Free A Dawn of Death by Gin Jones

I've got my own nosy relatives too. Stevie has asked whether I'll hire her to do any renovations we might need if we move in together, and Adam's been trying to get me to talk about my intentions toward you. Who knew kids his age could be so old-fashioned?"
    Helen couldn't quite imagine that conversation. The one way Tate resembled her ex-husband was in his belief that talking about emotions was silly. Feelings were just an inconvenient fact of life, something to ignore in his personal life and to manipulate in his professional life, using them to sway a juror to his side. They definitely weren't something to dissect.
    It wasn't that Tate had no emotions. She'd come to realize it was just that he buried them, hidden behind his poker face. She didn't particularly crave any grand romantic declarations from him—she'd had her fill of them with Frank, who would briefly sweep her off her feet and then take her for granted until the next big demonstration of his appreciation—but she did want to be sure she wasn't reading more into Tate's actions than he intended.
    Of course, she was reasonably sure Tate liked her at least as much as she liked him. Their first date had ended with a kiss that had convinced her of that much, and there had been quite a few more since then.
    "You should do what I do," Helen said, ignoring the ping from her phone. "Threaten your family members with being disinherited if they meddle."
    Tate glanced at the screen of Helen's phone where there was a text from Laura to make sure that tomorrow's visiting nurse appointment hadn't been cancelled. Helen had been lobbying to reduce the visits to once a week, now that she was feeling better, but the nieces weren't convinced yet. A moment later, another almost identical message appeared from Lily.
    "Yeah," he said. "I can see how well that's working for you."
     
    *   *   *
     
    After they'd eaten, Tate returned to his woodworking, and Helen went outside to find Jack waiting for her with the car's engine running. She climbed into the front passenger seat and turned to Jack. "Do you know where Sheryl Toth's current construction project is?"
    "Sure," Jack said. "I've got a cousin who works for her company."
    "Then take me there, please. I'd like to talk to him, find out if there was any friction between the boss and the employees."
    "You think one of them might have killed her?"
    "Not really, but I'd like to rule out the possibility," Helen said. "I'm hoping it was just a tragic accident, but I have a few questions that are bothering me."
    "Sheryl wasn't a bad sort, according to my cousin," Jack said. "Sure, she was blunt, and she didn't tolerate incompetence, but she was fair. Most people around here would even say her developments were good for Wharton. At least as good as any cluster of town houses can be. She's built a lot of affordable housing, starting before state law gave builders special consideration if they included deed-restricted affordable units. It makes buying a house possible for the year-round residents who can't afford the prices that are inflated by the demand from the summer-only residents."
    Jack turned onto a dead-end street, and Helen was immediately bombarded by the roaring engines and piercing back-up beeps of heavy construction equipment. Jack continued past five or six houses nestled among wooded lots and stopped in front of a five-acre parcel of land.
    Until recently, it had apparently been a half-wild meadow dotted with the occasional weedy tree, but now, the front half of it had been completely leveled, with a backhoe knocking down the trees and a bulldozer following in its wake to take care of the smaller vegetation by pushing it to the edges of the parcel like a winter plow would do with snow. In the wake of the two vehicles, the ground was as flat, lifeless, and ugly as an empty parking lot. Helen hoped it would look better once the buildings were done, but she thought they would still clash with the cozy little houses on either