That question had to be asked and answered sooner rather than later, and I stuck my neck out to ask it because I was very interested in the answer.
But you would have thought I was a policeman with a rubber hose, one who was furthermore holding their kids as hostages.
"We have to find out," my mother said. "Someone in this office got that key and put it back on the key board. No one here knew I was going to show the Anderton house this morning. I didn't know it myself until last night, when Mr. Bartell called me at home. So it was likely the body wouldn't be found for a long time--how often do we show the Anderton house? Maybe one client in ten can afford a house like that."
For the first time Debbie Lincoln opened her mouth. "Someone," she offered softly, "could have come in when Patty and me were both gone from the reception area."
Patty shot her a look. "We're never supposed to both be gone from the reception area. But there was a period of maybe five minutes this morning when both Debbie and I were not there," she admitted. "While Debbie was in the back copying the sheet for the Blanding house, I had to visit the ladies' room."
"I walked through while no one was there," Eileen said immediately. "And I didn't see anyone coming in from outside."
"So that narrows the time someone could have come in by a few more seconds," I observed.
Mother said, "It would have to be someone who knew our system and could find the right hook for the Anderton key very quickly."
"Every realtor in town knows where our key board is, and that we label every hook alphabetically," Mackie said.
"So you're saying whoever returned the key is another realtor, or one of you," I pointed out. "Though I think anyone coming into the office could figure out the key board in seconds. But it does make more sense for a realtor to have returned it, to have realized not having the key on the board would have alerted us much sooner than the key being there. It's just bad luck for whoever killed Tonia Lee that Martin Bartell wanted to see some big houses this morning, and that he called Mother at home last night after the office was closed."
Again I was aware of my lack of popularity as the people around the table realized they'd just been boxed in.
"All right," said Patty defensively and illogically, "where is Tonia Lee's car? Why wasn't it at the Anderton house this morning?"
That was another interesting question. And one I hadn't thought of... nor had anyone else in the room.
"It's parked behind Greenhouse Realty," said a new voice from the door. "And wiped clean of fingerprints."
My old buddy Lynn Liggett Smith, making another of her silent entrances.
"Your daughter-in-law told me to come on back," she told my mother, who had a particularly nasty gleam in her eye. I didn't think Melinda would be asked to answer the phones anymore.
Lynn was a tall, slim woman with short brown hair very attractively styled. She wore little or no makeup, always pumps or flats, and plain solid-color suits with bright blouses. Lynn was brave and smart, and sometimes I regretted that because of Arthur we would never be good friends. Lynn was also the only detective specifically designated "homicide" at the Lawrenceton police department; she'd served on the Atlanta police force before taking what she thought would be a lower-stress job. She hadn't counted on Detective Sergeant Jack Burns.
"When did you find her car?" Mother was scrambling to regain her composure.
"This afternoon. Mr. Greenhouse knew it was there this morning, but he didn't think that was important, because he thought Mrs. Greenhouse had driven off in someone else's car. He just plain didn't know where Mrs. Greenhouse was, and when she didn't come home last night, he thought she was just spending the night with someone else. I gather it's common knowledge she was prone to do that sort of thing." Lynn had made a little pun, and she gave me the ghost of a smile.
"But today Mr. Knight has told us that Mrs. Greenhouse's car was in the driveway of the Anderton house last night, so she got there under her own steam. Someone, presumably the murderer, drove that car to Greenhouse Realty and left it there out of sight of the street." Lynn cocked her head and scanned our faces.
The absence of the car would have been noticed by Donnie Greenhouse, just as the absence of the key would have been noticed at our office, sooner or later. But the murderer had had bad luck, no doubt about it.
"So," Lynn continued, "who put the key back?"
"My daughter brought that up, too," Mother said smoothly. "We have decided that at one point this morning, early, someone could have entered the reception area without being seen."
"How long a time would this one point have lasted?"
"Five minutes. Or less," Patty Cloud said reluctantly.
"No one wants to 'fess up, I guess," Lynn said hopefully.
Silence.
"Well, I'll need to talk to each of you separately," she said. "If you all have finished your meeting, perhaps I could just stay in here? I'll start with you, Mrs. Tea--No, Mrs. Queensland. That okay?"
"Of course," Mother said. "Back to your work, the rest of you. But don't leave until the detective has a chance to talk to you. Rearrange your appointments."
Beside me Idella Yates sighed. She picked up her briefcase and pushed back her chair. I turned to make some remark and suddenly realized Idella had been crying silently, something I have never mastered. I caught her eye as she dabbed at her cheeks with a handkerchief.
"Stupid," she said bitterly. Feeling rather puzzled, I watched her leave the room. If Idella and Tonia Lee had been friends, it would have surprised me considerably. And Idella's reaction seemed a little extreme otherwise.
I made my own exit wondering where I would wait for my turn with Lynn. My mother's office, I decided, and started down the hall.
A young woman was standing in the reception area. I vaguely recognized her as I went through on my way to the left-hand corridor that led to Mother's office.
"Miss Teagarden?" she said hesitantly. I turned and smiled with equal uncertainty.
"I believe I met you at the church last week," she said, holding out a slim hand. I jogged my memory.
"Oh, of course," I said, none too soon. "Mrs. Kaye."
"Emily," she said, smiling.
"Aurora," I told her, and to her credit, her smile barely faltered.
"Do you work here?" she asked. "At Select Realty?"
"Not really," I confessed. "It's my mother's agency, and I'm trying to find out a little more about how the business works." That was close enough to the truth.
Emily Kaye was at least five inches taller than I, no great feat. She was slim and small- breasted and dressed in a perfect suburban sweater and skirt and low-heeled shoes ... and her purse matched, too. Her jewelry was small, unobtrusive, but real. Her hair was golden brown and tossed back from her face in a smooth, well-cut mane.
"Did you like the church?" I asked.
"Oh, yes, and Father Scott is so nice," she said earnestly.
Huh?
"He is so good with children," she went on. "My little girl, Elizabeth, just loves him. He promised he'd take her to the park soon."
He what?
All my senses went on full alert.
"You're so lucky," she said.
My stare must have made her a bit nervous.
"To be dating him," she added hastily.
So she'd been doing some research. I was thinking a number of things, so many that it would have taken a long time to have completed each thought.
Aubrey loved children? Aubrey had already visited his new parishioner and invited her little girl to the park?
"You play the organ, don't you?" I said thoughtfully.
"Oh, yes. Well, not very well." She was lying through her teeth, I just knew it. "I did play for the church in Macon." Suspicion confirmed.
"You're--excuse me, you're a widow?"
"Yes," she said briskly, to get quickly over a painful subject. "Ken died last year in a car wreck, and it was hard to live in Macon after that. I don't have any family there, we were there just because of his job ... but I do have an aunt, Cile Vernon, here in Lawrenceton, and she heard there was a teacher's job available at the kindergarten here, and I was lucky enough to get it. So now I'm house-hunting for a little place for Elizabeth and me."
"Well, you came to the right realtor," I said, trying to brighten up the conversation and not give way to my deep suspicions. I had a feeling that if I looked over Emily Kaye's shoulder, I would see writing on the wall for my relationship with Father Aubrey Scott.
"Yes, Mrs. Yates is so nice. I'm really looking seriously at a little house on Honor right by the junior high school. It's just a couple of blocks from the kindergarten, and there's a preschool for my little girl nearby, too. Of course, I'd really like to quit work and stay home with Elizabeth," she said wistfully.
That writing got darker and darker. Sure she would.