Page 2 of Memory of Murder (Colby Agency: The Next Generation #3)

Aurora, Illinois

Griffin Residence

Anne Griffin smiled as she ended the call. The job was hers!

Her smile stretched into a happy, relieved, grateful grin. “I got the job!”

She tossed her cell phone onto her desk, set her hands on her hips and walked to the window that overlooked her small, enclosed backyard.

A celebratory cocktail and a few minutes of relaxing was in order, she decided.

The weather was perfect, and that new chaise lounge on her little flagstone patio was calling her name.

With a deep breath, she padded to the kitchen and prepared her favorite drink.

Three fresh strawberries went into the glass, along with a generous serving of lemonade and then a splash of vodka.

Just a little. It was early for a cocktail, but it was nice to celebrate now and then.

After all, this was her first really big contract since going out on her own at the beginning of the year.

These last few months had been a bit of an uphill climb, professionally speaking. Thankfully she’d been prepared for a period of little or no income. But recently, knowing her savings would soon be gone had her a little nervous. Luckily, she had also braced herself for the doubts that would arise.

How many times had she second-guessed her decision? Far too many. It was the curse of a worrier.

She lifted her glass in a silent toast. But all those uncertainties were behind her now.

Griffin Interior Concepts was officially off the ground and running.

Her scant client list was expanding. So far most of the work had been smaller scale—a kitchen or bath remodel, the occasional principal bedroom and one over-the-top screened-in porch.

But this contract was big. Really big, as in a whole-house renovation.

The owners had narrowed their choices to three designers, and Anne had been one of them.

Two weeks ago, all three designers had submitted fully developed plans and cost estimates.

To be honest, she’d been incredibly thankful to even be in the running.

And now the job was hers.

She did a happy dance and then sipped her drink.

A little sun was in order. Far too much time was spent behind her desk lately so she wandered out to her patio.

Her home was an end-unit town house, with a patio slightly larger than most. She had a square of flagstone for entertaining and a little patch of grass.

Shrubbery and flowers formed a pleasing border against the fence.

It was really quite lovely. She couldn’t complain.

Frankly, any more than this would take up too much of her time in maintenance.

Building a business, she needed every available minute to keep the momentum going.

One day, when she had more employees to do the leg work, she wouldn’t mind having a larger home and garden.

“One day,” she repeated aloud.

With a sigh, she settled onto the chaise lounge and enjoyed her fruity drink. After she figured out a late lunch she would take a drive to the exclusive neighborhood where her first whole-house reno would be taking place. A few more shots of the home wouldn’t hurt. Maybe a walk around the block.

Another grin tugged at her lips. Taking on the project would be like buying a major ad campaign.

This couple was very involved in the community.

The wife was a social media influencer, so she would certainly use the renovation as fodder for her numerous posts and reels.

The couple socialized in real life a lot as well.

Their big parties were widely known—and promoted on her media pages.

Anne couldn’t be more delighted at the idea of how much publicity this one job would provide.

To top it off, she was being paid particularly well for the work. A truly win-win situation.

For the next few moments, she considered the steps she needed to take moving forward.

She would make a call to each of her go-to contractors and see how this job would fit into their schedules.

There was at least one floor tile she would need to get ordered as soon as possible.

Thankfully the scheduling of contractors wouldn’t be much of a problem.

The clients were busy people who traveled a good deal of the time, particularly in the summer.

So getting the work done wouldn’t be nearly as difficult as it was when clients were home, trying to live and/or work around construction. That part was always tricky.

The doorbell drew Anne’s attention back to the present. It was a miracle she’d heard it. As she got to her feet she noted that she’d left the French doors ajar, which was likely the only reason she had. Knowing her new client, it could very well be a congratulatory flower delivery.

She walked inside, finished off her drink and put the glass in the sink before making her way to the front door.

One of the things she loved about this town home was that the entire downstairs was one large open space.

There was a short hallway that led to a powder room and drop zone for coats and shoes, but all else was wide open.

The floating staircase to the left of the front door led up to an exposed second-floor hallway and the bedrooms—one of which she had turned into an office.

It was everything she needed while staying in budget.

Budgets were particularly important when deciding to go into business for oneself.

Before opening the door, she checked through the security viewfinder to get a look at the visitor.

Male. Tall. Dark hair. Broad shoulders. Navy trousers with a matching lightweight business jacket, pale blue button-down shirt, open at the throat. No flowers anywhere to be seen.

Salesman, maybe.

Then she spotted the box in his right hand. Perhaps a deliveryman? If so, he was a bit overdressed for the occasion. It wasn’t her birthday, so it wouldn’t be a surprise gift from one of her colleagues.

“May I help you?” she asked through the door.

“Afternoon, Ms. Griffin.” He smiled.

Deep voice. Pleasant smile. Handsome. A little flutter in her belly reminded her that while pinching pennies for this independent business launch, she’d also neglected all forms of social life.

“I’m Jackson Brenner. I work with the Colby Agency.” He removed his wallet from a hip pocket and held his credentials up to the viewfinder. She stared at the photo that was indeed him. “I’d like to speak with you, if you have a few minutes.”

The Colby Agency. A frown furrowed her brow. She had no idea what sort of business he represented. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Brenner. I don’t know what your agency is or does.”

Certainly, she had no clue why someone from said agency would be at her door. Unless he was selling insurance or something else she did not need.

“The Colby Agency is a private investigations firm, ma’am. I’m here about your mother, Mary Morton.”

Anne drew back as if the words had been stones flung at her. A barrage of confusing emotions twisted inside her. Mary Morton was dead. Why would anyone be contacting Anne now? Surely there was some mistake.

“I was informed that she passed away.” Anne eased closer to the viewfinder once more.

“Yes, ma’am. That’s why I’m here. Your mother left some personal items intended for you.”

Anne’s gaze shifted to the box once more.

She bit her lip. From time to time since she was a teenager she had been approached by reporters, even a private detective once.

All had wanted to question her about her mother and the murder.

None had wanted to help Mary Morton in any way.

It was all for documentaries or books that served only the person pursuing the research.

The best stories were always about cold-hearted monsters, and the hope had been that Anne would reiterate that idea about her biological mother.

In reality, Anne knew nothing about the murder or her biological mother.

She had never met Mary Morton. Obviously when she was born in that prison infirmary she had been with her mother for a brief time.

Not for even a moment since then. They had never met and they had never spoken.

Anne had nothing to add to the woman’s painfully sad story.

“I’m afraid I’m not clear on what it is you’re delivering.” She still wasn’t ready to open the door and deal with whatever this unexpected visit actually involved.

“I understand your hesitancy, ma’am.” His voice was soft, his face kind. “But I assure you this is something you will want to see and hear.” He shrugged. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be knocking on your door. The agency doesn’t do this sort of thing unless there is a very good reason.”

Anne drew back once more. What could it hurt?

She would hear what he had to say, accept the box and then send him on his way.

Ten minutes at most. She still had to call her assistant, Lisa, and tell her the good news about the contract.

There was much she had to do. A stroll into a past she didn’t recall or understand was not part of her agenda for the day.

Determined not to allow this strange development to dampen her spirits, Anne opened the door. Just get it over with and move on . Once he was on his way, she could go back to celebrating.

“Come in.” She opened the door wider.

He entered, glanced around, then set his gaze on hers. “Thank you.”

Anne closed the door and walked to the center of the room where the sofa and two chairs surrounded a coffee table and fronted a fireplace.

“Have a seat.” She settled into her favorite chair and mentally braced for whatever he had to say.

He placed the box on the coffee table and lowered onto the sofa.

“What’s in the box?” No need to wait for him to begin. The sooner the conversation was started the sooner it would be done.

“Your mother’s personal items.”