would be divine,” she said with a big smile.
Peregrine’s own smile tightened as she made her way to the kitchen. Kit trailed behind her, checking out each room they passed. Not a battering ram in sight.
“Have you been planning this move for a long time?” Kit asked. Either Peregrine hadn’t owned much to begin with or she’d been slowly and steadily packing away her belongings in anticipation of the big day.
“No,” Peregrine replied, pouring homemade iced tea from a glass pitcher into a tall glass. “Not that I could’ve gone anywhere while that horrid Ernie Ludwig lived next door. He was single-handedly destroying my property value.”
Kit sipped her iced tea. “I heard he wasn’t winning any Neighbor of the Year awards.”
“I should think not,” Peregrine scoffed. “I was thrilled to hear that someone from a respectable family had bought the house. It was serendipity. Now I can list my house for sale with no worries.”
A minute ago she’d run off and joined the circus. Now she was respectable? It seemed the Winthrop Wilder name was still valuable currency in Westdale.
“You may want to put a hold on that listing,” Kit advised and told her about the grim discovery.
“I didn’t hear any sirens,” Peregrine replied, gazing out the rear window.
“I doubt sirens were necessary given that the corpse was a skeleton.”
Peregrine’s lips puckered. “Oh no,” she said. “A murder next door. This won’t do at all. I hope they intend to keep this quiet. If people find out, my house will never sell.”
Kit had just told her that her missing neighbor’s bones had been discovered in the house next door and her main concern was the sale of her house. And she’d thought Hollywood was heartless. What was the world coming to?
“I understand that you really disliked Ernie,” Kit said casually.
“Of course I disliked him. He was a menace to the neighborhood.”
Menacing enough to murder? “I heard you filed official complaints.”
“No more than Thora did,” Peregrine said.
Kit’s eyebrows shot up. Thora? The elderly woman hadn’t mentioned making any complaints. “What did Thora complain about?”
“His ghastly motor home, of course. The worst part was that he never used it. If you have a second home, it should be somewhere like Martha’s Vineyard, for heaven’s sake, not your driveway. It sat there most of the year and blocked the sunlight to Thora’s prizewinning rose bushes. She couldn’t grow anything decent once he’d bought that monstrosity.”
Kit’s mind was spinning. Why hadn’t Thora mentioned it? Why hadn’t Peregrine told the other neighbors she was planning to sell her house?
Kit finished her iced tea. “Well, the police are in my house now and I suspect it will get busier over there before the day is over. You may want to seek refuge at the country club or something.”
Peregrine gazed out the kitchen window and sighed. “If I had my druthers, I’d be seeking refuge in Sedona right now.”
After her fruitful visit with Peregrine, the number of people populating her front lawn dissuaded Kit from returning to her house. It was almost as bad as paparazzi.
She turned right instead of left and headed to Liberty Square on foot. She really needed her car. According to Beatrice’s latest report, it was somewhere in Ohio. Thankfully, the air was warm and pleasant and it would give Kit a chance to process what she’d learned from Peregrine.
The high-energy sound of It’s Raining Men jolted her and she pulled her phone from her handbag.
“Hallelujah,” she sang into the phone.
“I told you to stop using that for my ring tone,” Jordan complained. “It’s trite.”
“Fine, I’ll change it to Ain’t No Mountain High Enough .”
“You never called me back,” he said. “I thought you might have been buried beneath the floorboards, too.”
“Sorry, it got crazy once the police arrived. My house is officially a crime scene.”
“You must
Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child