Free A Killer Crop by Sheila Connolly

number. She handed it to Patricia. “I should be around for several more days. Any time that’s convenient for you. And if there’s anything I can do ...”
    “Thank you. Listen, we need to get back to the house, but I’ll call you later.”
    Elizabeth stepped back politely. “Of course. Don’t let me keep you.” She turned to leave, with Meg trailing in her wake.
    “Are the boys his sons?” Meg asked as she caught up with her mother.
    “Yes, from his first marriage. The older one is Daniel Junior, but I forget the younger one’s name. They’re both a few years younger than you.”
    “What on earth does she have to talk to you about?”
    “Meg, I can’t tell you. Maybe she wants to know more about Daniel before she met him. Why don’t we just wait and see? Perhaps she was just being polite. She may not follow through.”
    They had nearly reached the doors when a dark figure stepped forward: Detective Marcus. “Mrs. Corey, may I have a word with you?” he asked formally.
    “Now?” Elizabeth said, startled.
    “Yes. Let’s go outside and find a place to sit.” He led the way out of the church. Elizabeth glanced at Meg, an eyebrow raised, and Meg could only shrug. Conveniently there were several long benches arrayed along the outside wall of the church, and the detective gestured toward one safely away from foot traffic. Meg sat at one end of the bench, leaving the middle for her mother. Marcus waited until they were both settled before sitting at the far end.
    There was a cold lump in the pit of Meg’s stomach. Part of it was due to her history with Detective Marcus: despite a recent thaw between them, she still felt intimidated—even irrationally guilty—in his presence. That probably made him a good cop, but it didn’t make him easy company. How would her mother stand up to his interrogation, if that was what this was?
    Marcus was studying Elizabeth’s face. Elizabeth met his eyes, but Meg was troubled: normally in a social situation her mother would have filled the silence with light and amusing chitchat, but clearly Elizabeth had recognized, if belatedly, that this was truly serious.
    Marcus cleared his throat. “We’ve received the preliminary autopsy results. Daniel Weston’s death was a homicide.”
    Meg froze, watching her mother. Elizabeth shut her eyes, and when she opened them to look at the detective, they were wet with tears. “How . . . ?” she whispered.
    “I can’t say,” Marcus said.
    Elizabeth cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, her voice was level and controlled. “I’m sorry to hear that, but what does that have to do with me?”
    Detective Marcus’s expression didn’t change. “Mrs. Corey, I don’t think you were completely frank with me the last time we spoke.”
    “Why would you say that?” Elizabeth’s expression, like his, gave nothing away.
    “You came up here without letting anyone know—your husband, your daughter—to meet with someone you said you hadn’t seen in, what, thirty-plus years? And then he ends up dead. That’s kind of a big coincidence, don’t you think?”
    “But that’s what it is—a coincidence,” Elizabeth protested. “I have no knowledge of his death. Haven’t you interviewed his wife? His friends?”
    “Of course I have. His wife knew next to nothing about you, although she did manage to dig up a few old pictures he’d kept when I asked. I’m guessing they’re of you and your husband with Weston.” He passed a plastic sleeve with a couple of curling photos across the table toward Elizabeth.
    Elizabeth took it and glanced briefly at the photos, then nodded. “Phillip and I were married shortly after those pictures were taken. As I told you before, Patricia is Daniel’s second wife, and until the memorial service today, I had never met her.”
    “Don’t you find it curious that he picked this particular time to contact you?”
    “Why?”
    “It’s the beginning of the school term, which is always busy for