The Edge

Bing thought for a few moments, running his hand through his hair. “Maybe last year, or the year before. I assumed she was busy with whatever she was doing.”

“And what do you think she was doing?”

“Serving her country in some capacity. The actual details of what she did have made for some lively discussions at the local watering holes up here, I can tell you that.”

“Dak said that the remote workers have really turned the prospects of the town around.”

“They’ve certainly helped.” He grinned wryly. “Although most of the recent influx are too young to have much need of my services. Yet.”

“Do you have any thoughts on who might have killed her?”

Bing leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his slender chest. “I think I just assumed that it had something to do with her work. I mean, why would anyone up here want to kill her? She wasn’t really part of our lives anymore. The only real connection was her brother and sister and all that property.”

“Property that some may want to develop. And pay a pretty penny for it.”

Bing looked surprised. “Really? Who told you that?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not,” said Bing, looking confused and, to Devine’s mind, nervous.

“I assume you handled Mrs. Palmer’s funeral arrangements?”

“Yes, yes we did. It was terrible. Bertie’s death stunned all of us. And the fact that no one was held accountable? It just makes it even more horrible.”

“And I understand her son and daughter-in-law died in a house fire?”

“Yes. That was about, let me think, fifteen years ago now.”

“What happened?”

“No one really knows for sure. Steve was a smoker, so that’s what we all thought had happened. At least initially. It was early summer but we had a cold snap and turns out they’d been having trouble with their furnace. So they were using one of those old portable heaters without any safety or cutoff features, you know the kind that if they tip over and catch something on fire your whole house can go up in about a minute? So maybe it wasn’t his smoking. I wasn’t working at the funeral home then, but my uncle told me that it was a challenge making them viewable. Ended up being a closed casket. No one wanted to remember them that way. Their daughter, I think, was away or something.” He paused. “But why are you asking about that?”

“Because it has loose ends. Like the person who hit Mrs. Palmer and fled the scene.”

“But those two events were fifteen years apart. And one was a tragic accident and one was a hit-and-run.”

“And now Jenny.”

“Again, I don’t see the connection.”

“Well, I don’t either, to tell you the truth. Maybe there is none.”

“I wouldn’t think so. I mean, stuff like that does happen.”

“Yeah, but this little town has had more than its share of ‘stuff,’ don’t you think?”

Bing just shrugged. “Well, good luck with your investigation. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

“I will.”

Devine left, got into his SUV, and drove back to the inn. And all along the way he was wondering why Earl Palmer had been offered up as the one to find Jenny’s body when he could not have possibly seen it. Whoever was behind this had not thought that one through. But then again, until Devine had come along, everyone had just accepted what the old man had said at face value.

Maybe I am good at this. Or maybe no one else really wants to find out the truth.

Chapter 34

Harper and Fuss were waiting for him when he returned to the inn. The two cops didn’t look happy, and he felt sure he was about to find out why.

Harper said, “Heard you went to see Earl Palmer today.”

“News travels fast.”

“Can I ask why?”

“He was the one who found Jenny’s body. I had follow-up questions.”

“Like what?” asked Fuss, giving him a look that Devine didn’t really care for.

“Just the standard stuff.”

“Learn anything new?” asked Harper, his hand resting on top of his baton.

“I don’t know. I have to think about it.”

“You were over at the funeral home earlier, too,” said Fuss.

“Minutes ago and you already know. You guys need to apply to work for CIA.”

“Cut the crap, Devine. What are you trying to get at?” demanded Harper.

“Same as you, the truth. We all just have our own methods of getting there, apparently.”

“You seem to doubt that Earl found the body,” said Fuss.

“Well, if you mean do I think it odd that he looked down to see the body, only the guy can’t look down? Then yeah, I have some doubts. You should too.”

Harper eyed Fuss and said, “What do you mean, he ‘can’t look down’?”

The man seemed to be sincere, thought Devine, or else he was an excellent liar. “A couple of cervical spinal fusions that went bad. He has severely restricted range of motion. Thought Guillaume would have told you. You obviously saw her at the funeral home and she told you that we had met.”

“You’re wrong. We didn’t talk to her,” said Fuss. “We saw both your cars in the parking lot when we passed by on our way here.”

“Okay.”

“Now what about Earl?” asked Harper.