Most Likely to Die (A Kate Jasper Mystery) by Jaqueline Girdner Page B

be good. I wondered if her husband was included in the order.
    Once we got down the hill, I headed my Toyota back toward downtown Gravendale. Jack and his family lived in a house nearer to town than Elaine. One of the original Gravendale homes.
    “Did I tell you that Jack and his family are living in the house that he grew up in?” I asked Wayne.
    He shook his head. “I thought it was Aurora’s house.”
    “Well, it was originally,” I explained. “But now Aurora is living in some kind of experimental community. At least, I think that’s what she said when she called to talk to me.”
    “Huh,” Wayne muttered, his brows rising with interest.
    “Wayne, why is it that everyone always has to talk to me?” I demanded abruptly. Irritation over my role as confidant had buzzed into my mind like a demented bee. Because this wasn’t the first time this role had been demanded of me. “Aurora wants ‘to talk.’ Becky had ‘to talk.’ Charlie. Elaine. And Pam—”
    “Because you’re easy to talk to,” he replied quietly, cutting me off mid-diatribe.
    “I am?” That was a new one on me.
    He turned to me, his vulnerable eyes amused and liquid with affection at the same time.
    “You really listen,” he assured me. “You’re curious about other people. And kind. And you probably were the same twenty-five years ago.” He smiled. “It’s your own fault.”
    “It is not,” I objected. “I’m not kind. Well, sometimes I’m a pushover.
    “Co-dependent,” Wayne muttered under his breath.
    “But it’s like I have this sign printed on my forehead that says ‘tell me about it.’ I swear. When I was living in the city and taking the bus to work, every single human being with a personal problem would sit next to me and tell me their story. I began to wonder if I looked like a therapist. A nun even told me she was afraid she was losing her vocation. And one day I got a wife talking about leaving her husband and the next day I got her husband. I was sure of it. They had the same kids and everything. At least no one ever confessed to any serious crimes. I’d started worrying about confidentiality—”
    Wayne’s laugh rumbled out, surprising me from the depths of my speech.
    “I’m serious,” I insisted, but I couldn’t help smiling. In memory, it was kind of funny. Now that I didn’t take the bus anymore.
    Then Wayne took on a serious look himself. “Let me state something for the record,” he announced. “I never knew Sid Semling before your high school reunion.” He paused, then added, “To the best of my knowledge.”
    “You didn’t have to tell me that,” I objected. “It was enough to hear you tell Elaine.” But even as I spoke, I knew I was glad he’d made the statement. I could feel it in the release of tension in my shoulders.
    I would have hugged him to make my acceptance of his statement official, but my hands were on the steering wheel. And we were close to the Kanicks’. We passed onto a block with older houses on regular quarter-acre lots with well-trimmed lawns.
    I recognized the Kanick house immediately. It was still painted white with green shutters. Only the tree in front looked different. It was an old evergreen that had grown immensely wide but been kept trimmed short to the confines of the electric utility lines. It looked like a children’s drawing of a tree, as broad as it was tall.
    I pulled up to the curb and stared, thinking how strange it would be to still live in the house you grew up in. Would it be comforting? Or traumatizing?
    “If both of Sid’s parents are dead, who inherits?” Wayne asked, interrupting my thoughts.
    “Elaine?” I said, taking my key from the ignition. And a whole new world of motive popped into my mind. The world of money. “But Elaine certainly looked like she had plenty of money and Sid—”
    “Hey, Kate,” a voice broke in from outside the car.
    I saw Becky leaning down toward my open window. Her fragile face looked drawn and serious