Peg lifted a hand to her throat. “Who?” She scarcely managed a whisper.
“We don’t know. That’s why I hope you will talk to me.”
“Here I come, ready or not.” Keith flew across the uneven ground, threw himself toward Peg.
She caught him. “Do you want to swing?”
“Way high.” He darted toward the swings.
Johnny followed Peg to the swings. She settled Keith into the plastic seat. “Hold on tight.”
Johnny grabbed the chains, drew the swing back, gave a mighty push.
“Hold on.” Peg’s cry was anxious.
Johnny was relaxed. “He’s okay. Mitch’s boy can handle being up high.”
As Johnny pushed and the swing rose, Keith squealed in delight.
Peg looked at Johnny gravely. “Who was Kim meeting?”
He didn’t answer directly. “As you know, Kim called the heirs under the other will and asked them to come to Farrell’s office. Your mother, you, Tucker, Gina, and Harrison Hammond.” His eyes fell. He added reluctantly, “Or the chief thought she could have called Dave.”
Peg stood stiff and still. “Why would she call Dave?”
Johnny gazed toward the lake, avoiding her eyes. “The chief knows all about you and Dave and Dave wanting a loan from Susan. Kim called somebody. It had to be someone who was at Pritchard House Saturday night.”
Peg nodded, her eyes filled with foreboding.
“The chief thinks Kim told somebody about the new will and agreed to keep it hidden. For a price. That’s why the meeting was set up last night. Kim was supposed to bring the will.” Finally, he faced her, his gaze both hopeful and uncertain. “Kim was in school with you and me and Gina and Tucker and Dave.” He looked a little wry. “Between school and work, I didn’t have a lot of free time to run around. She was part of the popular crowd so I don’t know who she was close to.”
Peg folded her arms, stared at the ground.
“Who would she tell about the new will?” Johnny gave the swing a push.
Peg’s lips trembled. “I don’t know. How can I know? She used to be Gina’s best friend. She was at our house a lot. We hung around together, Kim and Gina and Tucker and Mitch and Dave and Ellen and me. Kim knew everyone who was supposed to inherit, one way or another. She knew us too well.” Peg’s voice was faint and reluctant. “She knew my mother was obsessive about Pritchard House. She knew Gina was always broke and desperate to pay her bills. She knew Tucker didn’t want anybody telling him what to do with Burnt Creek. She probably knew Harrison was in financial trouble because Kim’s dad had done work for Harrison. It could be any one of us, except”—she drew a deep breath—“I know it wasn’t Dave.”
Some of the vigor seemed to drain from Johnny’s posture though he tried to look positive. “Well, sure. I mean, I know you and Dave are a couple. Obviously, Susan wouldn’t have considered making a loan unless…Well”—he sounded uncomfortable—“I understand that you’d stick up for him.”
She looked at him in surprise, flushed. “Not for the reason you think. I know he didn’t because of what he said Saturday night.”
Johnny looked at her sharply.
She spoke rapidly, her face forlorn. “I know he didn’t harm Susan because Saturday night he demanded that I try to persuade her to make the loan. I told him I didn’t want to talk about it. And”—the words came ever faster though her voice dropped almost to a whisper—“when I told him I wasn’t going to take the money, he hung up on me.” Her face was white and strained, she was clearly humiliated. “But anyway he wouldn’t have asked me to keep trying with Susan if he’s the one who poisoned her.”
“Peg”—there was anguish in his voice—“I’m sorry.”
Her head jerked up. “You don’t need to be sorry for me. I should have known Dave wasn’t interested in me. He always dated really popular girls. He never paid any attention to me until last spring. I should have known he wanted Susan’s money, not me.”
He reached out, gripped her arm. “Dave’s a fool.”
Her eyes shiny with tears, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Johnny.” But the light fled from her eyes. “I wish I could believe that Kim called Dave. But I don’t. That means Kim called someone I know and love.”
“He’s as likely as anyone.” Johnny was emphatic. “Sure, he asked you to talk to Susan. Maybe that figures. Nobody said this murderer is stupid. But you’re right about one thing: she called someone who was at the house Saturday night. That’s why I want you to tell me what you know about Kim and the others. Who did Kim know well enough to take the chance of saying, ‘I’ve got something here that might interest you. Susan Flynn wrote out a new will, leaving everything to Keith. It came in this morning’s mail. Do you think I should put it on Wade’s desk?’ Whichever one she spoke to, she made a big mistake. Kim didn’t know Susan had been murdered.”
Peg’s face was abruptly merciless. “I hated Kim.”
Johnny looked at her in dismay, his open face shocked.
Peg caught the swing as it lost momentum. “Last swing today, Keith.” She helped him hop to the ground. “Race from here to the slides and back and it will be time to leave. See how fast you can go.”
Keith dashed away.
Peg’s hands clenched into tight hard fists. “Kim was reckless and greedy and a cheat. I always thought she encouraged Gina to spend more money than she had. Maybe that’s not fair. Gina still buys and buys and buys. In high school, Kim flirted with anybody, everybody. Mitch was crazy about Kim. She was the prettiest girl in the junior class. Mitch was wonderful, but having him wasn’t enough. She always wanted more. She was the one who made Mitch mad that night. She was running around on him. Mitch found out and lost his temper. He stormed out. That’s why Ellen died. Worst of all”—Peg’s voice was flat and empty—“Kim was cheating with Tucker. We never let Susan and Tom know that it was Tucker. Tucker dropped her immediately. I wasn’t sure whether he was sorry at what happened or if he had never cared about her and only used her to make a fool out of Mitch.”
Out of breath, cheeks flaming, Keith ran full tilt at Peg. She caught him up and turned away, hurrying across the playground to her car.
Johnny lifted a hand, took a step after her, then stopped. With a frustrated shake of his head, he walked swiftly toward the police cruiser.
Never be late for a wedding or a funeral. I was at St. Mildred’s a good fifteen minutes before the service. Unseen, I stood in the narthex near the side table with pamphlets about church teachings. The casket, covered with a cream and silver pall, waited near the central aisle. The church was filling quicky. Susan Flynn’s many friends had come to bid her farewell.
I always found the order for the burial of the dead beautiful and comforting: God is our hope and strength, a very present help in trouble.
I saw every mourner who entered. I felt a rush of relief when Leon Butler arrived. He looked solemn and unaccustomedly formal in a old blue suit which likely hung in his closet most of the year. He sat on the Gospel side of the sanctuary near the back.
I sped outside. The parking lot was full and cars were parked on both sides of the street. I finally found Leon’s battered old pickup near the entrance to the forest preserve. I flowed into the passenger seat and opened the dash compartment. It held maps, a tool kit, receipts, and a large half-eaten Hershey bar with the wrapper neatly folded back over the open end. I fished out a receipt from Hanley’s Hardware. Now I needed something to write with. I had almost despaired when my fingers touched a stub of a pencil.
I placed the sheet on the dashboard and quickly wrote on the back of the receipt:
Mr. Butler—It is urgent that I speak with you about Susan Flynn’s will. After the funeral, please meet me in the forest preserve at the end of the pier. Thanking you in advance for your cooperation—Susan’s friend whom you met Saturday night.