Page 118 of Deeper Than the Dead

He rolled his eyes. “My mother. God love her. She’s told everyone in the county.” He opened the door wider. “Please, come in. Would you like coffee? It’s just me this morning. My wife, Charlene, is away at a medical conference.”

Vera beamed a smile. “Coffee would be lovely.”

“Well, come on then.” He waved an arm, ushering her inside.

If she’d thought he had glammed up the exterior of this big old house, no adequate words came immediately to mind at what he had done inside. Stunning perhaps covered it. What she could see of the parlors on either side of the gorgeous entry hall had been beautifully restored, modernized only the slightest bit. The staircase was breathtaking. The woodwork and the plaster walls simply beautiful.

This was very Preston.

On the side table in the enormous hall was a photograph of the family. His daughters, thankfully, looked more like their mother. Next to that photograph was another: his parents. Vera bit the inside of her jaw to keep Porky and Petunia out of her head. The third photo was another older couple. Perhaps his in-laws.

“My daughters, Charlotte and Cassidy.” He gestured to the first photo Vera had noticed.

“Beautiful young ladies,” she said, meeting his gaze once more.

“Come on.” He led the way to the kitchen—a chef’s dream of course—where he immediately prepared coffee in a machine that looked like a small prototype of the base one might use to build a robot.

“Sit.” His hand on her back, he leaned in close and gestured to the extravagantly long island with its Italian marble top. “I’ll bring the coffee when it’s finished.”

Vera stilled—as still as stone—as he strutted across the room. A smile slid over her face. Oh, this was too good. She watched as he hurried to start the coffee. Eventually she slid onto one of the stools and reveled in this new discovery.

The machine sputtered and billowed steam, but it wasn’t the pleasing smell just starting to waft from it that had captured her attention. It was his aftershave.

It couldn’t be this easy ... oh, but it certainly seemed so.

“I hope you don’t mind me mentioning it, but what’s happening at your farm”—he joined her at the island and passed her a cup filled with the fresh brew—“is pretty incredible. My God, to have four sets of human remains hidden there for all these years. You must be reeling.”

Vera somehow maintained a calm facade as she sipped her coffee. “You’re right, it really is incredible. I don’t know how we lived there all that time and never had a clue.”

He shook his head. “It’s a shame about your father’s illness. I suppose he’s unable to shed any light on the situation.”

She understood. He wanted to take the opportunity for a little fishing as well.

“Sadly not. I’m helping Bent interview people who were friends of my parents in an effort to learn anything I can about the time frame.”

His forehead furrowed in thought. “It was what? Twenty-odd years ago?”

“Twenty-five or -six, yes, for the first ones.”

He reached for his cup. Vera watched, noted how fit and muscular he was. Clearly he worked out regularly. The memory of the intruder’s solid, muscled body roared into her head.

“I was preparing to head out to college,” he said as he cradled his coffee. “It just seems so ... unbelievable. Like a horror movie.”

“You were accepted to Harvard,” she said, ignoring his other comments. “I remember it being on the billboard in front of the high school.”

He smiled, pretended to be embarrassed. “I was lucky.”

Vera made a scoffing sound. “Please, we both know how it works. You were a spectacular student, obviously.”

He bowed his head in feigned humility. “Thank you.”

Vera savored her coffee for a moment before venturing into the deep weeds. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed to sit still and converse with him. “Our parents were good friends.”

He nodded. “They were. I remember. I was usually busy with my own friends, so I didn’t see you and Eve much, but I do remember several occasions when your whole family came to some big festivity my parents would host at the house.” He rolled his eyes. “My mother was a regular party animal.”

If he meant a show-off, he was right.

“Do you remember any tension between my parents during that time frame—twenty-five or -six years ago?”

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