He picked up the phone and punched in the number for Fred’s attorney. Since the lawyers for both Fred and Mavis had been cooperative, it would be easier to ask them for additional information than to get a court order to drill deeper.

The man’s secretary put him through at once.

“The banking information you provided was helpful.” Nate positioned Fred’s records in front of him. “I’d like more detail on the withdrawal made a few months prior to Mr. Wilson’s death, as well as the monthly deposits that began thereafter. As the executor of his estate, you can get that faster—and with far less hassle—than I can.”

“I’ll be glad to contact the bank. I noticed those entries myself. I wish I had more information about his finances, but Fred and I only talked on the rare occasions he needed legal services. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

Nate thanked him, called Mavis’s attorney with the same request, and leaned back in his chair.

According to their legal representatives, neither Fred nor Mavis had much cash in reserve. A couple hundred thousand before the withdrawal. So money as a motive seemed a stretch . . . unless the perpetrator had targeted numerous people. A hundred thousand from one person wasn’t a huge amount in the big scheme of things, but a hundred thousand from multiple sources could add up to a tidy sum.

And Grace had identified a number of deaths over the past two years of people who shared key characteristics with Mavis and Fred.

He picked up the phone again and punched in her number. For once it didn’t roll to voicemail.

“How’s my favorite painting partner?” Despite the serious nature of the call, he couldn’t tamp down the smile that played at his lips as he greeted her—or erase the image of her from last night, wearing one of his old shirts while she painted, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she edged along the baseboards while he rolled the walls.

“Sore.”

He winced. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It was a wake-up call. I’ve been too lax about adding more physical activity to my routine. What’s up?”

He filled her in on the latest development and his visit with Mullins. “He knows more than he’s telling.”

“Shoot. I was hoping the tip had been a crank call and he wasn’t involved.”

“It’s possible he isn’t. I got the feeling he was trying to protect someone.”

“But he didn’t say who.”

“No.” He leaned back in his chair, watching clouds scuttle across the blue sky out his window. “However, I plan to pay him another visit later in the week. In the interim, I wanted to get the names of the people you identified while you were searching for deaths that were similar to Fred’s and Mavis’s.”

“Are you going to run their financial records too?”

“If their attorneys cooperate—and I don’t know why they wouldn’t. Since one of your search criteria was little or no family, I’m assuming their lawyers are the executors.”