Page 75 of Buried Too Deep

“And if you don’t want to go in, I’ll go in and ask,” Phin offered. “Val can stay out here and keep you safe.”

Touched, Cora patted his hand. “Thank you, but I want to meet her. I want to know why she moved from Idaho to Baton Rouge. I want to know what my father actually did.”

“Then let’s get this done,” Val said, getting out of the SUV and coming around to the back to let Cora out.

Phin got out of his side, then hesitated. “What about SodaPop?”

Val shrugged. “Bring her. If they don’t allow a dog, she can wait in the SUV. It’s cool enough that she’ll be fine for a little while.”

“Okay.” Phin clucked to SodaPop, who jumped out and fell into line beside him.

“Thank you,” Cora murmured as they walked to Alice’s front door. “I got some sleep. You make a good pillow, Phin.”

His smile warmed her, inside and out. “All part of the Broussard service.”

Still, Cora was grateful. She wasn’t sure what it was about this man that made her feel safe enough to sleep, and for now she wasn’t going to question it. She’d accept it until her life calmed enough for her to think clearly.

For now, she was taking one step at a time. Literally.

Val climbed the steps first, waiting until Cora and Phin were on the porch before knocking. For at least a minute, no one answered. There were no voices to be heard.

Then, finally, the door opened, revealing a man who appeared to be in his fifties. He looked tense and wore no smile. “Yes?”

Cora took a deep breath. “We’re here to talk to Mrs. VanPatten, if she’s available. My name is Cora Winslow. I think your wife knew my father. I learned recently that he died twenty-three years ago. I’m hoping to learn something about him.”

The man’s face remained impassive, except for his left eye, which twitched. “What was your father’s name?”

Cora didn’t take her eyes off the man’s face. “Jack Elliot.”

His shoulders sagged. “I thought so.” He opened the door wider. “Please, come in.”

Cora exchanged glances with Val and Phin. Both of them looked as puzzled as she felt. But then Phin’s hand caught hers and held it.

“We can leave at any time,” he whispered. “Just say the word.”

Cora squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

“May we bring the dog?” Phin asked. “She’s my service dog.”

Nodding silently, the man led them into the living room where a woman sat in the corner of a sofa, her hands folded in her lap.

Cora’s breath hitched. Alice Bergeron VanPatten.

Slowly Alice rose to greet them, her expression one of weary resignation. “Are you police?”

Cora blinked. “No. I’m a librarian. My friends Val and Phin are private investigators. Do you need the police?”

Alice laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Oh no. Certainly not. Please sit down. I imagine you have questions, but I have one of my own first.” She waited until Cora and Phin were seated on a love seat, SodaPop at Phin’s feet. Val chose to remain standing directly behind Cora. The man sat beside Alice on the sofa and they held hands, their grips white-knuckled.

What had Cora’s father done? Did the man holding Alice’s hand know that she’d had an affair with a married man? Did he know that Alice’s first husband had been murdered?

Maybe so. He looked stricken. And terrified.

Join the club, sir.

“I’m Cora.”

Alice nodded, her smile faint. “I know. You look like your mother.”

---