River Road by Jayne Ann Krentz Page A

to do that,” Mason said.
    Becky took herself off to seat two more customers who had appeared in the doorway.
    Mason looked at Lucy and lowered his voice. “Just out of sheer curiosity, what the hell were you thinking by accepting Jillian’s invitation?”
    “I’m thinking that a Colfax family gathering is an excellent place to start asking a few questions,” she said.
    “Damn,” Mason said. “I was afraid of that.”
    Deke looked interested. “What kind of questions do you plan on asking?”
    Mason exhaled slowly. “She doesn’t think that the car crash that killed Sara and Mary was an accident.”
    “Well, hell,” Deke said. He said it very, very softly.
    “I was willing to accept that verdict at first,” Lucy said. “Accidents happen. But now I’m working on the theory that Sara’s and Mary’s deaths are linked to the shares of Colfax Inc. that I inherited.”
    “Huh,” Deke said. He looked intrigued.
    “Must be something about being back in Summer River,” Lucy said. “Brings out my suspicious side.”
    “Yeah, mine, too,” Mason admitted.
    Deke looked at him. “Hell, you’ve been suspicious your whole life.”
    “Same with you,” Mason said. “Probably in the blood.”
    “Probably,” Deke agreed. He turned back to Lucy. “Got any evidence of this theory of yours?”
    “Three dead people, all of whom are in one way or another connected to Colfax Inc.”
    Mason picked up his coffee cup. “As the only professional investigator present, I feel obliged to point out yet again that one of the deaths occurred thirteen years ago and in all probability is unrelated to the deaths of Sara and Mary.”
    “I’m aware of that,” Lucy said. “And as I told you, I agree with you. But still, there are three deaths.”
    “Are you going to mention your theory to Chief Whitaker when we talk to him this morning?” Mason asked. His tone was neutral, but there was a sharp, watchful curiosity in his eyes.
    “No, not yet,” Lucy said. “He’ll want proof. In my experience, the cops and the courts prefer a nice chain of evidence.”
    “In your experience?” Deke asked.
    “A large part of my job with Brookhouse Research consists of gathering solid evidence to prove or disprove the claims of a lost or missing heir. Trust me, that requires a clear trail, because there is usually a lot of money at stake. People are always willing to fight very hard in court to get their hands on hard cash.”
    “I don’t doubt it,” Deke said. “Folks get killed on the street for a few bucks or a little dope. No telling what they’d do for a cut of a multimillion-dollar inheritance.”
    “It’s true I don’t deal in gunshot residue and blood-spatter patterns,” Lucy said. “But I have to track down things like birth, marriage and death certificates that can be used to build a family tree that might go back several generations. I use immigration and census records. Draft registration records. Military service papers. Property records and wills and trusts and so on. Believe me, I know what it takes to build a case.”
    Mason glanced at the yellow pad. He did not look impressed. “And that’s what you’re going to try to do here in Summer River?”
    “Yes.” Lucy pulled the yellow pad closer in a protective gesture. “In my line, it always comes down to the family.”
    Deke narrowed his eyes. “Given that the family you’re dealing with controls a fortune—not to mention a lot of what goes on in this town—it might be a good idea to keep your little theory just between the three of us, at least for now.”
    “Don’t worry, I intend to do just that.” Lucy collected the yellow pad and her tote. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got things to do.”
    “Where are you going?” Mason asked.
    “Got a big day today. First I have to get ready for our interview with Chief Whitaker, and then I go shopping.”
    “You want to
shop
?”
    “For something to wear tonight. I didn’t bring any evening