These Shallow Graves by Jennifer Donnelly Page B

agenda?” he asked.
    Jo took her father’s agenda out of her skirt pocket and handed it to him.
    He copied down the notations for September 15— Kinch, VHW, 11 p.m., Eleanor Owens, b. 1874, and noted that September 17’s and October 15’s were identical— Kinch, VHW, 11 p.m.
    When he was finished, he said, “What if your uncle’s wrong? What if Eleanor Owens was your father’s mistress? She tries to blackmail him. He refuses to pay her. She comes to the house late one night. He lets her in, takes her to his study, and she brandishes a gun, maybe just to scare him. It goes off accidentally. She puts it in his hand and—”
    â€œRuns out of the house through two locked doors?” Jo offered.
    â€œWhat about the study’s windows?” Eddie asked. “The police didn’t mention anything about them in their report. Were they locked?”
    â€œNo. The locks are old and don’t work anymore, but they don’t need to.”
    â€œWhy?” Eddie asked.
    â€œBecause the windows themselves are old and can’t be raised very high. Perhaps only a foot or so. Papa only had them opened on the hot days, so they would’ve been closed the night he was killed. Plus they’re quite high. The study’s on the second floor, above the ground and first floors. I would guess the windows are twenty feet off the ground, which would make for a long drop.”
    Eddie sighed. “Fine. The logistics don’t work, but she’s still a suspect. How about the name Kinch?” he said. “Had you ever heard your father mention it?”
    â€œNo, but since it’s a single word I wonder if it might be the name of a ship instead of a person.”
    â€œWhat could a ship have to do with this?”
    â€œI have no idea,” Jo admitted. “What about the man I saw looking up at my father’s window? What if he’s the murderer? He certainly looked like one.”
    â€œHe could be a suspect, but we still have the same problem. How’d he get in and back out again?”
    â€œWe don’t have anything, do we?” Jo said, discouraged. “Only a murderer who must be a phantom because he can move through locked doors, or make himself invisible, or … Oh. Oh my God. ”
    Jo felt as if an icy wind had just blown right through her.
    â€œWhat is it?” Eddie asked, his eyes fastening on hers.
    â€œHe was there, Eddie,” Jo said. “In the study. The killer was there the whole time!”

“Slow down, Jo. Start at the beginning,” Eddie said. “You’re talking so fast I can’t follow you.”
    Jo took a deep breath, let it out, then tried to speak slowly. “The curtains,” she said. “The killer was hiding behind the curtains.”
    Eddie leaned back in his chair; he gave her a skeptical look.
    â€œThey’re wide and puffy and they puddle on the floor. I often hid behind them as a child. My entire household could hide behind them. And that’s where I found the bullet. … Don’t you see?”
    â€œYes, I think I do,” Eddie said, sitting up straight.
    He locked eyes with Jo. His gaze was electric. Suddenly they had a piece of the puzzle in their hands, and they both knew it.
    â€œThe killer came into my father’s study late at night—” Jo began.
    Eddie cut her off. “How did he get into the house?”
    â€œHe got hold of a key somehow.”
    â€œUnlikely. The four keys were all accounted for, remember? Maybe your father let him in. Because he knew him.”
    â€œOr her,” Jo said darkly.
    Eddie nodded. “They go to your father’s study. The killer shoots him. He finds your father’s revolver and puts it in his hand. He hears footsteps overhead. Your mother’s. He panics. He knows he can’t leave the study—he’ll be seen.”
    It was hard for Jo to imagine the scenario of her father’s death,