I didn’t quite buy this let-it-all-hang-out routine. Was he really this careless and uncaring, to talk this way to someone he’d met once? Or was it calculated? How could he know I was investigating Vera’s death?

He could have seen my name in the local paper in connection with the previous murders. In the past six months or so I’d been approached twice by people who thought I was some kind of private detective. Morty Cassity could suspect me of ulterior motives, then.

“Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce ought to be running a major corporation,” I said. “They definitely know how to get people to do what they want.”

Morty’s expression hardened as he spoke. “They’re completely ruthless when it comes to getting what they want. They’re also devious enough to double-bluff their way out of murder.”

That second statement shocked me. “What do you mean? Are you accusing them of murdering Vera?”

He shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s entirely possible. First they stage this elaborate public display, which on the surface of it looks all nice and wonderful. But that’s only a cover-up so nobody would ever think they’d put Vera out of the way permanently.”

I had to admit—but only to myself—that the Ducote sisters probably were devious enough to think of a scheme like that. But did they despise Vera enough to go to such lengths?

I put the question to the widower.

He gazed at me through slitted eyelids. “Vera hated those two old biddies with a passion. I never could figure out why and couldn’t have cared less. But the past couple of weeks she seemed more intent than ever on digging up something to humiliate them. She couldn’t stand how high-and-mighty they were.”

I debated whether to mention Vera’s letter and her phone message. Perhaps Morty would know something about that.

I quickly decided against it, however. I didn’t want to tip my hand in any way with him. I would probe indirectly instead.

“The Ducotes are a proud family,” I said. “With a pretty distinguished history in this town, too. They probably have a few skeletons in the family closet, like everybody else, but I can’t see them wanting to kill anybody.”

“Maybe they didn’t.” Morty shrugged again. “Just saying. All I know is, it wasn’t me.” He checked his watch. “Sorry, but I’ve got to hit the shower. Places to go, people to see, you know how it is.”

I took the hint and rose. “Of course. Thank you for your time. Come on, Diesel, time to go.”

Diesel meowed as he left Morty’s side.

“He sure is beautiful,” Morty said as he followed the cat and me to the front door. “What did you say he is again? I might get one now.”

“Maine Coon. They’re wonderful companions.”

Morty nodded and opened the front door. I was about to step out when I realized a man stood there, hand raised to knock. I moved back. “Excuse me.”

“Gerry. Come on in.” Morty extended a hand to Sheriff Tidwell.