Cat's Claw (A Pecan Springs Mystery)

that she was here. I’m sorry we couldn’t let her in.”
    Mrs. Kirk took the card. “Donna is so sweet. She’s been an angel through—” She waved her hand vaguely. “Through everything.”
    Sheila nodded. “Oh, and she also wanted me to tell you that Mr. Vance would like you to call as soon as you can.”
    “Oh, really?” Mrs. Kirk’s breath quickened. “I— Uh, thank you.”
    “Vance.” Sheila read the rising flush on the woman’s cheeks. She looked down at the list. “You seem to have left his name out. He’s the man you’ve been seeing?”
    Mrs. Kirk shook her head, chewed her lip, and looked away. Sheila waited. Finally, she said, “Yes. He’s— Yes.”
    “Thank you. Vance.” Sheila made a point of scribbling it down. “First name?”
    “Glen. He’s… the director of the library. My… boss.”
    Sheila remembered the man. Ingratiating, she thought, too quick with the flattery. The sort of man an affection-starved woman might be attracted to, when her husband was working nights and weekends.
    “You won’t have to… to talk to him, will you?” Mrs. Kirk asked. “It would just upset— I mean, Glen isn’t involved in any way.”
    “You said you returned from lunch with Mr. Vance at one forty-five,” Sheila said crisply. “Did he return to the library at that time?”
    “No. He… he had some errands to run. I don’t know what time he got back.” Her mouth twisted and she put out her hand in a pleading gesture. “Please
. Please
don’t bother him about this. It has nothing to do with him. It would be just awful.”
    “I understand the situation, Mrs. Kirk,” Sheila said, and tucked her notebook and pen into her shirt pocket without acknowledging the woman’s plea. She stood up. “Thank you—you’ve been very helpful. You can go now. Before you do, though, I’m going to ask one of our officers to take your fingerprints.”
    “My… fingerprints?” Dana Kirk asked, alarmed. “But I don’t understand. Why—”
    “It’s just one of the things we do,” Sheila said with a reassuring smile. “It’s part of our process of elimination. It’ll just take a minute.”
    “Well, I guess, if it’s necessary.” Dana Kirk got up. She smoothed herskirt and then her hair, glancing toward the house. “I was planning to pick up a few things today. Linens, mostly. From upstairs. Can I— May I go in and get them now?”
    Sheila shook her head. “The house is off-limits for the time being, maybe as long as a couple of days. We’ll let you know when you can have access.” She took out a card with her work number on it, added her cell number, and handed it to the woman. “I’d like you to call me if you think of anything I should know—or if something happens that’s in any way related to your husband’s death.”
    Mrs. Kirk’s fingers closed around the card. She looked toward the house, her eyes filling with tears. “I suppose… I suppose it’s my house now, isn’t it?” She sounded disbelieving, but there was also a note of something like relief in her voice. Sheila wasn’t surprised. The marriage was over, and without all the bother and expense of a divorce.
    “You’ll have to ask your lawyer about that,” she said. “Do you know if your husband left a will?” If this became a homicide investigation, they would need a copy.
    “Yes. We both have—had wills. I don’t think he changed his after we separated. Which means…” Her voice trailed off.
    Which means, Sheila thought, that the widow was now the owner of the house where her husband had died. And likely the business, as well. She wondered what kind of difference this was going to make in Dana Kirk’s life, and whether that difference might have been enough to tempt her.
    “Insurance policies?” Sheila asked.
    Mrs. Kirk frowned. “Yes,” she said reluctantly.
    “How much?”
    “Two hundred fifty thousand.” As if in explanation, she added, “I was working for an insurance agent when we got married.” Her tone wasdefensive. “Ms. Harmon wrote the policies for us. There’s one on my life, too. The same amount.”
    Sheila made a note. It sounded like the insurance had been in force long enough for the suicide exclusion to be lifted. “You’re the beneficiary of your husband’s policy?”
    Her “I am” was barely audible. Mrs. Kirk was putting two and two together, and realizing that she was about to come into a substantial sum of money. She might also be realizing that a quarter of a