Free Evil in the 1st House by Mitchell Scott Lewis Page B

to play Sherlock Holmes.”
    â€œI’ll bet. But you love it, don’t you?”
    He shrugged.
    â€œHow about a cup of coffee?”
    â€œThat would be nice. It was a long drive.” He followed her into the kitchen. Catherine had inherited the house from her uncle shortly after they got married and they had spent as much time there as schedules allowed. They usually had the holidays there with the kids. Thanksgiving in the woods just seemed so much more appropriate than on East Eighty-third Street. This was their family home. He wondered how many times they had sat in this room through the years. “Andy’s right. The place looks great.”
    â€œI’ve been sprucing it up a bit.”
    They sat at the counter in the center island as Catherine poured two cups of pre-made brew. “How about a slice of pie? I’ve got a fresh organic cherry I just picked up from the farmer’s market.”
    â€œYou know I’ve never been able to turn down cherry pie.”
    She cut two slices and put them on small plates, then sat. “How have you really been, David?”
    He ate a bite, and then sipped his coffee. “Okay. It’s been a busy summer.”
    â€œI know. The rock ’n’ roll murder case must have been exhausting.” She took a bite of pie. “What are you working on now?”
    He told her about Dr. Williamson, the twins, and the million dollars.
    â€œWow, that’s some story.” She sipped her coffee and looked at him intently. “This must have been a very difficult case for you, dealing with the potential death of his son. I’m sure it brought up a lot of things.”
    He nodded. “Yes, I think it’s made me revisit Robert’s death more than I realized.”
    â€œIs that why you took it? It certainly wasn’t for the money.”
    He ate more of the pie. “I suppose so. I haven’t really thought it all out yet. But, no, the money wasn’t the motivation.”
    She nodded. “Is that why you wanted to come up?”
    He shrugged. “I always try to come up this time of year to visit him.”
    Melinda came down the stairs and entered the kitchen. She was dressed in blue shorts and a matching shirt. She walked over to the counter, took a cup, and poured herself some coffee from the pot. “Should we go soon? I’d like to be there while there’s still daylight.”
    Catherine finished her coffee and put the cup in the sink. “Let me just get a jacket.” She went upstairs and returned shortly wearing a stylish brown cloth jacket with wide lapels and a multitude of seemingly useless pockets and zippers. “I’m ready when you are.”
    Andy was outside waiting for Lowell’s instructions as they walked out of the house.
    â€œBoss, you want me to drive you?”
    Lowell shook his head. “No, I think we’ll walk. In fact, you’re off the clock now. If I need you I’ll call. Please make yourself at home.”
    He nodded. “I’m going to stay with my cousin over in Phoenicia, a few minutes away. Let me know if you need me. I can be here in no time.” He got in the limo and took off.
    The family walked silently the mile or so to the outskirts of town, lost in their own thoughts.

Chapter Thirteen
    There was a slight chill in the air as they stood by the grave. Nobody said a word. There wasn’t anything to say. Robert’s grave was well kept; Catherine saw to that. She put fresh flowers there every week and paid extra for a caretaker to trim the grass and keep an eye on things. It was on a small rise overlooking the town. Their heads were bent in private solemn contemplation.
    Lowell glanced up and noticed a man leaning against a tree watching them. There was something amiss in the man’s manner that bothered Lowell. He looked over at his family, somber and introverted, his feelings of protectiveness rising to the surface. His hand