Page 51 of Canyon Killer
“Nineteen eighty-five.”
“There might be something in her obituary, maybe mention of a close male friend.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Bethany said. “I’ll have to go back to the historical society.”
“There’s no guarantee he would be listed in the obituary if they never married,” Ian said. He turned into the parking area for the cemetery. “And she died ten years after Gerald and Abby. If she did have someone acting on her behalf to exact revenge, that person might have been out of the picture by then.”
Eagle’s Rest Memorial Park was a tree-shaded expanse of ground near the river, dotted with grave markers and monuments. Ian and Bethany stopped just inside the entrance and stared at the neat rows of graves. “How are we going to find her?” she asked.
“I guess we start walking and reading,” he said and led the way down the nearest aisle between graves.
They located Katherine Boston’s headstone after only fifteen minutes. Beneath her name and dates of birth and death was a single word:Beloved.
“Whoa!” Bethany gripped Ian’s arm. “Beloved of whom? A lover?”
“Or a relative or friend,” he said. “Belovedcan mean a lot of things.”
“Who’s buried nearby?” she asked. “That might give us a clue.”
They scanned the graves to either side. One was a family of five named Creech, the dates of their deaths ranging from 1916 to 2018. On the other side was a man named Davies and his wife.
“Maybe she was Davies’s mistress?” Bethany asked.
“Except he died a year before she did.” Ian pointed out the date. “His wife died two years later, but I doubt she would have agreed to put her husband’s mistress next to him or order a grave marker with the wordbeloved.”
“I see what you mean.” She returned to stand in front of Katherine’s grave. After a moment, she straightened. “I just realized something,” she said.
“What is it?” Ian asked.
“Whoever loved Katherine, that person is still alive.”
“How do you—” Then he saw the flowers laid at the base of the marker. A bouquet of daisies, still fresh.
It stood out in the row of otherwise unadorned graves. Bethany knelt and checked the wrapping around the bouquet. “No indication of a florist,” she said. She looked around. “Let’s check that building over there. Maybe there’s an attendant or something.”
Before they reached the building, they encountered a man by a shed, filling a lawnmower with gasoline. “Do you work here?” Bethany asked.
The man straightened. He was very tall—six inches taller, if not more, than Ian, who was at least six feet. He had long arms, long legs and a long face with deep lines alongside his mouth. “I’m the caretaker,” the man said. “Can I help you?”
“We were visiting a grave,” Bethany said. “Katherine Boston. She’s over there.” She pointed toward the row that contained Katherine’s site. “And we noticed fresh flowers on her grave. Do you know who brought them?”
“Why do you want to know?” the man asked.
“Um, so I can thank them,” she said. “It’s such a nice thing to do.”
The caretaker didn’t say anything.
“Do you know who put the flowers on Ms. Boston’s grave?” Ian asked.
“Don’t know,” the man said and picked up the gas can once more.
“Have you seen anyone around her grave?” Bethany asked. “With or without flowers?”
The man shook his head and returned to pouring gas into the mower.
Ian took her arm. “Let’s go.”
Back at the Jeep, Bethany could scarcely contain her agitation. “I’m sure Katherine is the key to this mystery,” she said. “She was the woman scorned. Craig said she hated Gerald enough to kill him.”
