and then. Nancy had heard a great deal about those visits—because Josephine’s interest in Laney had been so unexpected.
“Her arthritis is getting bad enough that she can’t take Bryson very often,” Maisey was saying. “But Laney’s there to help, and I felt I really needed to be free today.”
“I can watch them for you, too,” Nancy said, “on days like today, when I’m off, or after work. So keep that in mind. I’m sorry about your mother, by the way.” They’d talked once, briefly, over the phone, but Nancy didn’t feel she’d properly expressed her condolences. She’d been too stunned to hear that Josephine had died.
A sad smile curved Maisey’s lips. “I appreciate that. Thanks for the flowers you sent home with Rafe.”
“I knew he was working over at the church, and I didn’t want to intrude on your grief, in case...in case you needed some time alone.” She’d paid for those flowers herself, and hoped Maisey would realize that but didn’t mention it.
“You’re always welcome at my house, no matter what,” Maisey said.
Guilt for feeling relief at Josephine’s passing made Nancy cringe. Here she was expressing her sympathy, and yet she was secretly glad Josephine was gone. “So...what’d you stop by to talk to me about?” she asked. “Have you decided on the date of the funeral?”
A shadow passed over Maisey’s face. “Not yet. We’re getting our own pathologist to do the autopsy, and that’ll take more time, which makes it difficult to proceed with...what normally happens when you lose a loved one.”
“Why go to the trouble? Of hiring a pathologist, I mean? Haven’t they already determined what...you know...caused her death?” Nancy hesitated to use the word suicide. That was such a painful thing for surviving family members to face. But even if Maisey hadn’t called on Tuesday morning, Nancy would’ve heard what the police had found—and what they thought. Everyone in Keys Crossing was talking about the fact that Josephine had taken her own life. Not much happened on the island that didn’t churn through the gossip mill. Josephine had been an important person, after all.
“Between you and me, Keith feels the coroner has reached the wrong conclusion. He wants someone who’s unbiased to take a look,” Maisey said.
No one would be keen to accept a suicide ruling. Nancy understood that and felt sorry for Keith and Maisey. But she was more affected by the mention of his name than any other aspect of the conversation, which only made her more disgusted with herself. She should hate him for using her the way he had. And even though she didn’t—couldn’t, for whatever lame reason—she would never be stupid enough to get involved with him again. So why was she still hanging on?
It was pathetic.
“What does Keith think happened?” she asked.
“He’s not sure,” Maisey replied. “No one is. We just...need more information.”
“Because she must’ve had a heart attack or slipped and hit her head, right? Not because you suspect foul play.”
Maisey grimaced. “To be honest, we’re not ruling anything out.”
“Wow.” Nancy shoved her hands in the pockets of her robe.
“It’s hard to imagine that anyone would hurt her,” Maisey said. “But we should gather all the facts before...before we proceed.”
Nancy nodded. She wouldn’t bury her mother, either, not until she’d done everything possible to answer any questions that remained—except this could never happen to her, since her mother had passed away years ago. “It’s always better to be thorough. If that includes getting someone you feel more comfortable with to do the autopsy, then so be it. That way, if questions arise later, you’ll be able to feel you did all you could.”
Maisey frowned in apparent uncertainty. “I hope it’s the right move.”
“How can it be the wrong one?”
“I’m just worried in general. What if the autopsy isn’t conclusive? What if it sends us on a wild-goose chase? What if we start to believe my mom was murdered and begin to suspect our friends? What if those friends are innocent? Or what if she was murdered and we can’t find the culprit—or he gets off for some reason? None of that would be easy to deal with.”
Nancy slid the clasp of her necklace around to the back. In that case, maybe ignorance was bliss. “Was she having trouble with anyone in particular?”
“My mother had trouble with everyone. Well, I guess you couldn’t call it trouble. It was too one-sided for that. Other people put up with her because they had to, while she did pretty much whatever she pleased. Maybe someone got sick of her throwing her weight around.”
Nancy was one of the people who’d had to put up with Josephine and hadn’t always liked it. But she would never have done anything to harm her. She had, however, imagined—more than once—telling her off. “You mean someone here on Fairham?”
“If we’re lucky, it was an outsider.”
“We don’t get a lot of those this time of year.”
“Exactly,” Maisey said on a sigh. “An outsider would stand out.”
Nancy hadn’t noticed anyone around town she didn’t recognize. And how would Josephine make someone who didn’t even live in the area angry enough to murder her? What would this person’s motivation be? “Could it have been a man she was dating?”
“Possibly. Or an old flame. Like Keith, she left quite a few broken hearts in her wake.”
Nancy’s heart was one of those Keith had broken, but she was glad Maisey didn’t acknowledge that.
“I’m trying not to jump to conclusions, though,” she went on. “I actually had another reason for stopping by.”
“What is it?” Nancy tightened the belt on her robe. “If there’s anything I can do, I will.”
“There’s nothing. Not yet. But thank you. I’ll keep that in mind. I just... I wanted to let you know...Keith’s back on the island.”
Already? Nancy suddenly found it difficult to breathe, although she’d expected him to show up. “I’m glad he was able to make it,” she lied. “Considering what’s happened, this is where he should be.”
Maisey peered at her more closely. “You’re okay that he’s here? You won’t mind if you run into him around town?”
She shook her head as carelessly as possible. “Of course not. We may not even bump into each other.”
A skeptical expression claimed Maisey’s face. “Keys Crossing isn’t that big. And I’m guessing he’ll stop by the store. Since you’re usually there, you’ll probably see him. I know how you used to feel about him, and—”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Nancy interrupted with a dismissive gesture. “That’s in the past. I’m dating someone else now—a guy I met online who lives on the Isle of Palms.”
“Tom?”
Nancy
