Jo Ellen shrugged and gave a “you don’t know everything” look that had Vivien bracing. No one gave that look to Maggie Lawson and lived.
“When I was going through Artie’s things, I found an envelope,” Jo Ellen explained. “Roger’s obit was in it, from the Atlanta newspaper, along with a picture of the cottage after the hurricane hit in 1995. It wasn’t completely destroyed, but wrecked.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Maggie said. “He spent seven summers in the house. He probably saw it in the newspapers after the storm?—”
“On the back off that picture was one of those yellow sticky notes with Roger’s handwriting,” Jo Ellen continued, undaunted. “It said something like, ‘I should have waited and gotten it for half as much. Thanks, pal.’”
Vivien sucked in a breath at this revelation. Artie had known her father bought this property? That was news.
Maggie looked just as shocked. “You’re lying,” she announced, pushing up like she wanted to stand up and run.
But Jo Ellen reached across the space and put a hand on her arm.
“Maggie.” She angled her head and sighed. “You know me better than that.”
Maggie shook her head. “No. It’s impossible. Hurricane Opal hitafterhe was arrested. He would never have sent a picture ofthe house to the man who turned him in. You’ve got your facts mixed up, Jo.”
Jo Ellen inched back, creases deepening on her forehead. “Maybe I’m remembering it wrong, but I could have Kate find the note and take a picture. We should leave no stone unturned if we’re going to solve this mystery.”
“You’re right about that,” Peter said. “Have Kate look. And please contact the lawyer to get the oldest files out of storage. I’ll have another conversation with my contact at the Atlanta PD, too, and report back.”
Maggie just took a deep breath, silenced.
Jo Ellen smiled at him. “And I’ll be sure there’s mint chocolate chip for you, Peter,” she said sweetly.
He thanked her with a warm smile, and stood when it was clear Maggie was completely done with this meeting.
Vivien walked him to the door in silence, but as they stepped outside into the morning sun, he put his arm around her and pulled her close.
“I’ve been in prison interrogation rooms with more love,” he whispered.
“Right?” she scoffed. “Can I borrow a bulletproof vest for the next few weeks?”
“You may need it, sadly.”
“It is sad,” she said. “They used to be such good friends, remember?”
“I do,” he said. “Thick as thieves, always joking and cooking and doing some secret sorority handshake. It’s a shame to see them like this.”
She rubbed her arms despite the heat. “With Eli gone and Crista leaving, I’m the only Lawson child to bear the brunt of Maggie’s wrath.”
“I think Jo Ellen’s bearing most of it, but you always have a shoulder to fall on.” He got a little closer to her ear. “Mine.”
She smiled up at him and put a hand on that shoulder, which was broad and strong. “I’ll take you up on that, Detective.”
“Can you sneak out for that dinner this week?” he asked. “Another trip to the rooftop in town or somewhere else?”
“I’d love that,” she said. “Assuming you don’t have anything come up with your case.”
He grunted in frustration, his usual reaction when he talked about the missing person case that had brought him to Destin in the first place.
“Dead ends daily,” he told her. “I’ve been looking for one clue for this guy for, what? A month? But someone claimed to have seen him over in Seaside, which means he could still be around. In the meantime, I gotta eat dinner and I really gotta eat dinner with you.” He gave a wry grin. “You’ll need the escape.”
“Will I ever,” she said. “I do have a new client starting up this week, but nothing that will stop me from seeing you.”
“You do?” His face lit up, obviously happy for her. “I know you went back to Fiona the Fearsome. Did she send you someone else?”
“Fiona’s far less fearsome brother. Remember the guy we thought was conning her but turned out to be her brother? You looked him up and found out he is a hedge fund manager, not a hapless handyman.”
