Free Dying to Read by Lorena McCourtney Page B

progress in finding Willow, leaving out dead body, unauthorized entry into Amelia’s house, missing jewelry, suspicions about Willow, a strong-armed painter, and a missing wedding ring. That didn’t leave much, but she firmly repeated to herself that there was no need to worry Uncle Joe with those details now.
    “Anyway,” she ended brightly, “I’m on my way now to talk to a friend of Willow’s. But what I’m wondering is about Rebecca getting home. May I talk to her again?” Which got Uncle Joe off the phone before he could entangle her in incriminating questions.
    Rebecca said she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d stay, but she’d just catch a taxi home. Cate dropped the phone back in her purse. It clunked against Amelia’s house key. She still had to see about returning that. When she returned to the table, Mitch had the address located on his smart phone.
    “It’s not an area I’m familiar with,” he said, “but it shouldn’t be hard to find.”
    She side-eyed him warily, weighing what she knew about him against the advisability of letting a strange guy into her car or getting into his vehicle. She didn’t see any knight uniform or accompanying white horse. “I’m taking my car,” she said.
    “I’ll follow in mine.”
    She guessed he knew what she was thinking. She gave him points for not trying to convince her of his noble intentions.
    The plan went fine until they reached the street that was supposed to connect with Lexter Drive. It was blocked off, various hunks of yellow heavy equipment looming behind a lineup of sawhorses. She pulled up beside the barrier. Behind her, Mitch turned on the blinkers on his SUV and got out. She opened her window when he walked up.
    “Looks as if they’re tearing up the street to widen it and put in a new sewer line,” he said.
    It was an area of large, older houses that had seen better days but still maintained a genteel dignity in spite of a ripped-up section of sidewalk. A line of stately old trees stood between the remaining section of sidewalk and street. The trees were apparently destined to come down because two already lay on the ground. Down the street several people and a big yellow dog were clustered around the largest tree in the row. The people were looking up into the tree. The dog was doing something else.
    “What’s going on down there?” Cate asked.
    “Looks like neighbors standing around grumbling about their torn-up street. Maybe one of the kids climbed a tree.”
    They looked at his smart phone again and decided that by going on for three more blocks they could circle around the closed-off street and still get to Lexter.
    In those blocks, the ambiance changed to a rather shoddy commercial area. 2782 Lexter was a narrow, two-story white house sandwiched between an auto-repair shop and a tavern with a neon sign that read “icky’s Tavern.” The name looked appropriate, but Cate assumed there was supposed to be another letter up front to make it something else. She was suddenly not sorry she had a guy with a strong arm accompanying her.
    They got out of their vehicles and walked to the door. No red Toyota parked in the driveway or at the curb, but there was a garage where it might be stashed. Lights shone dimly inside the house, but no amount of knocking or doorbell ringing brought any response.
    “I guess that’s it for tonight, then.” Mitch sounded disappointed, which was also how Cate felt. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and we can figure out what to do next.”
    “You have another painting job tomorrow?”
    “I just paint on evenings and weekends. But I can take time off so we can come back tomorrow evening.”
    Cate didn’t recall agreeing to an extended “we” situation, so all she said was a noncommittal, “Well, I’ll see.”
    Just before she reached her car, he touched her arm. “I suppose I should tell you. I didn’t have any trouble reading that return address. Anyone could see it was 2782 Lexter Drive. I was