Treasured Legacies (A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery) by Terri Reid Page B

waiting for people to call me, I wanted to make sure that when I found
you, you would have the perfect room.   So, I painted your bedroom pink.”
    She looked over at him. “You painted my room at Mary’s pink
too,” she said.
    He nodded, taking a moment to gather his emotions before he
spoke. “I always wanted you to have a pink bedroom,” he said. “It just took
longer than I thought it would.”
    “How does that make you feel, Clarissa?” Dr. Springler
asked.
    “Not so afraid,” she said.
    “That’s great,” she replied. “That’s all I want to do for
today.   But you all have homework. I want
you to each take one of these notebooks and I want you to write down your
feelings about your family, not just happy ones, but also angry ones or sad
ones.   Be very honest. Can you do that?”
    The three nodded their heads and picked up notebooks.
    “When would you like to see us again?” Mary asked.
    “Well, I’d like to see Clarissa next week,” she said. “But
in the meantime, if there are any major issues or problems, feel free to call
me.”
    “We will,” Bradley said. “Thank you.”
    She handed Clarissa one of her cards. “And this is just for
you,” she said. “If you ever feel really sad or angry, I want you to call me.
Okay?”
    Clarissa nodded and smiled. “Okay, I will. I promise.”

Chapter Twenty
    Mary sat on the couch; her feet curled up beneath her, a cup
of tea next to her and pulled out her laptop.   She glanced up to watch Bradley come down the stairs. “Is she asleep?”
she asked.
    He nodded. “Yeah, after you left I only had to read one more
chapter until she was fast asleep,” he said, sitting on the couch next to her
and pulling her into his arms. “How are you feeling?”
    She leaned back and snuggled against him. “I’m a little
tired, but overall I feel good,” she said. “Today was a good day.”
    “Well, good after you could escape the house from the fumes
of the noxious peppers and onions,” he teased, kissing the side of her neck.
    “Don’t remind me,” she chuckled. “But dinner was amazing.”
    “Yeah, it was pretty amazing, if I do say so myself,” he
boasted. “It’s amazing what these hands can do. Pick up a phone, dial a number
and then drive to Imperial Palace for take-out.”
    Laughing softly, she felt herself relax against him. “Well,
I’ve been craving sweet and sour chicken,” she admitted. “So, you were my
hero.”
    “It’s so easy to be your hero,” he said, reading over her
shoulder at the notes on the screen. “Now, tell me about the case you’re
working on, if that will be helpful.”
    “Actually, yes, it would be great just to get things
straight in my mind,” she said. “Dale Johnson; a really nice
man, great family, hardworking, salt of the earth type. He winds up dead
at the bottom of a grain bin. The family decides to treat it like a farm
accident —that’s what they tell the Sheriff’s Office.”
    “So, no investigation, nothing criminal?” he asked.
    “Right, no law enforcement brought in,” she replied. “Just one of those things. But, it seems that in the back of
their minds everyone is suspicious of everyone else.   No one believes that Dale would close himself
inside a silo.   No one believes that it’s
merely coincidental that his death occurs just when it would be advantageous
for them to sell the property.   A sale that he was against.”
    “So you have motive for murder,” he said, as he lifted his
hands and massaged her shoulders.
    She purred softly. “That feels so good, but it’s really not
helping me concentrate.”
    He chuckled into her ear. “Just relax and let the thoughts
flow freely.”
    “Okay, but wake me when I start to snore,” she replied. “So motive. The banker whose job was on the line and was
dating the daughter said the sale was the keystone to the whole project.”
    “So the banker is a suspect. He had motive and opportunity.”
    “Yes, he did,” Mary said. “But he