“Ah,” Chet said. “That could be embezzlement, maybe with money laundering. Give it to the church, write it off your taxes, money is given back to you by someone in the church. Janet found out about it. Murdered to make her keep her mouth shut.”
“She reorganized a doctor’s files,” Kate said.
Jack put his hand up to keep Chet from speaking. “Someone spread an STD. Could ruin a marriage or two.”
Kate said, “What if she found something hidden inside Sylvia’s house? People are always leaving things behind. Top of closets, fallen behind something. In Chicago, we had a family who moved out and forgot they had an attic. It was full.” She looked at Chet. “We’ve toyed with the idea that Sylvia didn’t commit suicide but was murdered and Janet found out about it.”
“Maybe Sylvia had the bootie,” Sara said. “Sylvia and Janet were besties, so maybe Sylvia told her the story behind the kidnapping.”
“Mom said she saw Sylvia crying,” Jack said.
“I need to know more about this woman Sylvia,” Chet said.
“Very elegant,” Sara said. “Her husband died and someone took the body away. They—”
“He died very unexpectedly,” Jack said. “I wonder if there was an autopsy? We should ask—”
“Sylvia ate oleander,” Kate said. “Janet cried for a—”
“The neighbor’s sons painted Witch on the garage door,” Sara said.
“I heard that, but at the memorial, that woman, Megan, said Janet forgave them,” Chet said.
“We’ve heard contradictions on that,” Jack said. “Megan told us that Janet never forgave any of them.”
Sara’s voice rose. “Everett wrote what was said today. Never trust a writer! Professional liars, all. He is making it up as he goes along. He just needs a punch line.”
“You mean a killer,” Jack said.
“And a kidnapper,” Kate said.
“They—” Sara began.
“Hey!” Chet said. “Don’t mean to interrupt, but could someone tell me the story in a coherent way?”
They turned to Sara.
“Don’t look at me. I tell with pen and paper. I can’t even type a story. As for talking, I’m the pits.”
They turned to Kate. “I sell things. People don’t listen after three sentences.”
They looked at Jack. “Me? Are you crazy?”
“You could sing it to us,” Kate said and that made them smile.
“All right,” Chet said. “I’ll ask questions and you answer them. One at a time. Any paper and pen around here?”
“I think I can find something.” Sara got up and went into her writing room. She returned with a black-and-red Prada bag filled with a notebook, loose paper, pens in eight colors, and a pretty lap desk of pale bamboo.
Chet gave her a look of admiration, put the board across his legs, and took out the pens and the spiral notebook. “Let’s start with stats. Name, birth, where, when, who.”
Sara gave Jack and Kate a look to say, He’s good, isn’t he? then they began telling everything they knew about Sylvia Alden.
They were as concise and succinct as they could be, but they had a lot of info to relay.
After going over the facts, Sara told what she’d read in Sylvia’s books, how they were almost autobiographical. “She kept her pen name very secret. Obviously, there were people she didn’t want to know that she was writing.”
“What did she write at the time of the kidnapping?” Chet asked.