Regan led Edna to a corner of the backyard. “Edna, Cleo’s mother is very concerned. So is Cleo’s best friend, who called earlier. They don’t know where Cleo went.”

“Neither does that creepy agent,” Edna pointed out, her eyes blinking repeatedly. “Wasn’t he the worst? And that son of his? If I were Mr. Flake, I’d keep him under wraps.”

“They were a pair,” Regan agreed. “Edna, please think for a minute. Is there anything Cleo said to you that might give an indication of where she may have gone?”

“Honestly, Regan, there isn’t. Clearly she wanted to be left in peace and quiet. Privacy was paramount to her.” Edna shrugged. “She didn’t welcome my overtures of hospitality. I was living nearby and told her if she needed anything to please call. The only time I heard from her was last week when she called and asked if it might be possible to extend her stay for a week or so if need be. I told her that would be fine, just let me know. Then I never heard back. I left messages over the weekend, but nothing. Then I came home Sunday, the day she was originally supposed to leave, and found the note. It would have been nice if she called, one way or the other.”

“Do you have any idea how she spent her time when she was here?”

Edna shook her head. “Not really. But I heard she’d gone into town and talked to people. This was after she made me promise not to tell anyone that she was here. I know word got around. I had to tell my maid to take the month off. With pay, I might add. But the young man who takes care of my pool had to come by twice a week. He also cuts the grass and tends to the flowers. That has to be done regularly. The inside of your house can hide a lot of sins, but not the outside. Before I left I told him a young lady would be renting the house for the month of July. But my lips were sealed as to her identity.”

“Have you spoken to him at all lately?”

“No, he doesn’t call unless there’s a problem. His bills always arrive in a jiffy, I’ll tell you that much.”

“So you don’t know if he ever actually met Cleo?”

“No.”

“Can I have his number?”

“Of course. I have it memorized. He’s been with me for several years now.”

Regan copied the number down on the piece of paper she’d used to write Cleo’s information.

“Judson mows the lawn every Friday. The sound his mower makes could wake the dead. What a racket. But he’s got a green thumb and is a hard worker. As you can see”—Edna pointed around her yard—“he does a lovely job.”