The Burnt Island Burial Ground by Mindy Quigley

Author:Mindy Quigley [Quigley, Mindy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Cozy, Fiction, Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Women Sleuths
ISBN: 9781512028096
Google: oTnMsgEACAAJ
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2015-06-23T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Lindsay woke up unusually early the next morning still mulling over the revelations about Boughtflower’s will. Why had he sought out Dunette? Had he already planned to leave his fortune to her, or was he simply looking for a caring and attentive nurse to shepherd him through his final days? Why had he entrusted Jess with his affairs, knowing that she had complete control of all his finances, only to disinherit her in his will? Why had he apparently strung the Philpots along financially right up until the end, instead of warning them that they would receive nothing in his will? Was Boughtflower’s secretary the “somebody else” he’d told Lindsay was helping to ensure that his wishes were carried out? If so, where was she? And, of course, there was still the lingering question of his confession about hiding a body and stealing money from the inhabitants of the Burnt Island.

She’d called Mike the previous night to see if he could shed any light on the legal ramifications of the bequest. He’d spoken with Dunette briefly and offered to pay a visit to the Law Offices of Marshall Pickett, LLC on her behalf first thing Monday morning to see if he could discover the reason for the strange distribution of Boughtflower’s assets. Because it was Sunday, getting more answers would have to wait at least a day.

In her stocking feet, Lindsay padded quietly through the house. The sun shone brightly through the windows, and for the first time since her fight with Warren, she felt strangely contented. Kipper’s glitter-painted nails click-clicked on the floor as he walked alongside her down the hallway toward the kitchen. Simmy’s buzzsaw snoring could be heard through her closed bedroom door. Lindsay realized that, for the first time in four months, several days in a row had passed since she’d last given any thought to Leander Swoopes. The raw anxiety that had plagued her seemed to have been dulled slightly, although she wasn’t entirely sure why. By all external measures, her life hadn’t improved. She’d had an emotional breakdown at work and been sent home by her boss. The police were no further in their attempts to discover the identity of W. Doer. Her heart still contracted into a painful, tight ball every time she thought about losing Warren. And yet, something inside of her had definitively shifted.

She made herself a cup of coffee and paged through the Sunday News & Observer. The paper contained an almost comically brief obituary of “the beloved patriarch” Otis Boughtflower, stating that the former owner of Boughtflower Textiles “died peacefully” and was “resting in the arms of Our Lord.” It went on to describe how he had been survived by “his loving daughter, Margo, her husband Yancy, and his beloved granddaughter Jessica.” Only the almost inhuman corpulence captured in the memorial picture marked Boughtflower out from the twenty or thirty other people eulogized in the paper. Lindsay thought for a moment what a truly honest obituary for Boughtflower might look like.

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