Chapter 2

“Where?” Jeff asked, putting his arm around Spence’s waist.

“Right past that tree, according to the police. They thought the assailant had hidden behind it, waiting for a victim, then accosted them. When Dad resisted and Mom screamed for help, he shot them. The woman who lived there—” he pointed to the house on the other side of the path, “—called 911 when she heard Mom and the shots. By the time the police got here, it was too late, of course. My folks were dead and the killer was long gone.”

“Isn’t it always that way,” Jeff said with a shake of his head, before suggesting, “Let’s go get something to eat.”

“A good idea,” Spence agreed. He took another look at the path, then at the house, as they returned to the car. “I think I’m going to call the realtor in the morning.”

“Why?”

“I want to go inside to see…” Spence shrugged. “What’s changed, I guess. There weren’t any interior photos on the realtor’s website.”

Jeff nodded. “So you said. That always makes me wonder if a place needs so much work the realtor’s afraid to show what it’s like.”

“In this case, I hope it’s only that she was too lazy to take any pictures. Either way, I want to find out.”

* * * *

“Mr. Harden. Mr. Mills. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” Mrs. Brown, the realtor, said, practically gushing. “I’m a huge fan of your books.”

“Thank you,” Spence replied.

“How may I help you?” she asked.

“I’m interested in one of the houses I saw on your website.” Spence gave her the address. “Would it be possible to see it today?”

“If you don’t mind waiting until later this morning. I have to show someone another home in a half an hour. I can meet you there at, say, eleven?”

“That would be fine. We’ll see you then.”

Spence and Jeff killed the time until they were due at the house taking a driving tour of the city. Jeff agreed that it could make a good backdrop for their next book. They arrived at the house a few minutes before eleven to find Mrs. Brown waiting.

“It’s a very nice place,” she said as she unlocked the front door to let them inside. “The previous owners did a great deal of remodeling.”

“Indeed they did,” Spence murmured as he looked around the living room that spanned the width of the house. The short wall at one end, that had once held built-in bookshelves, was now barren—in his opinion—and painted to match the off-white of the rest of the walls. The fireplace was still there, at the other end of the room, with the doors on either side that opened onto the screened-in porch.

Mrs. Brown looked at him. “That sounds as if you’ve been here before.”

Spence smiled. “I grew up in this house.”

“Oh my.” She looked at him in dismay. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t connect your name to that of the people who owned the house before the present owners. They were…” She didn’t seem to want to say the word.

“They were murdered,” Spence said succinctly as he walked through the arch into the dining room. “At least this hasn’t changed.” He continued to what, he told Jeff, had been his parents reading room. The long wall between it and the dining room was empty, the bookshelves it had held were gone now. The new owners must not have been readers. That idea appalled him. Two of the three remaining walls had windows looking out on the back yard and the path. On the fourth was a door that opened onto a small lavatory.

“The present owners completely redid the kitchen,” Mrs. Brown told him.

“So I see,” Spence replied. The appliances were all brand new, and the built-in benches and kitchen table from his childhood had been replaced by a center island with a granite top that matched those of the counters.

“Would you like to see the upstairs?” Mrs. Brown asked.

“Of course.”

It hadn’t changed as much as the ground floor, other than the wall colors in the three bedrooms. The bathroom had a glassed-in tub now, and the sink and toilet were new as well. “A vast improvement,” Spence told Mrs. Brown, remembering the rather old-fashioned ones he’d grown up with.

“Did they do anything to the attic?” he asked, opening the door to the stairs leading up to it.

“They turned one end into a playroom for the kids,” she replied. “The other end was used for storage. Everything is gone now, of course.”

He took her word for it, then they went down to the basement. Other than a new furnace, and the washbasins under the windows on one wall, it was empty.