Max cut her off to say, “We’ve had killings here before, Shelby, just like any other town.”
“Not like these,” Shelby insisted. “People around here get themselves killed, the reason why is generally pretty obvious, just like who the killer is. No locked-room mysteries or other baffling whodunits, not in Silence. But these deaths? All fine, upstanding men of the town with reputations the next best thing to lily-white, then they’re murdered and all their nasty secrets come spilling out like a dam broke wide open.”
“Secrets?” Nell asked curiously.
“I’ll say. Adultery, embezzlement, gambling, pornography —you name it, we’ve had it. It’s been a regular Peyton Place around here. We haven’t heard anything about poor George’s secrets so far, but it’s early days yet. The other three, their secrets became public knowledge within a couple of weeks of their deaths. So I’m afraid it’s just a matter of time until we find out more about George than we ever wanted to know.”
“Have the killers been caught?”
“Nope. Which is another weird thing, if you ask me. Four prominent citizens killed in the last eight months, and the sheriff can’t solve even one of the murders? He’s going to have a hell of a time getting himself reelected.”
Nell glanced at Max, who was frowning slightly but didn’t offer a comment, then looked back at Shelby. “It does sound a little strange, but I’m sure the sheriff knows his job, Shelby. You always did fret too much.”
Shelby shook her head but laughed as well. “Yeah, I guess I did at that. Oh, hell—is that the time? I’ve gotta go, I’m late. Listen, Nell, I really want to catch up—can I give you a call in a day or two, after you’ve settled in? We can have lunch or something.”
“Sure, I’d love to.”
“Great. And if you get lonesome in that big old house and want somebody to talk to in the meantime, you call me, okay? I’m still a night owl, so anytime’s fine.”
“Gotcha. See you later, Shelby.”
With a wave to Max, the redhead rushed off, and Nell murmured, “She hasn’t changed much.”
“No.”
Nell knew her best bet would be to get in her car and just leave, but she heard herself saying slowly, “These murders do sound pretty unusual. And to go unsolved for so long … Doesn’t the sheriff have at least a few suspects?”
Max uttered an odd little laugh. “Oh, yeah, he has a few. One, in particular.”
“One?”
“Yeah, one. Me.” With another laugh, he turned on his heel and walked away.
Nell gazed after him until he disappeared around the next corner. Then she looked at the busy little town that seemed oblivious to the storm clouds moving in and, half under her breath, murmured, “Welcome home, Nell. Welcome home.”
Kay Hooper, Finding Laura
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