“Not right now. Let’s finish up the paperwork. We need fully comprehensive insurance.” She caught his eye. “Not that we’re going to need it, but probably best to be safe. In case someone reckless drives into us.” Like a tree. Or a post. That had been known to happen.

“Sure. That’s it? Then we’re done here.” Cade shrugged. “Any questions?”

“I have a question.” Kathleen removed her sunglasses and the wicked gleam in her eyes made Martha almost as nervous as the prospect of driving the car.

“Kathleen—”

“What’s the speed limit?”

Oh for...

“Why? Are you on the run, lady?” Cade laughed and scratched at his skin under the T-shirt. “You robbed a bank? Police chasing you?”

“No, although I did recently have dealings with the police when they came to remove a body from my kitchen.”

Cade stopped laughing. “Body?”

Body? It occurred to Martha that she really didn’t know that much about Kathleen at all. She’d talked a lot about her work, and her travels, but hadn’t revealed anything personal. She knew about Liza only because she’d met her.

She could be traveling across America with an eighty-year-old serial killer. “Kathleen? You didn’t—er—mention—”

“It slipped my mind, dear. Or perhaps subconsciously I’ve been trying to forget it. The mind has a way of blocking out trauma, doesn’t it?”

Hopefully that was true, because right now it seemed that this trip might be unforgettable for all the wrong reasons. “Tell us about the body, Kathleen.”

“It wasn’t a random body. It belonged to an intruder who entered my home in the middle of the night.”

“Oh that’s terrible.” Martha put her hand on Kathleen’s arm. “How very frightening.”

“He didn’t seem frightened. In fact, he was rather bold.”

“I meant frightening for you.”

“I know. I was teasing you.” Kathleen patted her hand. “It was the most excitement I’d had in a long time, although I admit I was lucky he was alone and inebriated. A word of advice—” she leaned closer to Cade “—if you intend to break into a house, stay sober and always take an accomplice. It’s much harder to fight off two people.”

Cade took a step back, eyes wide and staring. “Right. So—you killed him?”

“No. He is very much alive.” Kathleen frowned. “Probably because I used the eight-inch pan, and not the twelve-inch. I only use the twelve-inch if I’m frying eggs and mushrooms with my bacon.”