Page 120 of Deeper Than the Dead

“Mrs. Monroe, you probably don’t remember me. I’m Vera Boyett, Vernon and Evelyn’s daughter.”

Her mouth formed an O before her lips spread into a wide smile. “My goodness, you’re so grown up, I didn’t recognize you. Come in!”

Before the door was closed behind Vera, the woman was already shouting for her husband. “George! You won’t believe who’s here.”

George, ninety if he was a day, shuffled into the entry hall. “My goodness. Look at you.” He grinned. “It’s like Vernon said, you’re the spitting image of your mother.”

Vera’s chest constricted. “Thank you. It’s nice to see you, Mr. Monroe.”

“Good gracious, call me George.”

“Call me Lyn,” his wife tossed in. “Now come on in here.”

Once they’d ushered her to the living room, Mrs. Monroe—Lyn—insisted on serving iced tea. George told Vera all about how he and her father had lunch once a week all these years until just recently. But now Vernon, more often than not, didn’t recognize him. Then he moved on to a more pleasant topic, explaining how his sons had taken over the company and business was booming. He had four grandchildren—he showed her photos of every single one—and half a dozen great-grandchildren. He and Lyn were living the good life enjoying all those grands.

Vera suddenly wondered if her daddy had ever resented the fact that neither she nor Eve had given him a grandchild.

She brushed aside the unexpected thought. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the trouble at the farm. We’re just stunned at all that’s been found.”

“It’s quite the shock,” he agreed. “We were all convinced that Sheree had taken off on Vernon. No surprise really. She had a certain reputation.”

“She did.” Vera pursed her lips and gave a somber nod. “It’s just inconceivable that she’s been dead all this time. We can’t even imagine who would have wanted to kill her.”

Lyn lifted her glass of tea but hesitated before taking a drink. “I can tell you,” she said with a knowing look at Vera. “It was a wife, mark my word. That girl was just daring someone to come after her.”

“Now, now, Lyn. No need to speak ill of the dead,” her husband warned.

Lyn made a tsking sound. “Live by the sword, die by the sword.”

Vera resisted the urge to smile. “It was a sad and difficult time.”

“It was,” Lyn agreed, then smiled. “What a lovely young lady that Luna has become.”

“She has. Daddy raised her right.”

“He did, indeed.” George assessed Vera a moment. “I’m sure the rumors about your father having been the one who did away with Sheree have been heartbreaking. But I can tell you, I find that impossible to believe. The man adored her.”

Lyn shot him a look. He held up his hands, as if to ward it off. “It’s true, he did. Not like he loved your mother, of course. But he was smitten well enough.”

“Evelyn was the one he loved most,” Lyn added. “I’m convinced Sheree took advantage of his loneliness and grief.”

“I will give you that,” George confirmed.

“Do you recall any particular tension going on between my parents in the two or three years before my mother died?” Vera asked.

The two looked at each other, then shook their heads. “No,” George insisted. “Your parents were the happiest couple we knew.”

Lyn laughed. “We were all jealous of how close they were. If there was ever any trouble, the two resolved it quickly and never once let on.”

Vera bit her bottom lip, hesitating before throwing the next one at them. Then she went for it. “What about any of the other friends? Any tension with them? I mean”—Vera looked to Lyn—“as you said, there were plenty of wives who were upset by Sheree.”

George frowned, as if he were concentrating on the question. “I can’t recall any particular issues.” He laughed then. “That was the time frame when you and I were on the wrong side with each other.”

Lyn nodded, her face somber. “We almost got divorced twenty-six years ago, right after our youngest son graduated college. I had this strange idea that I married too young and hadn’t experienced life the way I should have.”

“Thankfully,” George put in, “she realized she was wrong.”

Lyn made a little gasp. “Now that I think about it, I believe Florence and Charles were having a little trouble back then too.”

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