Dying Scream by Mary Burton

could interview them and they’d readily agreed.
    Gage moved to the front door, lighted by a single bulb that sent light pooling on the stoop. He rang the bell.
    Seconds later the lights in the living room clicked on and the door pulled open. The man standing on the other side of the screened door was in his midsixties and had a potbelly and gray hair cut in a crew cut. He wore jeans and a thick blue sweatshirt.
    Gage pulled out his badge. “I’m Detective Hudson. I called earlier.”
    “Yes, sir,” the man said, nodding. “I’m Dwayne Wells. Please come in.” He pushed open the door.
    Gage stepped inside to a neatly kept living room furnished with a green tufted sofa, matching wing-back chairs, and an upright piano. From the kitchen, the sound of water running in a sink stopped and a woman appeared in the kitchen door wiping her hands on a checkered cloth. “Ma’am.”
    Dwayne held out his hand, inviting Gage to sit. “Detective, this is my wife Marie.”
    He nodded. “We met at the Thornton estate today.”
    Marie came into the room. “Can I get you a cola or some sweet tea?”
    Gage nodded his thanks. “I appreciate that, but no, thank you.”
    “Water?”
    “No, ma’am.” Marie reminded him of his own mother. She’d keep offering until he accepted something.
    She looked disappointed and moved into the living room to stand beside her husband. “It’s just awful what they found out there today. Just awful.”
    The three sat, the Wellses on the sofa and Gage across from them in a wing chair.
    “So you’ve known the Thornton family long?” Gage said.
    “Since we were both teenagers. My first job was tending the property. Marie got her start there cleaning for the family. That’s how we met.”
    “And you own a moving company?”
    “That’s right, with my boy, Ben. We do mostly specialized work now. Move art and fine antiques. Travel all up and down the East Coast. My boy oversees most of the day-today operations. I’m doing the paperwork these days. Ruined my back about five years ago.”
    “How’d you get into that line of work?”
    “Through the Thorntons, of course. The old man brought me to work in his gallery. Art needed to be moved and I learned how to do it right. From there the business just grew.”
    “That specialized work keep you busy?”
    “We do just fine. In the last year it’s been a bit slow—the new owner of the Thornton Gallery is farming work out to other companies. But Adrianna started calling us to do some work for her clients. Most of them are rich folks and the furniture they have is expensive, almost like art in some cases.”
    Gage flipped open his notebook. “What can you tell me about the Thornton family?”
    Dwayne and Marie looked at each other, their eyes softening with clear fondness.
    “They was kinda like local royalty,” Dwayne said. “The family’s been in the county for a century and a half. And as I recall, that house was built on tobacco money. Later they switched to banking. Then Robert Thornton’s daddy got them into the art business.”
    “Rich folk from way back,” Gage said with a grin.
    “You bet,” Dwayne said.
    “What do you think about Adrianna selling?”
    Marie sighed. “I don’t think she had much choice. She hasn’t said anything, of course. She’s too loyal to the Thorntons, but the last couple of generations haven’t been the best or smartest workers. Craig, his father and grandfather liked to throw parties and live it up well. Craig and his daddy didn’t always choose wisely when it came to art and ended up selling many pieces at a loss.”
    “How do you know?”
    “They talked. I listened.”
    Dwayne shook his head. “Robert did his best to make that boy in his image.”
    Gage flipped the pages of his notebook. “What can you tell me about Robert Thornton?”
    “Well, he was book smart. And like I said, loved art,” Dwayne said. “Stayed in the city a lot while his wife Frances stayed on the estate. She liked to