Page 28 of Luck of the Devil (Harper Adams Mystery #3)

I opened the address book and considered who to call first. My mother’s so-called friends had no problem gossiping about her, but I didn’t want the mystery woman’s visit spread all over town.

It would be better if no one knew we were looking into her death.

Besides, I wasn’t sure how forthright her friends would be after my confrontation with them at the funeral.

So, who was most likely to give me something and keep it quiet?

Then it hit me. Lisa Murphy.

She was the one who’d alerted my mother to Ava Peterman’s kidnapping less than an hour after the police showed up. I’d talked to her during my investigation into the girl’s disappearance. She’d been both insightful and blunt, so it seemed likely she wouldn’t hold back.

I looked up her number in the address book. After the third ring, I was sure she wasn’t going to answer, so she surprised me when she picked up and said, “What are you doin’ callin’ my landline, Harper Adams?”

“Sorry,” I said, slightly taken back. “It was the only number I had.”

“Let me guess, you got it from your mother’s address book.” She made a tutting sound. “She wasn’t fond of cell phones.”

“Guilty on all counts,” I admitted.

“What can I do for you, Harper?” she asked in a no-nonsense tone. “I assume this is about your mother.”

“You’re practically clairvoyant, Mrs. Murphy.”

“I told you last time we talked to call me Lisa. Mrs. Murphy makes me feel old. And there’s nothing clairvoyant about it,” she scoffed. “It’s plain common sense, something most people in this town lack. Your mother died mysteriously, and you know I know things other people don’t.”

She had me there. “Right again, although most people don’t think her death was mysterious.”

“Most people are imbeciles.”

Again, no arguing with that.

“ Of course it was mysterious,” she said, sounding annoyed. “I heard she had a suitcase in her car, and it was common knowledge that your mother practically refused to leave Jackson Creek, let alone go on an overnight trip.”

“You heard she had a suitcase?”

“I believe you announced it to a small group of women at her funeral,” she said. “Rather loudly, I might add.”

Not my finest moment. “I suppose I did.”

“The real question is where she was going.”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” I said. “If you have any insight, it would be helpful.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”

“I’m sure you knew that my father had left my mother.”

“ Everyone knew that,” she said wryly. “Much to your mother’s chagrin.”

“What were the rumors about their situation?”

“There were multiple theories. One was that your father got tired of her nonsense and moved out. But it can’t be coincidental that it happened right after you returned, and the fact that you remained in the apartment made some people think he moved out because he wasn’t happy you were back.

They think your mother was the one who wanted you there.

And then, of course, there was her recent behavior. ”

“What recent behavior?”

“Why, just two weeks ago, she heard Donna Wheaten bad-mouthing you at church. Sarah Jane told Donna to hush her mouth before she told the whole town what Donna had planted in her backyard.”

While I would have loved to think my mother was defending me out of devotion, I was sure it had been for selfish purposes.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” I said dismissively.

“She wouldn’t want people gossiping about me because it made her look bad.

If she’d had her way, no one would ever have mentioned my name again. ”

“She might have felt that way when you first came back,” she said, “but she told Donna you were caught up in a bad situation and doing the best you could. And then she made the threat about disclosing what Donna was growing in her backyard if she wouldn’t quit.”

I was momentarily speechless. “Wow.” I finally said.

“Exactly,” she said in a smug tone. “Total turnabout. So some people thought your father didn’t like you here in town and left to preserve his good name.”

“Except I work at his firm,” I said.

“Like I said,” she said with a sniff. “Most people in these parts lack common sense.”

“Have you heard any rumors that my father was having an affair?”

She was quiet for a moment. “Interesting,” she said, sounding intrigued. “I haven’t.”

“My neighbor across the street insinuated that he might have had a mistress.”

“Anything’s possible,” she said, as though still considering the idea. “But tongues haven’t been wagging about it. I suppose you would know better than most.”

I wasn’t going to confirm or deny why he’d really left. That was up to him. As far as I knew, he didn’t want to give people an explanation. He was letting them come up with theories of their own.

“Do you know if my mother made any new friends over the past month or so?”

“New friends? She knew everyone in town and had long since decided whether they were worth her time or not. And as we both know, new people in town are a rare occurrence.” She paused and lowered her voice. “Why, do you think your mother had made a new friend?”

“I didn’t say I did,” I countered. “I was merely asking.”

“Do not mistake me for a fool, Harper Adams.” She enunciated each word, each one icier then the last. “Either be honest with me or end this call now.”

Lisa Murphy lived for gossip. But the last time we’d spoken, she’d told me she was capable of keeping secrets, especially important ones. Still, I suspected she used most of what she learned as currency—which meant she couldn’t be relied upon.

I hesitated to tell her about the woman who had been dropped off at my mother’s house, but there was a chance she might know something about her. And that was why I’d called. “I would like to ask you to keep this information to yourself.”

“I believe I previously told you I’m capable of keeping secrets.”

“You did,” I conceded, “but you never specified which secrets you keep and which ones you share.”

“If you want me to keep a secret, Detective, quit dilly-dallying and ask me.”

“And what will it cost me for you to keep this secret? Because I get the impression that anything you know can be gained by someone else for a price.”

She released a chuckle. “Well, you have me there, but I’ll insist on quite a high one for what you’re about to tell me. One most people wouldn’t be willing to pay.”

I considered pushing her, but if she could keep the information to herself until I solved this, then it wouldn’t really matter. “All I ask is that you don’t sell it for a week. Then it’s fair game.”

Malcolm shot me a long look, but I ignored him.

“Confident you’ll have this all wrapped up in a week, huh?” she asked with a laugh.

“It sounds like you think there’s something to investigate.”

“I never pretended otherwise.”

“What do you think happened to my mother?” I asked.

She was silent for a moment. “I’m not sure,” she finally said, not sounding as haughty as before.

“My best guess is she was leaving town, and in her haste, she drove off the bridge in the rain. Everyone knew she hated driving in any kind of bad weather. But when you get down to it, the real question is why she was leaving.”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” If I could discover what had driven her to pack a suitcase for multiple days, I suspected it would either point me toward the killer or at least in their direction.

“I had no idea she was going anywhere. She didn’t tell me, and she wasn’t answering her cell phone when I tried to call her last week. ”

“She didn’t have one of those apps that tell you where somebody is? Like Life 360?”

“My mother barely used her cell phone.” Although if she’d known about that app, she might have used it to track my father. “One of the neighbors said a woman showed up at my mother’s house last Tuesday and then she and my mother got into my mother’s car a few minutes later and drove off.”

“And you’re trying to find out who this woman was?”

“Yes. I don’t recognize her, but then again, I don’t know everyone in town.”

“Let me guess who told you about her,” Lisa said slyly. “Becky Comstock.”

I saw no reason to hide it. “Yes.”

“Well, if she didn’t know who she was, I likely won’t either. Becky’s a snoop and a gossip.”

A surge of disappointment washed through me. “And a spy. She has multiple video cameras pointed at my mother’s house.”

She released a short laugh. “Don’t go feeling all that special. I suspect she has cameras pointed at all her neighbors. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has game cameras set up all over town.”

“If I send you a photo of the woman, would you take a look and tell me if you’ve seen her or not?”

“Of course, but don’t get your hopes up.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. If something untoward happened to Sarah Jane, then of course I’ll help however I can.”

My head was beginning to throb, so I pressed the heel of my hand to my temple. “Lisa, other than my father leaving, have you heard any other rumors about my mother?”

“No. I didn’t even know she was taking an antidepressant.”

I blinked in surprise. “How did you find out she was?”

“Dr. Duncan’s nurse, Zoe, told her cousin, who told Linda Gill.”

“And Linda told you?”

“Not exactly.” She was silent for a moment. “It came out at the funeral luncheon.”

Of course it did. “And what was my father’s reaction?”

“He didn’t look pleased, but he also didn’t contradict her.”

My mother was probably rolling in her barely covered grave, and I felt a strange surge of protectiveness.

But if Dr. Duncan’s nurse was spreading the information, I could use it to my advantage to get information.

I could threaten to press charges for breaking HIPAA if she didn’t tell me how my mother had gotten her prescription.

“What’s Zoe’s last name?”

“She’s a sweet girl, Harper,” Lisa cajoled. “Don’t be bringin’ trouble on her head. She’s a bit na?ve, but she meant well.”