. “I wasn’t as deceptive as you probably think. I really am a journalist, and I was at the prison attempting to talk with the businessman I told you about. It was just a fluke that I ran into you and your mother there.”
“I wish you guys had been honest with me from the beginning,” I said. “Is your mother still living? Do you realize she is entitled to a trust fund Mrs. Ralston set up for her several years ago?”
Ella nodded. “Yeah, Mom is living, but she has terminal cancer. She’s in a hospice house at home in Kansas.” Her eyes welled with tears, and Devon put his arm around her shoulders.
“We wanted to do this for her,” he said. “We wanted her to be able to make contact with the mother she never knew.”
“And the really terrible thing,” Ella said, sniffling, “is that Mrs. Ralston wanted that, too. She’d actually been looking for Momma until the day she died.”
I ran my hands down my face. “You have to come forward, guys. You have to.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Ella said. “All that really matters is finding out who killed our grandmother and why.”
“I think I know the why,” I said. I explained to them about Sunshine Manor and the fraudulent children’s home. “If your mother doesn’t come forward to claim that trust fund, the money will revert to Sunshine Manor, and whoever killed her will get the money he or she was after.”
Ella sighed and looked at her brother. “What do you think?”
A muscle worked in his jaw while he considered what to do about the situation. “I don’t want whoever killed our grandmother to profit from her death and get away scot-free.” Suddenly his face brightened. “Revealing ourselves to the world might be the perfect way to draw out the killer hiding behind Sunshine Manor.”
Chapter Twenty-six
I called Riley and put the phone on speaker. I apologized for calling so late, but when I explained what was going on, she was glad I had.
“The commission from this case might cover Baby Kendall’s first year or two of college,” she said with a laugh.
Riley agreed to represent the Halstead siblings in their attempt to claim Ivy League’s trust fund. She didn’t think there would be much trouble getting the trust fund, even without their mother present for any legal proceedings—Ella already had her mother’s power of attorney, due to her health. But like Ella and me, Riley was worried about the repercussions of ticking off Mrs. Ralston’s killer. Devon seemed gung ho to have the killer “bring it.”
“Have you fully thought this out, Ella and Devon?” Riley asked. “This person has already killed twice for this money. I’m guessing that racking up two more bodies won’t weigh too heavily on his or her conscience.”
“It’s a risk we’re willing to take,” Devon said.
“I’m going to call Ted Nash as soon as we hang up,” I said. “He’ll be able to advise us about security measures and might even be able to offer some help in that area.”
“That’s great, Marce,” Riley said, “but don’t go completely renegade with regard to the Tallulah County cops. They don’t need to be blindsided with this. Even if they tell you it’s stupid, advise them of what we’re doing.”
“What are we doing?” Ella asked.
“You’ll come into my office tomorrow morning first thing. I don’t have any appointments until after lunch. Bring your proof of identity and claims to Mrs. Ralston’s estate. I’ll need to schedule DNA testing. Does either of you have a problem with that?”
Both Ella and Devon said they did not.
“It would be better to test Mrs. Ralston’s DNA against your mother’s DNA,” Riley said, “but yours might be a close enough match. We’re going to announce that in a press conference at around eleven thirty tomorrow morning. I’ll have my mom—er, my secretary—send out an event release first thing tomorrow. The two of you need to be with me at my office as I announce to the press that long-lost relatives of Louisa Ralston have come forward to claim a trust fund Mrs. Ralston left to their mother. I’ll say that DNA tests are being conducted but that we are confident, based on the evidence we have, that everything will go forward and that these siblings will inherit from the grandmother they never knew.”
“There’s your personal-interest piece, Devon,” I said. I kind of regretted it as soon as I said it, but I figured he’d had it coming for quite a while.
Riley laughed. “Oh, it’ll be a personal-interest piece, all right. You’ll get your fill of reporters and gossipmongers. We’ll take no questions but promise to keep the media informed as the story develops. Then we’ll call an end to the press conference, I will return to my office, and the two of you can exit out the back.”
“I’m a little scared,” Ella said. “Whoever killed our grandmother and Mr. Gray is going to be gunning for us.”
“But that’s the point, El,” Devon said. “We’ll draw that person out. No way are we gonna let ourselves be poisoned. We’ll be on our guard. It’ll be okay.”
“As your attorney, I must advise there is some risk involved here,” Riley said. “Ella, you are absolutely correct in that you’ll be bait to draw out this killer. And just because poison has been the weapon of choice in the deaths of Louisa and Adam doesn’t mean he or she doesn’t have a gun or won’t try to run you over with a car or whatever. If you’re having second thoughts, tell me and I’ll ditch the press conference.”
“No,” Ella said, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I want to do this.”
After we spoke to Riley, I called Ted.
“Ted Nash,” he answered in his professional, no-nonsense detective voice.
