That's the Way the Cookie Crumbles by Lorena McCourtney

Author:Lorena McCourtney [McCourtney, Lorena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lorena McCourtney
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

IVY

Elena left for the townhouse immediately after lunch. I asked if she wanted me to check on the cats while she was gone, but she thought they’d settled in comfortably now. Mac, who still writes occasional articles for travel magazines, wanted to visit the local library to check out background material on an old ghost town east of San Isolde. I thought, with a considerable lack of enthusiasm, that it was time to tackle the postponed task of cleaning the stove.

Happily, Mac and I compromised. We cleaned the stove together, using my trusty, old-fashioned mixture of baking soda and vinegar, and then went to the library together. The library, also old-fashioned, had a blocky, tan-brick exterior, with lion statues—one paw missing—guarding the front steps, but the nicely up-to-date computer system made finding the information Mac wanted easy. However, as is usual in a library, we both got sidetracked into other subjects: Mac into information about a local woodworking artist who specialized in carving bears, me into some interesting material about ordinary household materials used as poisons. Nothing I needed at the moment, but you never know when you might run into a poisoner, right? I photocopied some of the pages and, back home, stuck them in my Poisons file.

Elena was already home, and I went over to ask her how the meeting with Stan had gone. She was sitting at the dining room table with papers . . . stapled papers, folded papers, paper-clipped papers . . . looking as if she’d been caught in a paperwork pandemic.

“Did Stan find the genealogical material he said he was looking for?” I asked.

“No. It’s probably in the file cabinet they removed.” She paused. “If it exists. I don’t remember Miles ever mentioning any interest in genealogy. We talked once about doing those DNA tests that are supposed to tell you about your ancestors, but we never got around to doing it.”

“Do you think Stan may have been hoping to find something other than genealogical information?” I asked cautiously. I didn’t want to suggest anything that would raise her hackles about Stan if their relationship was on better footing now. He was, after all, her last connection with Miles. And maybe my suspicions of him were unfair.

“No. Well, maybe . . . oh, I don’t know.” She threw up her hands in frustration. “I don’t trust him. But then, I don’t think he trusts me either. I’m pretty sure he still thinks I coaxed . . . or pressured . . . Miles into leaving everything to me. He may even think I killed Miles.”

“Did you mention to him that the police had been here to search the house?”

“No. He did ask if Miles had kept papers or anything here. I suppose he was thinking the genealogical information might be here.”

“Could what he wants be in these papers you’re looking at?”

“These are all financial records I got out of Miles’s desk. Paid bills and bank statements and credit card statements. I brought it all home so I could go through everything.

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