Page 55 of Exposure of Murder

“Good idea.”

Joyce Kenner retired from the court a while ago. He hadn’t seen her around town recently, but if anyone knew the intricacies of Beaver Creek and its legal history, she would. “What is she? Seventy, seventy-five now?”

“Hmm. Somewhere around that age. I don’t know for sure, haven’t seen her around lately.” Nora looked at her watch. “Ethan, I have to go. Ginger is waiting for me.”

Ethan smiled. “How is Ginger? Did she recover from her accident?”

Nora nodded. “Yeah. She’s doing much better, limping a little, but the vet says she’ll make a full recovery.”

Ginger was Nora’s miniature poodle who was always escaping from the house. The last time she got out, a car hit her.

“Good to hear. Give her a pat for me.”

“I will. You take care, Ethan.”

Ethan watched Nora get in her car and drive off, her taillights disappearing down the road.

He made his way to his truck but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Sure, Thornton had enemies—no surprise there—and yes, he was obsessed with the Jenkins place, but hidden valuables? It was starting to feel like one of Jane’s mystery novels.

Turning the truck on, he debated about having a bite to eat at the Harvest Moon but decided against it.

Tanner mentioned Leah was bringing over lasagna tonight, and he could already taste the saucy beef and noodles in his mouth.

Tomorrow, first thing, he’d call Judge Kenner and see if she knew anything that could help him. He also wanted to touch base with Jane. She was willing to go out with him, and he didn’t want to blow the opportunity.

Maybe he’d ask Leah for some suggestions as to where to take her. It’d been a while, hell, a whole year, since he had to plan a date.

The next morning,Ethan was in the office early. He woke up to a light dusting of snow on the ground. Winter was finally making a scene.

He waited until 10 a.m. to call Judge Kenner. He hadn’t spoken to her in, what? Ten years? Possibly more. He hit call and waited. After several rings, she answered.

“Hello?”

Her voice sounded older, more fragile. “Judge Kenner, it’s Ethan McQueeney. I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“Ethan! My, my. It’s been a while. How are you? How are your parents?”

Getting the pleasantries out of the way, he finally got his opening. “I need to pick your brain,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“Okay, shoot.”

“David Thornton. What do you know about him?”

There was a pause at the other end. Ethan wondered if she heard him.

“David Thornton. Now he was a piece of work,” she finally said. “I’m not surprised he’s dead.”

“Why do you say that?”

“David was involved in questionable dealings and had his fingers in many pies. That man was always looking for an angle to make a quick buck. There were whispers that he was mixed up in something.” She took a moment to think. “Remember, this happened a while back, when I was still on the bench and overheard things.”

Ethan thought back to when she retired. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of years, so whatever she heard would be relevant.

“Like what?” he asked.

She sighed. “I remember something about missing money from a real estate deal. The case never made it to court, the motion withdrawn, and nothing was ever proven.”

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