dried berries that had fallen from the trees to the asphalt, and Lara sniffed the air. The trees that bordered the property and the autumn flowers that spilled from a front garden combined for a sweet, fresh scent.
She stepped through the front entrance into a lobby area. The blue-green color scheme and the wall fountain of running water created a soothing environment. Someone knew feng shui.
Lara nodded at the security guard and approached the front desk, staffed by a woman in green to color coordinate with the room. She looked up with a big smile that seemed totally genuine.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Mrs. O’Hara. Vivian O’Hara.”
The greeter’s eyebrow lifted. “Are you a relative?”
“Mrs. O’Hara’s daughter, Diane Teller, told us that her mother was interested in talking to us.” Lara flipped open her badge. “I’m Special Agent Lara Grant.”
“One minute, please.” She held up her index finger. “I’ll locate her.”
“Thanks.” Lara turned away from the desk to watch the rivulets of water running down the glass enclosure on the wall.
“Delilah, is Viv O’Hara in the TV room or by the pool?” The woman paused. “Tell her she has a visitor.”
“Agent Grant? Mrs. O’Hara’s in the TV room. It’s across the room and then a left turn.” She tapped a guest book with a pencil. “Would you please sign in?”
Lara printed her name on the next blank line in the guest book and scribbled her signature beside it.
Once she crossed the room, Lara could hear the TV, and she followed the sound. She poked her head into the room. Before she could take one step, a tall African-American woman stopped her.
“Are you here to see Mrs. O’Hara?”
“Yes. Are you Delilah?”
Her eyes twinkled. “Why, yes I am. Vivian’s the one with the long silver mane, sitting right in front of the TV.”
The woman called out. “Fewer distractions sitting up close, Delilah, and there’s nothing wrong with my eyes. Nothing wrong with my ears either. Send her over.”
Delilah smiled and shrugged.
Lara approached Mrs. O’Hara with her hand outstretched. “Mrs. O’Hara, I’m Special Agent Lara Grant. Your daughter told us you’d be willing to talk to us about the Moretti brothers.”
Mrs. O’Hara gave her a thin hand weighed down by several rings, and added a surprisingly firm grip. “Excuse me for not getting up. I bruised my hip, which is why I’m stuck in here and not doing my water aerobics, and you can call me Viv.”
“Hope you’re not too badly injured.” Lara jerked her chin at the TV where a couple on a reality dating show was making out in the hot tub. “And I hope I’m not interrupting your show.”
Viv picked up the remote in her lap and aimed it at the TV, pausing the picture. “It’s recorded. I might fast-forward through this, anyway. I don’t know why she’s kissing this guy. He’s a player.”
Lara pressed her lips together to stop her smile. “And your hip?”
“Just a bruise. Sit, Lara.” She waved at the chair next to hers. “Can I call you Lara?”
“Of course.” Lara perched on the edge, clasping her hands around one knee. “So, what do you remember about the Moretti twins?”
“Why are you asking about them? Diane, my daughter, didn’t mention the reason.”
If reality shows held Viv’s interest more than the news, who was she to burst her bubble? Obviously, Viv’s daughter didn’t want to upset her mother. Lara cleared her throat. “We’re investigating some cold case files in that area, possible arsonist.”
“I hope you catch them.”
“We will. We’re investigating some possible motives. Can you tell me about the Morettis?”
“The twins.” Viv’s faded blue eyes shifted over Lara’s shoulder. “I lived there when the parents were alive. Seemed like a nice couple, an attractive couple anyway. Not too friendly though, but then it was that type of neighborhood. Everyone kept to themselves in those days.”
“Were you there after the parents died and the aunt moved in?”
Viv sniffed. “Aunt, my ass. I never saw any aunt. I never saw any adults around, but the boys stayed in that house until...”
“Until it burned down and Mason died in the fire.”
“That was terrible.” Viv covered her eyes with one hand. “The way that boy carried on.”
Lara swallowed. “Andrew?”
“Wanted to run right back into that house and rescue his brother. The firemen had to restrain him.”
“Did you have much contact with the twins after their parents died? Before the fire?”
“They were nice boys.” Viv patted Lara’s knee. “Very mature, very respectful. That’s why I never called Child Protective Services when it looked like they were living there alone.”
“They didn’t cause any trouble in the neighborhood?”
“The younger twin, Mason, he had a few run-ins with the law before his parents’ accident. I know the police came to the house a few times, but he cleaned up his act after his parents died. No trouble at all out there—until the fire.”
“Did the boys have many visitors to the house, or did they keep a low profile?”
“Those boys didn’t have many friends before or after. I think the father was strict because the way those boys looked—” Viv winked “—you’d think the place would be crawling with girls.”
“They never dated?” Lara clenched her teeth. Thank God they never dated. Who knew what sick tricks they would’ve played on the girls?
“Not that I could tell.” Viv shook her head, making her long, side braid swing back and forth. “No prom dates, no girls at the house—even when they lived there alone. I suppose they didn’t want to call attention to their situation.”
Or they were too busy planning a criminal empire.
Viv tapped Lara’s knee. “The only time I thought the twins might be getting into trouble was when they had those couple of boys over.”
Lara froze. “They had some boys over to the house?”
“Just a few—scruffy-looking characters, if you ask me.”
“Near the time of the fire?” Lara crossed her arms, afraid Viv might see her heart pounding in her chest.
Viv’s face crumpled. “Do you think they might have had something to do with the
