Page 12 of Little Shattered Dreams

“I wasn't addressingyou,Rex,” she said. “I was addressing my daughter. Whatever information you can give me, she can also give me, can she not? If I know my daughter, and I do, she’ll be up to speed on the details, same as you.”

Foley blushed, raised both hands in front of him, and said, “Sure, Darlene. All I ask is that you take this conversation elsewhere. We need to preserve the integrity of the crime scene.”

“I’m well aware. I’m married to a retired chief of police, as you well know. I’d never get in the way of police business. I know how these investigations work and what’s expected of me. I’m a responsible citizen, I assure you.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“Good, it’s settled then.”

Foley gave me a look as if to say,What’s settled? What is she talking about?

I resisted the urge to burst out laughing.

Welcome to the family. Enjoy the ride.

“Why don’t you ladies go have yourselves a chat?” he suggested. “I’ll finish up here.”

“Oh, I'd be happy to leave this room and everyone in it,” my mother said. “But first, I must know. The dead woman … shewasmurdered. Right?”

He seemed torn about whether to divulge information, so I jumped in. “Yes, Mom. It looks that way.”

“When?”

“Sometime tonight. I need you to keep it quiet until the police say otherwise. Okay?”

She snorted a laugh. “Quiet… in a place like this? Can’t imagine that will last. Everyone’s all abuzz. Every corner I turn, I overhear someone’s private conversation.”

Translated, it meant my mother had spent the last two days engaged in what I called “ear extend.” She had a gift for overhearing conversations from several feet away, even when people were whispering.

“Instead of shooing me out the door, you’d be wise to hear what I have to say,” she said. “I know things.Lotsof things.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“For starters, Quinn kept a list of names on her cell phone. Seven names. One person for each day she was here.”

“One person each day?” I asked. “For what reason?”

“To forgive or to be forgiven.”

“I’m not following.”

“Each day she was going to pick a person on the list and work on either forgiving them for what they’d done in the past or forgiving herself for what she’d done to them.”

“And you know thishow?”

She moved a hand to her hip and grinned.

She had information we did not, which pleased her.

“If you must know, I was walking by one of the bungalows the first day we arrived,” she said. “Karl was inside having a session with one of the guests. I overheard a woman say she’d made a list on her phone of people she wanted to talk about. Each day when they met together for a private session, she hoped to work through her feelings for that particular person.”

“The door to Karl’s bungalow is always closed during his sessions. How do you know the woman he was meeting with was Quinn? Did you see her?”

“No, siree.” My mother lifted a finger. “But you know what they’re like. They’re not soundproof, to be sure. If someone like you was in a session, Georgiana, I’d bet it would be hard for anyone to overhear the conversation. Quinn was different. And that voice of hers … high-pitched and squeaky. I’d recognize it anywhere.”

“Did Quinn say anything else we should know?” I asked.

My mother tapped a finger to the side of her face, thinking. “She also planned to reach out to each person when she left the retreat—to make amends, if possible.”

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