“What did you say to Clancy last night that sent him running out the door?”
Evie snorted. “Fine, blame it all on me. I can’t even say hi to someone without being accused of whatever happens to them next.”
Like her mother, she didn’t show irritation but wandered over to admire the view from the windows. Jax knew she could see the sheriff from that position and was probably checking hisaura.
The sheriff waited her out.
Apparently not finding anything to worry about, Evie shrugged. “I didn’t sayanythingto Mr. Clancy. He’s never acknowledged my existence and last night was no different. But I daresay he wasn’t pleased to learn he had genuine opposition for the mayor’s race.”
“Your mother was already running. He knew he had opposition.”
Evie gestured carelessly. “He’d lined up the water company to turn off my mother’s mains. The city used that tactic, among others, to drive my mother and her neighbors from the trailer park. He knew she wasn’t any competition. She’s withdrawn from the race already. That was why she was at city hall.”
“You don’t think she was angry about that tactic?”
Evie laughed. “Sheriff, you’ve known Mavis longer than I have. You tell me, have you ever seen her angry?”
“I know Mavis and she does get angry,” Troy said bluntly. “She just hexes people and scares them half to death.” He put his notebook away. “Tell her to be careful who she hexes next.”
“You don’t seriously believe my mother hexed Clancy to death?” she asked in apparent disbelief. “How did he die?”
“You’ve already heard that from one of the secretaries.” Troy returned his hat to his head and nodded at Jax. “Welcome to Afterthought. And don’t let her call me every time you annoy her. My dogs don’t appreciate it.” He let himself out.
Jax couldn’t lean back in his folding chair, but he did his best and gazed up at Evie expectantly.
Her bright smile dimmed as the door closed. “Clancy theoretically committed suicide—with a gun to his head, just like Pendleton.”
* * *
“There’s a cat at city hall.”Cousin Iddy poured a glass of tea and swirled it. “I could see if it noticed anyone go into Clancy’s office.”
They’d sent Loretta to bed before holding their family conference. The storm had cleared the air earlier so it was possible to breathe with the Victorian’s large windows open. The ceiling fan pulled in a nice breeze. Evie set out a plate of store-bought cookies. It was too hot to bake.
Gracie grabbed a handful. Her sister’s telekinetic abilities didn’t often apply to these discussions.
“If you find out about anyone, I can check them out,” Pris offered, petting Psycat, Evie’s Siamese. Tonight, Pris had added gold glitter to her mouse-brown hair. One of these days, Evie was going to figure out what her cousin was trying to convey through hair color.
“We can get Clancy’s phone records,” Roark suggested. His glass held something stronger than tea.
Evie was almost desperate enough to hold a séance, except she didn’t know what spirit to call. Clancy’s ghost would be too new to reach out, she suspected. But she ought to try. Or maybe she should do like the mystery book psychics and see if his spirit lingered where he died. She’d only dealt in old ghosts. Even Loretta’s parents had been dead half a year before she met them.
Reuben had winched the Morris chair out of the attic but not delivered it to the office yet. Jax sat in it now with his computer tablet. His wide shoulders fit comfortably against the huge chair back. A page started printing from his little printer on the coffee table. “Or we could just learn more about Clancy’s connections and who might be breathing down his neck hard enough to make him off himself.”
“He was murdered, dear,” Mavis said from her rocker in the corner. She fed Honey one of the cookies. ”He chose his friends poorly.”
Reuben snatched the page of Clancy’s connections from the printer, scanned it, and whistled. “Dude, you way better off outta S&S.”
When he passed the paper to Roark, Evie sighed and swiped the tablet from Jax to scan the list. “Clancy has always been an investment broker. That’s not new. What does that have to do with S&S?”
“Check out his client list,” Jax suggested, sipping his beer.
“Half the rich white guys in town.” Evie shrugged. “Town council. Your accountant landlord. Your predecessor, George Norton—although one assumes that account will go to Norton’s family in Charleston.”
“Scroll down,bébé,” Roark suggested. “Them’s just da newer ones.”
Her sister snapped the paper from his hand. As a teacher, Gracie understood lists well.
Evie figured out how to use the touch screen and scrolled down. There was Jax’s former law firm. “Allthe lawyers at S&S? Or the firm itself?”