How Secrets Die Read Online Free Page A

beds.
    Mrs. Anderson gestured toward the long table that occupied the sunroom. “I serve breakfast there from seven to nine on weekdays and eight to ten on Saturday and Sunday. Or if I have a party that wants to meet together, I can set up in the dining room.” What sounded like a routine announcement was interrupted by a sudden smile. “Well, really, you can let me know what time you want breakfast, as long as I’m not too busy.”
    Encouraged by the thaw, Kate ventured a question. “Did Jason usually have breakfast here, or did he fix his own in the cottage?”
    Mrs. Anderson shrugged, sailing on out the back door and dangling a set of keys. “Sometimes one, sometimes the other. On workdays, he’d often just have cereal in the cottage, even though I told him he ought to have a good hot breakfast.”
    The words conjured up an image of Jason, hair rumpled, eyes sleepy, crouched over a bowl of his favorite cereal. There were days when he’d eat nothing else for breakfast, lunch and supper unless she intervened.
    It was a matter of twenty feet or so to the cottage, but the small building was almost screened from view by an overgrown hedge of lilac bushes that surrounded it, to say nothing of the ivy that climbed up the walls and over the door.
    Mrs. Anderson pushed back a lilac branch as she fumbled with a key.
    â€œSometimes I think I ought to have the dratted things cut to the ground, but they smell so lovely in the spring that I haven’t the heart.” She darted a look at Kate. “Your brother said it was like the hedge around Sleeping Beauty’s castle. He liked it.”
    â€œI’m sure he did.” From childhood, Jason had escaped life through myth and fantasy, and she wasn’t surprised he’d thought of it in that way. “No thorns, thank goodness,” she added.
    The door swung open, and Mrs. Anderson vanished inside. “Just let me get some lights on, so you can see the place properly, although there is light from the windows, of course.”
    Kate hesitated on the doorstep, one hand on the frame. A tendril of ivy entangled her fingers as if to restrain her. This is it , a voice seemed to be saying in the back of her mind. Once you’re committed, there’s no going back.
    I don’t want to go back , she insisted. I’m already in this to the end.
    The only possible thing worse than knowing the truth of why Jason died would be never knowing at all.
    * * *
    M AC WAS STILL thinking about that odd encounter with Kate Beaumont when he headed into the café for coffee. He should be concentrating on the recent explosion of illegal prescription meds surfacing in town. Trouble was, he had a suspicion Kate Beaumont might be likely to set off a few explosions of her own.
    â€œUncle Mac!” The high, young voice of his nephew cut through the chatter of the lunchtime crowd. “Look what I have!”
    Grinning, Mac wended his way through tables to where his mother sat with his brother’s boy, Jamie. Jamie was holding a sticky bun in an equally sticky hand.
    â€œDo you want some, Uncle Mac? I’ll share.”
    Mac stepped back out of range of Jamie’s waving hand. “No, thanks. If I eat that in my uniform, I’ll have the bees following me around town.”
    Jamie, at eight easily impressed, found that hilarious. While he was doubled up with giggles, Mac raised an eyebrow at his mother. “No school today?”
    Ellen Whiting, slim and attractive, shook her head. “Dentist appointment. I’ll drop him at school after lunch.”
    â€œI didn’t have cavities,” Jamie announced proudly around a sticky mouthful.
    â€œSo you’re making up for that by eating lots of sugar, right, buddy?” Mac ruffled Jamie’s fair, silky hair.
    â€œ Ach , such a sweet boy can use some sugar.” Anna Schmidt, the Amish owner of the Buttercup Café, set a mug of coffee in front of Mac and