Parents and children. Wills and weddings. Two men from two families, and vastly different roads the men had taken, both leading them to Conti’s works. One via what seemed like a thumbed nose to his parents, the other concerned with hurting the feelings of his in-laws. One obsessed with artwork ownership, the other only wanting to save his farm, but their roads had crossed long enough to result in the murder of Pug Mattock.

My thoughts wandered away. I’d spent a lot of time in this room, talking about death. About murder. About the gray aftermath of crime that went on and on for the people left behind. I sighed. Maybe this would be the last time. Maybe after today I’d never have to walk into this room again.

Rafe’s arm tightened around me. He leaned over and whispered, “When Inwood leaves, I have a plan.”

That sounded intriguing. “A good plan?” I whispered back.

He scoffed. “Like I have any other kind.”

Since I had a vivid memory of what had happened last winter after his plan to surprise me with a drive to Mackinaw City to see the blue ice during a near blizzard (“We’ll have the whole beach to ourselves with this kind of weather”), that didn’t rate a reply.

But he did sometimes have good ideas, so I waited patiently while Hal told us the probable months-long timeline for Skyler’s arraignment, trial, and sentencing.

“Any questions?” he asked. When we all shook our heads, he shot me a suspicious look. I looked back with wide, innocent eyes, and he left, shaking his head and muttering about the youth of today.

Personally, I thought that today’s youth couldn’t possibly compete with today’s older folks. Aunt Frances was one of the sneakiest people around—on top of her boardinghouse matchmaking past, she’d been quietly working for years on a Minnie Needs to Marry Rafe campaign. And Sylvia Mattock had texted me her plan to squelch John Pinnock. Every time he did something to make her life miserable, she was going to play the lonely-widow card. If he played loud music, she’d bring him a casserole. If he ran the lawnmower under her bedroom window at five a.m., she’d ask him to fix a leaky faucet. Sylvia was confident that Pinnock would, eventually, make the connection and give it up. I was betting two months; Rafe’s bet was four months, because he said men really weren’t all that bright.

Ryan looked at Ash. “So, I can go, too?” When he got the nod, he jumped to his feet. “Minnie, Rafe, thanks for everything. I can never make it up to you, but I’ll try. Talk to you later, okay? I’m meeting Keegan for breakfast.” And he practically flew out of the room.

I smiled after him and got a bump in the ribs from Rafe’s elbow.