Stan let out a quiet breath, watching Maggie’s back as she descended the steps. “I know, and a lot of times there just aren’t any answers.”

“Are you going to tell Joyce about this?”

“I might have to.” Stan stopped at the base of the stairs, running a hand over the back of his neck as though there were tension or weariness there. “She’s a strong woman, Cliff. I guess I didn’t know just how strong until this business started. I know when we first got married, a lot of people thought I did it for her inheritance.”

“Not anyone who knew you.”

Stan shrugged. “Anyway, that died down after a while, died completely after I became sheriff. I guess there were times I wondered whether Joyce ever thought it.”

“She’d have told me if she had,” Cliff said bluntly.

With a half laugh, Stan turned to him. “Yes, she would’ve at that.”

Maggie came back into the hall from the music room. “There’s nothing missing in there, either. I’ve a few things in the living room, but—”

“Might as well be thorough,” Stan told her, then strode across the hall and over the threshold. “Doing some painting?” he asked when he noticed the can and brush by the window.

“I’d planned to have all the trim done in here today,” she said absently as she examined a few more packing boxes, “but then Mrs. Morgan stopped by, and—”

“Louella,” Stan interrupted.

Because he was frowning, Maggie began to smooth it over. “Yes, though she didn’t stay very long. We just looked over the pictures she’d lent me.” Distracted, she picked up the stack. “Actually, I’d wanted to show these to you, Cliff. I wondered if you could tell me how to deal with getting some climbing roses like these started.”

With the men flanking her, Maggie flipped through the snapshots.

“Louella certainly had a feel for making flowers look like they’d grown up on their own,” she murmured. “I don’t know if I have the talent for it.”

“She always loved this place,” Stan said. “She—” Then he stopped when she flipped to the color shot of himself and Morgan. “I’d forgotten about that one,” he said after a moment. “Joyce took that the first day of deer season.”

“Louella mentioned that she hunted.”

“She did,” Cliff put in, “because he wanted her to. Morgan had an—affection for guns.”

And died by one, Maggie thought with a shudder. She turned the pictures facedown. “There’s nothing missing anywhere that I can see, Sheriff.”

He stared down at the pile of photos. “Well, then, I’ll do a check of the doors and windows, see if anything’s been forced.”

“You can look,” Maggie said with a sigh, “but I don’t know if the doors were locked, and half the windows at least were open.”