20. Brampton’s Breakfast Surprise

She was putting her tablet away, sorting out things to leave but she stopped and looked up sharply.

“Why? What’s happened?”

“There’s a surprising new suspect.”

A muscle tightened in her back. “Another suspect? Oh lord. I thought we had two prime suspects in Deborah and Grant, now you say there’s a third?”

“A strong one.” He was pleased to have her attention so completely. “I wanted to know who paid for Shaye Alderson’s funeral. It was pretty basic, medium-priced, but there’s no immediate family, and this is a murder investigation, so I called the funeral home. Fred Falcone’s place, do you know him?” Kathy shook her head. “I do, and he was happy to fill me in. Hold onto your hat.”

Kathy could see he was enjoying himself. She waited patiently for his big reveal.

“Shaye has a half-sister, Madeline Saunders,” he said. “A long lost, newly found half-sister.”

“Okay,” said Kathy slowly. “That’s news. Why is she a suspect?”

“They only found out about each other two years ago and met for the first time last year. Madeline Saunders is in rough financial shape, lots of money worries, so I’m not sure how she paid for the funeral.”

“And that makes her a suspect?” Kathy asked.

He nodded. “Seems Shaye changed her will to leave all her worldly goods to this Madeline, a small investment account, her house and car, about half a million bucks when it’s liquidated.”

“Wow, even without financial trouble that would be a motivator,” said Kathy, adding, “for the wrong person.”

She relaxed back into the red leatherette booth and raised three fingers. “So now we’ve got three deadly sins as possible motives.” She tapped her index finger. “Lust! Call it passion, for Grant.” She tapped her middle finger. “Envy for Deborah who desperately wanted Shaye’s position at work.” She tapped her ring finger. “Greed from this new character, Madeline Saunders.” She put her elbow on the table, rested her chin on the three fingers. “And any one of them could be our murderer.”

Brampton pushed his empty plate aside looking thoughtful. Kathy spoke. “Where does she live, this Madeline? I can go and have a chat with her. What do you think?”

“If you’re willing, that would be great. “I’m reluctant to bring in a grieving relative for questioning, not without good cause. I have no idea if she knew about the will, so before I make headlines by dragging in a weeping sister, I’d appreciate you talking to her.”

“Give me her address and phone number,” said Kathy, waggling the three fingers at Sandy. “I’ll call and set up a meeting.”

21. Suspect Madeline Saunders

Kathy phoned ahead to set up a meeting. Sometimes showing up unannounced worked well, other times it thrust people into defensive mode. She made it clear she was investigating Shaye’s untimely death.

Madeline Saunders had been gruff, belligerent even, on the phone and Kathy was careful not to push. She sympathized with her loss, was apologetic about bothering her, explained her interest in the case, leaving out the fact that she’d actually found the body, and assured the woman she would not stay long. It was a three-hour drive, but Kathy knew it had to be face to face.

As Kathy hung up, she wondered the chilly attitude usually meant the woman had something to hide.

She was happy driving down the highway, pleased to be leaving the city. She took a detour onto a road that ran parallel to the highway so she could go slower and enjoy the view of open fields and crops. There might even be some horses. It was summer, a fine, clear day.

She rolled down the window and enjoyed the breeze in her hair. She thought about Sandy Brampton. He was such a nice person, and she could feel his interest in her. She noticed when he moved toward her, as if he was going to touch her, then stopped himself. Could they take their relationship to the next level, wander off in the direction of romance? Someday she would have to find out.

When she reached Kingston, she maneuvered her way through unfamiliar streets until she found Smith Falls Avenue. She drove almost to the end, slowing down to read the numbers and stopped outside 233, a small, rather shabby brick bungalow.

Outside the car she smoothed her skirt, grabbed her purse and took a moment to slip into her objective interviewer mild neutral posture. Madeline might be watching.

As she neared the door, sure enough she saw a young woman standing a little way back from the open door, behind an old screen door, watching her approach. Pleasant looking, brown hair pulled back in a neat bun, she wore a grey nurse’s uniform but her feet were bare. She pushed open the screen door.

“Hello Kathy, I’m Madeline Saunders.” Kathy noticed the casual use of her first name and the more formal introduction of herself. “Please come in and have a seat.”

The living room was drab but tidy, a loveseat and two armchairs arranged on a peach paisley rug – identical to the one in Shaye Alderson’s cottage, minus the bloodstains.