Secrets in a Still Life, Kari Ganske [best fiction books to read .TXT] 📗

as revenge for fishy business practices in Mike's seafood distribution. Except I'd never know because numbers made my head swim. I clicked a picture of a few of the sheets with my cell phone, then moved to the desk drawers.

Locked. Locked. Locked. Every last one of them. Darnit. I contemplated trying to pry the doors open for a nanosecond, then realized that was both out of my wheelhouse and totally obvious. I reached under the desk to see if he had taped an extra key underneath. A ripped-up document in the trash can under the desk caught my attention. Really the word DNA on one of the pieces caught my attention. I reached in to grab the ripped sheath of paper.

It looked like the results from a mail-away DNA ancestry kit. Those were a big hit at Christmas this past year, so not surprising that the Vandenburgs would have one. Out of curiosity, I held a few of the ripped pieces together.

"Where was your family from, Mike? Were you related to Nazis? Or were you on the right side of history?" I said to the empty room.

Except the name on the top wasn't "Michael Vandenburg"; it was "Jodie Poledark." Why would his sister-in-law's DNA results be ripped up in Mike's trash can? I tried to hold another piece together in place, but a sound from the hallway had me shoving the small pieces in my clutch and racing to the door.

The doorknob twisted under my fingers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 30

 

 

 

I did the only thing I could think of—pulled open the door quickly. Mike Vandenburg stumbled right into me. Jodie stood right behind him, her bloodshot eyes open wide in surprise.

"Oh, goodness. I'm so sorry!" I cried. "Can you point me to a bathroom?"

"It's off the foyer," Mike said skeptically.

I didn't wait for any follow-up questions. Just gave a little finger wave as I moved past Jodie and walked away without looking back. I didn't stop, or breathe, until I caught up with Linc and Colleen in the great room. They stood huddled together drinking what looked like martinis.

"There you are," Colleen exclaimed when I approached. She handed me her glass. "Here, you look like you need this more than I do."

I took a big gulp and almost choked. "Is this an appletini?"

Linc rolled his eyes and nodded. "Signature cocktail. Apparently, it was Missy's favorite drink."

"Doesn't surprise me," I muttered. "Who has a signature cocktail at a memorial service? Isn't that usually reserved for weddings and bachelorette parties?"

"Why do you still look so pale?" Colleen asked, ignoring me. "You were supposed to, like, splash cold water on your face or something. Instead, your eyes are the size of saucers."

"We should probably go. Like now," I said, looking over my shoulder toward the hallway from which I came. "We need to go now."

"What's gotten into you?" Linc asked.

"I'll tell you in the car. Then you can tell me what you found out."

"We haven't talked to anyone but Mike so far," Colleen whined. I knew she wanted to play spy a little longer.

"Is Kelly even here? Or was she smarter than me and stayed home?" I asked, scanning the crowd while trying to look like I wasn't scanning the crowd. I took another small sip of the overly sweet drink in my hand.

"I don't think she's here," Linc said. "At least I haven't seen her. We could mingle, though. See what everyone is talking about."

By the looks the partygoers threw my way, I would bet my new 85mm prime lens that I was what everyone was talking about. Still, I was curious about the gossip. And even if—and that was a big if—Mike noticed the DNA results missing from his trash can, they may not even be connected to the murder.

"She's overthinking things again," Colleen whispered to Linc.

"I heard that," I said, but relented. "Fine. We'll take the long way out and hover by some conversations to hear what we can hear."

"That's the spirit!" Colleen said on a laugh. "Eavesdroppers unite!"

I gave her a rueful look and followed them around the room. Okay, more hid behind them, than followed, but I'd never admit it to them.

Snippets of conversation floated our way:

"So sad. Gone too young..."

"... never know what tomorrow will bring..."

"Patsy's already gone back to school. Can you imagine?"

"Jodie is staying here to help with the kids..."

I tucked that last one away. If Jodie moved in here with Mike to help watch the kids, then that might explain how her mail ended up in the trash can. I relaxed a little. Why would someone pay all that money for a DNA test to just throw it away? Then again, who knew why most people did most things? For all I knew, the company sent duplicate copies or a hard copy and a digital copy.

Someone stopped Linc to ask about repairing the sign. I turned my back to the conversation, hoping I wasn't recognized as the sign killer. When I turned, I met Jodie's eyes from across the room. I put on my best "My condolences" face—or at least I hoped I did. Jodie nodded once, and then her slightly unfocused eyes drifted away from me. She looked terrible, as I knew anyone who lost a sibling would look, especially one they were particularly close to. Her hair was a little out of place; her cheeks tear-stained and pale. She fidgeted with a bracelet around her wrist, turning it around and around by the little charm that hung from it. I made a mental note to reach out to her when she had a little more time to process. Since I, too, had lost a sibling, perhaps I could help her through the initial grief.

Just then I felt a warmth on my lower