I close the fridge after retrieving a carton of orange juice. "A reporter?" I ask, which is just another indication of how much my life has changed overnight. Holly was absolutely right about that.
Anthony shakes his head and holds out a card. "Says he's a private investigator."
That's when I remember the mortgage Pop took out on the Fishbowl to hire a PI.
Boone grabs the card and brings it over to me.
* * *
Morton Twining
Private Investigator
* * *
I look to Boone. "He has to be the one investigating Mama's murder."
"You want to talk to him?"
Both men are watching me as I weigh the question. Finally, I reply.
"I want to put the past behind me so I can move on. Let it go. If he's figured something out, then I want to know."
"It's totally up to you, sugar."
I give Anthony a nod. "Let him in."
"Will do, boss lady."
Anthony shuts the door behind him, and Boone glances down at my bare legs.
"You might want to find some pants first."
* * *
Morton Twining is quite possibly the most unassuming man I've ever met. He can't be more than an inch taller than me, and although his frame isn't frail, it's definitely not bulky. His light brown hair is thin on top, and his khaki-colored jacket conceals a red-and-blue plaid shirt tucked into khaki pants.
He's very . . . blah.
Once we're seated in the living room, introductions out of the way, Mr. Twining asks his first question.
"Did you publish any songs under your name about twenty years ago, Ms. Fischer?"
What the hell?
"Excuse me?" Boone stiffens on the couch beside me.
Mr. Twining pulls a folder from his brown leather briefcase and lays it on the coffee table. "Since I took on this case, I've been doing a lot of digging in odd places, and one of those places led me to four songs published by Ripley Fischer and Gil Green twenty years ago."
The name Gil Green stands out like a beacon. "Gil Green was my mother's . . . They were . . ."
Twining nods. "Yes, I'm aware. Which is why I thought it was odd that your name was attached to them. The royalties have been accruing to a trust in Green's estate all this time, and no one thought anything of it until his wife passed away about three weeks ago. The lawyers couldn't figure out who Ripley Fischer was and why she was the beneficiary of this particular trust."
Boone squeezes my hip. "That's really friggin' weird."
"Indeed, which is why I wanted to confirm with you that these weren't part of some pet project you and Green might have done when you were a child."
I shake my head. "No. I only met him in passing a couple times. He gave me a guitar once. We never had any kind of relationship."
Twining shuts his briefcase and rises from his seat.
"That's it?"
"I suspect I'll have more questions for you, and the estate will be in touch. Soon, I'd bet. I'm getting closer, but the trail is taking an unexpected turn."
"Unexpected how?"
He dodges the question. "I'll be in touch, Ms. Fischer. You can keep those copies. I thought you might like to see some of what I assume is your mother's work."
And with that, Boone leads him out of the living room.
Well, isn't that just the weirdest freaking thing? I pick up the folder off the table and flip it open to the first page of sheet music. It's a duet about forbidden love.
Nope. Not reading it. It's not like I need more proof of my mother's infidelity.
The name of the second song gives me pause.
"Envy Green on the Vine."
The lyrics are terrible, but I read them anyway. It's all about wanting what someone else has, and wondering how far they'll go to take it from you.
Shivers prickle into chill bumps on my skin.
Who were they writing about? My mom being envious of Gil Green's wife? Or someone being envious of what my mom had?
I get to the final verse and read it three times.
* * *
From the stage in that bar,
I play my guitar,
waiting for a knife in my back.
But as we pile on those lies,
I thank God that I
hid the truth behind
old Willie's eyes.
* * *
It feels like it should mean something, but it makes absolutely no freaking sense.
Who would Mama have been waiting for a knife in the back from? Or was it Gil who feared someone? And what the hell does it mean to hide the truth behind old Willie's eyes?
Boone comes back into the living room. "You okay?"
I nod and look back at the lyrics again before handing the page to him. "Will you read this? That last verse is totally throwing me off."