Page 23 of The Murder Club

“Why was the open house canceled?” she asked, willing to latch on to the excuse to explain why she was standing on the sidewalk.

Janet waved a hand toward the split-level home. “Poor Mrs. Hartford was found deceased this morning. She fell into her pool.”

“Oh, how awful. Did she drown?”

“No, she busted her head.” Janet shuddered. “Tragic.”

Bailey knew she should get in her truck and drive away. She didn’t even know why she was there. But she sensed that Janet was eager to discuss the terrible event. Why not discover what happened? It would give her something to think about besides her current troubles.

“Is it your house for sale?” she asked.

“No. I live on the opposite side. The one for sale is empty.” Janet clicked her tongue. “Well, not really empty. For the past week there’s been construction workers and people mowing the yard and trimming hedges, not to mention the real estate agents who were out taking pictures of the entire neighborhood to put on their website.” Janet nodded toward the dog, who had moved to pee on a nearby bush. “My poor Tina has been barking nonstop for days. Now I suppose it will go on for another week because they rescheduled the open house.” Janet abruptly cut off her complaints. “Oh, that sounds horrible, doesn’t it? Old lady Hartford . . . I mean.” She shook her head in resignation. “Never mind. I’m just making it worse.”

“I understand,” Bailey assured her, glancing toward her truck, where Bert and Ernie were watching her with fierce intensity. “My neighbor had renovations done last year and those two beasts barked from dawn to dusk.”

“Right?” Janet smiled, as if relieved that Bailey didn’t think she was a horrible person. “And it really is a shame about Mrs. Hartford,” she added.

“Did you know her well?”

“No. My husband went to school in Grange, so she was the superintendent, but as far as I know she stayed mostly to herself since she retired. I don’t think I’ve seen her leave the house more than a handful of times since we moved in last year.”

Having worked with the elderly for years, Bailey knew the most logical reason a person withdrew from society.

“Was she in poor health?”

“Not that I know of,” Janet said, pointing toward the two-storied house with white siding and black shutters. “I can see into her backyard from my upstairs and she looked fine when I saw her walking around the patio. And she swam every morning when the weather was decent.”

“Interesting.” Bailey revised her initial assumption. There had to be another reason the older woman chose to remain a recluse.

Busy sorting through the various possibilities that ranged from a general aversion to people—not unusual in the elderly—all the way to dementia, Bailey was unprepared when Janet abruptly narrowed her eyes.

“Hey, you’re not a cop, are you?”

“No.”

“A reporter?”

Sensing the woman was about to put an end to their conversation, Bailey turned to face her.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

There was a long pause before Janet slowly nodded. “Okay.”

“I’m in an online murder club.” It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. She had been in the club.

“What’s that?”

“We’re average citizens who investigate cold cases.” Bailey nodded toward the Hartford house. “Or suspicious deaths.”

Janet’s mouth fell open, but it wasn’t shock that shimmered in her dark eyes. It was excitement. “Oh my God. You think . . .”

Bailey held up a hand. She didn’t want to start any rumors. “I’m just getting some preliminary information to see if it might be something we would be interested in pursuing.”

“I’ve heard about those clubs. Have you solved any murders?”

“A couple.” Bailey shrugged, hoping Janet wouldn’t ask for details. She didn’t want to admit that they didn’t have actual evidence to prove their various conjectures and that they’d never brought a criminal to justice.

Thankfully, Janet seemed more interested in the potential of being involved in solving a case than worrying about Bailey’s sketchy credentials.

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