The Sixth Man (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 5)

“I’ll take that bet,” said Sean with an air of confidence.

Michelle shot him a glance before gazing up at the house. Somehow the woman had materialized on the porch seemingly without making a sound. Michelle, who had perfect vision and hearing, hadn’t seen or heard anything.

“You must be Sean King. I’ve been expecting you,” said the woman. Her voice was deep but still remained feminine. It was an assured voice.

When Michelle’s boots hit the top step of the porch she did something she almost never had to do with another woman. She had to look up. The lady must have been at least six feet tall in bare feet. She was lean without an ounce of fat on her frame. And even though she wasn’t exactly young anymore, she had retained the physique and the graceful movements of a formidable athlete.

They had to be related. Same eyes, same nose, obviously the height factor. The only differences from Edgar Roy were the color of the hair and the eyes. Her hair was light brown and the eyes were green instead of black dots. The green was less intimidating.

And obviously she could talk.

Sean put out his hand. “We’re sorry for coming by so early, Ms. Paul,” he said.

Her long fingers enveloped his hand and then she waved his apology off. “This isn’t early, at least in these parts. I saw your truck out there at five this morning. I would’ve gotten you to come in for some breakfast, but you were sleeping and the lady here was doing her business in the woods.”

Michelle looked at Kelly Paul with a mixture of admiration and astonishment. “I’m Michelle Maxwell.” She shook hands with Paul and came away respectful of the woman’s grip.

“Would you like some breakfast now?” she asked them. “I’ve got eggs, bacon, grits, biscuits, and good, hot coffee.”

Michelle and Sean glanced at each other.

Paul smiled. “I’ll take your famished looks as a yes. Come on in.”

The interior didn’t have a homey feel to it. It was minimally furnished, but was clean with simple lines one would have expected from the exterior. She led them down the hall and into the kitchen that was sturdily and plainly built out with old appliances. There was a fireplace set against one wall that looked as old as the house. Another fireplace was in the front room.

“Have you lived here long?” asked Sean.

“By local standards, no. It’s a typical little farmhouse. But that’s what I wanted.”

“So where did you move from?” asked Sean.

She reached out a hand and flicked on the coffeepot, then pulled a bowl and skillet from the cupboard.

When she didn’t answer, Sean said, “You said you were expecting us?”

“You called me last night. I recognized your voice when you spoke outside just now.”

“But I didn’t speak to you before you said I must be Sean King.”

Paul turned around and pointed a long-handled wooden spoon at Michelle. “But you spoke to your partner here. I’ve got excellent hearing.”

“How’d you know we’d come to visit you? Or that we even knew where you lived?”

“Coffee will be ready in just a minute. Can you pull down some plates and cups from the cupboard right there, Michelle?” She pointed to her left. “You can just set them on the kitchen table right here. I’ve eaten but I will have coffee. Thank you very much.”

While Michelle got the dishes, Paul tended to the eggs and bacon sizzling in another pan. Grits simmered in a closed pot, and Sean could smell the biscuits rising in the oven.

“Got a Smithfield ham in the refrigerator. I can fry that up too if you’d like. Nothing better than a salt-cured Smithfield.”

“The bacon will be fine,” Sean said.

When it was ready Paul filled their plates with food and apologized that the grits were instant. “Otherwise, it would be a while, I’m afraid.”

She sat down across from them with her cup of coffee and watched with what looked like sincere pleasure as they ate.

Sean glanced at her every few seconds. Kelly Paul had on khaki pants, a worn denim shirt, a light blue jean jacket, and beige Crocs that seemed too small for her long feet. Her hair was shoulder length and tied back in a ponytail. Her face was fair and relatively unlined. He estimated the woman to be in her early forties or perhaps even younger.

When they had eaten their fill and she had topped off their coffee cups, they all sat back, looking expectant.