No Gravestone Left Unturned (A Jane Ladling Mystery 2)

So where did Robby bank?

“The problem with larger towns,” Beau said, “you’d have to find someone who looks like you, steal their ID, and learn some basic information. That takes time and commitment. Too much time and commitment for a small payout.”

Unless your motive wasn’t money but revenge. Or to shut up a reporter. If Robby had decided to off Ana for one of her stories, he would have planned ahead. Picked a scapegoat. Jane and/or Blake. Or Jake. A main suspect and a spare. A just in case. And dang it, there must be something to those rhyming names, no matter what Conrad said.

So, the real question was: What did Robby have to hide?

Jane needed more information. A sit down with Ana herself. Which, granted, seemed impossible, considering the journalist was dead and all. But honestly, call Jane an optimist, but she still had hope. A way could be made, even when there appeared to be no path. How many conversations had she, Grandma Lily, and Pops enjoyed since they’d died? Countless. Had they ever responded? No. But it didn’t make the discussions any less affirming.

“Uh-oh. I know that look.” Conrad gently chucked her under her chin. He appeared to be fighting a smile as he toyed with the ends of her hair. “Your nose wrinkles when you get lost in your head. So who’s your main suspect and why? Still the Waynes or someone different?”

Jane did not want to admit the truth. Because yes, more and more she was certain the pair had everything to do with this. Her two-man protection crew would tell her that Abigail, Robby and Landon could accuse her of stalking or something equally nefarious if ever she confronted them, then bend the truth to prove it. But admit the truth she did, risking a scolding. Better safe than sorry this time around.

Personal growth sucked sometimes.

“During the last case,” she said, “Abigail became convinced I’m hiding a fortune in the cemetery. What if the motive behind all of this is just that? The gold. If the Waynes siblings can get me locked away for life for a murder I didn’t commit, they can gain easy access to the Garden. An elaborate set up with an expected payoff.”

“It’s possible,” Conrad allowed. “I’ll talk to Hightower.”

“For the record,” Beau said, “if the bank in the larger town is crowded, you just need the right hair, clothes and build to pass as someone else for an overworked teller. Most people see only what they expect to see. More than that, you don’t have to be a whiz with the latest in camera tech to manipulate what people observe. If you knew their placement and angled yourself accordingly, you could mask most differences.”

Fiona made a twittering sound. “All those instagrammers have a leg up already.”

So. With the right person, it could be done. “This is valuable information, thank you.”

Were they correct? Did people only see what they wanted to see? In person and on camera? Someone would catch the differences between the real and the fake. Like, if some strange woman dressed up as Jane went to her bank to withdraw her (meager) funds, a teller or other official would notice she wasn’t who she said she was. Surely!

Maybe, maybe not. But there was a way to find out…

An idea percolated. An approach to test her theory. Kind of. Adequate, anyway. “Has Ana’s home been cleared for entry?” she asked as casually as she was able.

“It has,” Conrad offered, hesitant as he picked up his needles and got back to work. “Why?”

“Oh. I, uhh—” Well. She refused to lie, but she also refused to admit this particular truth. Baby steps! So where did that leave her?

Fiona rose to her feet. “Oh goodnessdear, look at the time. It’s late, and Jane needs her beauty rest. I’ll just take that knitting,” she said, plucking needles, toys and yarn from the boys.

Conrad and Beau stood, both clearly confused by the abrupt change. No, not confused. Suspicious.

“Jane, you’re not thinking—” Conrad began.

“Don’t you dare even consider—” Beau started.

“Yes, yes. You can warn her all you like tomorrow.” Her friend winked before shooing the boys to the door.

They walked toward their cars, dazed and in no hurry to leave.

Fiona waved her arms. “Someone check my car. Be sure to neutralize any murderers who are waiting inside to kill me. I’ll be along in a jiff.” She hung back long enough to kiss Jane’s cheek and mutter, “I’m on board with your plan. You get the clothes, and I’ll find the wig.”

Best friends were amazing!

The front door closed behind Fiona, leaving Jane and Rolex alone. Her furry beastie circled around her feet until she picked him up and hugged him close. “I don’t think the world is ready for my sting operation, baby, but I am.” She grinned. “Tomorrow, I become Ana.”