"So, how dumb do we play?" Dom asked. "Just how much information do we share with the sheriff?"
"Almost everything. No reason not to. After all, it's obvious that Booth knows almost everything. "
"You still think someone close to Ms. Beaumont is feeding Booth info?"
Jed nodded. "I've pretty much ruled out the Rowleys and I don't think Joy Loring is bright enough. Besides, she has no motive. My gut instinct tells me that Elsa Leone would never betray Grace."
"So that leaves the uncle and the rejected suitor."
"The report Sawyer sent on both of them didn't give me a clue." Jed had hoped a red flag would pop up in either Willis Sullivan's or Hudson Prentice's life, but that wasn't the case. "Uncle Willis is a solid citizen. He's respected and admired by all who know him. And Prentice is a golden boy, with an almost genius IQ. The guy's never gotten so much as a speeding ticket."
"They both sound too good to be true, if you ask me."
Before Jed had a chance to respond, two patrol cars pulled up in front of the open gate. Three men emerged from the vehicle. One, older, dressed in civilian attire, issued orders, then walked over to Jed and Dom.
"I'm Sheriff Adams. Want to tell me what happened here?"
"Are you sure I can't get you anything, Miss Grace?" Laverna asked for the fourth time in the past thirty minutes.
"Nothing, but thank you." Grace peered through the window in the front parlor, wondering how long it would take Jed and Dom Shea to finish up with the sheriff's department.
"Why don't you and Nolan go on back to bed. There's really nothing you can do for me."
Kate Malone cleared her throat. Grace looked at her questioningly.
"They might want to stay up a bit longer," Kate suggested. "My guess is the sheriff or one of his deputies will come on up to the house and ask all of us some questions."
"Oh, my!" Gasping, Laverna clutched the neck of her cotton housecoat.
"Don't fret," Nolan told her. "We don't know anything and we'll tell them so."
"Perhaps I should put on some coffee." Muttering to herself, Laverna meandered out of the parlor and down the hall.
"If you don't need me, Miss Grace, I'll go with Laverna. This whole murder thing, right at our doorstep… well, almost at our doorstep… has rattled her something awful."
Grace patted Nolan's shoulder. "You go on with Laverna. I'm all right. And after she fixes coffee, go to your quarters. If the sheriff needs to speak with y'all, I'll come get you."
"Yes, ma'am."
Once the elderly couple was out of earshot, Kate said, "They seem to be very devoted to you."
"They've been with our family for over three decades. They were here at Belle Foret before I was born." When she moved, Grace swayed slightly, her equilibrium momentarily unbalanced. Stress, she thought. The calm, orderly world in which she'd existed for over three years now had abruptly exploded into danger and violence.
"You look a bit unsteady on your feet. Why don't you sit down? If you'd like a drink, just point me toward the liquor cabinet."
"You've been so kind." Grace glanced out the window. Again. "But I don't think I can sit. And if Sheriff Adams is going to question me, I don't want him to smell liquor on my breath."
Kate laughed. Grace gave her an inquisitive stare.
"Sorry," Kate said. "I've lived in Atlanta for so long that I've almost forgotten what it's like to live in a small town and be concerned with what everyone thinks."
Grace smiled. "One's good reputation is priceless."
"I suspect that's a direct quote from your mother or grandmother."
"My grandmother," Grace said. "My mother's mother. I barely remember her. She died shortly after my sixth birthday, but I distinctly remember her imparting little pearls of wisdom whenever she came to visit."
"With me, it was my aunt Bernice. Pretty is as pretty does was one of her favorites."
"Where did you grow up?"
"A little town called Prospect. It's in Alabama, but it's not thirty miles from the Georgia border. A lot of the Old South remains, you know. Kind of like here in St. Camille."
"Sounds like we may have some things in common," Grace said.
"We probably do, only I've never been as rich as you are, Ms. Beaumont." Kate grinned. "My husband's family had money, but after our divorce I had to return to work to make a living."
"Do you have children?" Grace asked, then when she noted the sad expression in Kate's eyes, she regretted having asked. "I'm sorry. That was a personal question and none of my business."
"It's a perfectly normal question." Kate eyed one of the twin sofas that faced each other in front of the fireplace. "Let's sit down. Okay?"
When Kate sat, Grace joined her. But the nervous tension dancing along her nerve endings made her antsy. She felt as if a thousand tiny feet were jitterbugging inside her. It was all she could do to simply sit still.
"I don't have any children," Kate said.
"Nor do I."
Kate hesitated, as if she were uncertain she should reveal anything more personal about herself. Finally she said, "You and I do have something else in common. I lost a child, too. Years ago."
Grace studied Kate Malone and surmised that the woman was near her own age of thirty. "You must have been very young."
"I married at twenty-one, gave birth to my daughter when I was twenty-two and lost her before I turned twenty-three. That was eleven years ago. I'm thirty-four now."
"My daughter was stillborn." Grace placed her hands in her lap. The pain was still there, only dulled slightly by time and by sensing Kate's true understanding-the type that only another woman who had experienced such a loss could know.
"I guess people are always telling you that you should marry again and have another child," Kate said. "I heard that for years. I still get that type of advice every once in a while, from some well-meaning acquaintance."
Grace sighed. "Ms. Malone… Kate… I was wondering…?"
"What were you wondering?"
Kate faced Grace, who saw only compassion and caring in the other woman's honey-brown eyes. She knew why this shrewd Dundee agent had begun talking to her about personal things-it was to get her mind off the fact that a man had been murdered and deposited at her front gate. Her motives didn't really matter, although they were completely kind, because Kate had, for a few brief moments, succeeded. But she'd done more than that, she'd shared a painful part of her past, which couldn't have been easy for her.
"Is the reason you've never remarried, never had another child, because you're afraid of being deeply hurt again?" Grace watched Kate closely, hoping to see the truth in her expression. She believed that she wasn't alone in her fear; that her thought process wasn't totally irrational.
"That's one of the reasons," Kate admitted. "I'd like to think that if the right man ever came along, I'd deal with the fear. To be honest, I don't know what I'd do. I'm more afraid of having another child than I am of loving another man, but…" Kate's voice trailed off. She glanced away, then cleared her throat.
"I appreciate your sharing your feelings with me. I don't suppose you meant to get so personal when you decided to try to take my mind off what's going on down at the front gate tonight. But if it makes you feel any better, your being here and our talking has helped me a great deal."