Page 19 of Memory of Murder
“Wow.” She took a breath. “I can see how this company—BioTech—is a definite connection of some sort.” She bit her lip, confusion replacing the other emotions that had danced across her face. “But how did that lead to murder?”
“That’s what we intend to find out. I can’t say for sure this is the connection—the thread—that led to murder. But it’s one that wasn’t explored in the investigation.” He shifted back into Drive. “And money matters have long been motives for murder.”
“True. But Neil was a law student. The only money matters he had at the time was the mounting debt.”
“Still—” Jack braked for the turn into the imposing driveway “—it’s a starting place for our search.”
“It is a starting place. The fact that all the players except Mary and Neil wound up a part of BioTech does seem a little suspicious.”
“Definitely a little suspicious considering that Mary mentioned a new start-up business that wanted Neil on board.”
Anne’s eyes widened. “You’re right. If it was BioTech, then that’s a thread that binds them all.”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
Jack braked again at the gate and powered down his window. Now, if they were lucky, Mrs. Langston was home. He pressed the button on the intercom.
“Good morning,” a female voice said. “Please state your name and business.”
“Jackson Brenner with the Colby Agency and my colleague, Anne Griffin.” He glanced at her. “We’re here to see Eve Redford Langston.”
He used the woman’s maiden name as well to suggest some knowledge of her prior to becoming the senator’s wife.
Anne’s eyebrows lifted in question. Likely the same question he had. Would the lady of the house allow them into her domain? Would she dare satisfy her curiosity as to why the daughter of Mary Morton was at her gate? He had no doubt the Langstons had already heard the news. Judith Hudson, owner of Judith’s, had photos with her lifelong friend, Eve Langston, all over her social media pages. Jack had spent some time perusing those pages last night. The woman no doubt called Langston the instant they left her establishment.
“One moment please.”
The seconds ticked off, but neither spoke while they waited. The pulse at the base of Anne’s throat fluttered rapidly. She was nervous…anxious. Who wouldn’t be? This was her life—well, her history anyway. Like anyone else, she wanted to understand…to clear up the mystery. He couldn’t imagine growing up and finding his way through this world without the strong foundation of his personal history…without the love of his parents and siblings.
So much of Anne’s was unknown. Hung in the balance of multiple unanswered questions. And that didn’t even take into account the murder.
The gate suddenly started a slow swing inward.
He and Anne exchanged a look. Evidently they were in. The smile that stretched across her face no doubt mirrored his own.
“Drive forward,” the seemingly disembodied voice directed. “Park near the fountain and approach the front door.”
“Will do.” He powered the window up and rolled forward. “We’re in.”
Anne exhaled a big breath. “She didn’t say Eve wasn’t in.”
“She did not. I’m guessing Eve intends to see us, otherwise why allow the visit to her home?”
“I’m sure the Colby Agency name was persuasive.”
“Possibly.”
The name often got him through doors he might not have been able to enter. But he suspected Eve Redford Langston knew exactly who Anne Griffin was and why she was here. If Anne hadn’t decided Judith had given them up, he’d let her have that one for a bit longer. Judith had pretended to be such a good friend of Mary’s. He had a feeling Anne preferred giving people the benefit of the doubt. Surprising in light of the childhood she’d lived.
She was a nice person, he decided. Maybe too nice.
Jack parked on the cobblestone drive that circled a massive fountain which looked exactly like something one might come across in Italy. He exited the car and moved toward Anne’s door.
She emerged, staring at the fountain, then the monstrosity of a house with its grand turret. “This is just too much,” she said for his ears only.
He agreed. This, he surmised, was not a home. It was bragging rights.
A short set of broad steps led to a grand porch—if you could call the architectural detail fronting a castle-like structure a porch.
