Murder by Page One by Olivia Matthews (read aloud txt) 📗

know whether she had any family or friends back in Beaufort or anywhere else?”

Grant cocked his head as he considered his question. “She never mentioned anyone to my wife or me.”

That seemed strange. “Is the name Willy Pelt familiar?”

Grant shook his head. “No. Who’s that?”

I froze. “Fiona’s uncle’s lawyer. He’s also her friend.”

Grant shook his head again, even more certain. “No, she never mentioned him.”

Spence and I exchanged a quick look. Willy claimed Fiona had left her uncle’s property to him in her will. If that was true, why didn’t Grant recognize his name?

“About the Cobbler Crawl.” Spence hesitated as he escorted me to my door after our meeting with Grant Gillis Monday evening. “I understand if you want to withdraw. You have a lot on your mind with this investigation.”

Surprised, I almost tripped over my feet. Spence steadied me before I planted a facer on my cobblestone walkway. He had one hand on my elbow and the other around my waist.

“Thank you.” I stepped back and turned to him. “I have no intention of backing out. You’ve kept your word to help with this investigation. I’ll keep my word to be your partner for the event. But I’m warning you now—eating all that pie during a race might make me sick.”

Spence chuckled. “You’ll be fine. And thank you.”

“No. Thank you.” I mounted my porch steps. “A good run usually helps clear my mind. It might be just what I need to figure out how to keep the deputies from charging Jo with murder.”

“The event’s still five days away. You may have solved the case by then.” Spence smiled, but his eyes were serious. His faith in me was just the energy boost I needed. It was better than chocolate or caffeine.

“Thank you for saying that, and for seeing me home. Good night.” I opened my door, stepped inside.

“Have a good night.” Spence inclined his head before turning away.

I watched him get back into his car and drive off before locking my door and setting my alarm. Phoenix greeted me at the entryway. It was just like old times.

I scooped him into my arms and wandered farther into our home. “I’m so happy you’re feeling more like your old self.” In the kitchen, I was gratified to see his half-empty water bowl and practically clean food bowl. I set him on the ground. “Well, this is wonderful news. Let me know if you’d like any changes that’ll help make you feel even more comfortable in our new home. Perhaps you’d prefer to have your bowl moved to the French doors. Or maybe you want your own room upstairs?”

Phoenix turned from his water bowl to give me a look that was a perfect blend of incredulity and condescension. I interpreted his expression to mean that if he indeed wanted a change or two to his current setup, he was perfectly capable of handling them himself.

“Point taken, buddy.” I crossed to the sink to wash my hands. “All right, let’s see if I can find some food for myself. I’m getting weak at the knees.” I surveyed my fridge and cupboards for inspiration. “Grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of hot tea it is.”

Phoenix and I chatted about our days as I cooked dinner. He wandered closer, executing graceful figure eights around my ankles. Just like old times. He made me smile. Once my dinner was ready, I carried my meal and tea to the dining room table. Phoenix followed me.

“I may have put too many expectations on Buddy and Fiona’s lawyer.” I settled onto the chair at the head of the table. Phoenix gave a long, luxurious stretch, then laid near my feet to groom himself.

“I should’ve known better than to have done that. I mean, I knew he wouldn’t be able to share any business or legal information with us. Maybe subconsciously, I was hoping he’d let something slip. Well, actually, there’s no maybe about it.”

I glanced at Phoenix as I took a bite of my sandwich. I suspected he was only half listening to me—typical male—but I continued anyway. “Perhaps I subconsciously thought Grant would share some earth-shattering revelation about Fiona or Buddy—or both—that would break this case wide open. But of course, that only happens in books, movies, and TV.”

I took another bite of my sandwich as I mulled over the recent meeting Spence and I had had with Grant. “Grant didn’t recognize Willy’s name. Maybe Fiona never told him about her past in South Carolina. After all, Corrinne said she was a very private person. But if, as Willy claimed, he was a beneficiary of Fiona’s will, then Grant would’ve recognized his name, wouldn’t he? The question, Phoenix, is why would Willy lie about Fiona’s will?”

Phoenix’s right ear flicked at the sound of his name, but otherwise he still had nothing to contribute to the brainstorming.

I ate in silence for a while, recalling bits and pieces of the evening’s conversation with Grant and Spence. Part of me wished I’d thought to record our interview or at the very least had taken notes. Then I recalled something Grant had said about Buddy.

When Buddy told me he and Fiona were getting married, he’d bragged that he’d stolen Fiona from a much younger man.

“What younger man? Had Fiona been engaged to someone when she’d met Buddy? If so, how had this mysterious younger man handled her breaking up with him?” I directed my stream of questions to Phoenix. He aimed a brief and vaguely curious look in my direction before returning to his grooming.

Not wanting to take him away from his toilette, I excused myself from the living room and climbed the stairs to my study. Logging on to my laptop, I did an internet search for “Fiona Lyle Engagement.” The screen filled with the query results. The first link took me to an article posted to the electronic platform of Beaufort’s local weekly newspaper.

As I waited for the article to upload onto my computer, Phoenix wandered into