“He’s not trying to stop us, is he?” I asked. “You’d think that he’d be all for it, given the situation he’s in. Should I talk to him?”
“Hang on a second, Eleanor. Bob just told me that he didn’t mean to sound so negative last night about our plans to investigate. He wanted to make sure that I knew that he was all for us seeing what we could find out about Grant, and why anyone would want to kill him.”
“Wow, pardon me for saying so, but he was never exactly gung ho about our investigations in the past.”
She grinned. “Believe me, I haven’t forgotten, either. As a matter of fact, I just reminded him of that.”
“What did he say when you did?”
“He told me that after spending a nearly sleepless night, he’s come to the conclusion that our digging couldn’t hurt, and it might just help. It wasn’t exactly high praise, but I took it gladly from him.”
“What’s he going to do about it himself?” I asked as I finished washing the last plate, rinsed it, and handed it to Maddy to dry.
“He’s going to keep a low profile, keep working, and hope that somebody figures out who killed my ex-husband before the rumors and speculation do too much damage to his reputation.”
As I drained the water from the sink, I said, “I’ve been thinking about something, and I was wondering if you had any clue about what Sharon Whitmore might have left you.”
Maddy shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest idea. We kept in touch after the divorce, but we weren’t exactly best friends, if you know what I mean. We spoke on the phone once a month, and a couple of times a year we got together and had lunch.”
“How did I not know about that?”
She smiled at me. “Eleanor, I have a life outside of the Slice, even if it’s not much of one. As to what she might have left me, I have a hunch it’s her slides.”
“She had slides? A woman that age? Wasn’t she afraid of breaking a hip or something?”
“Photographic slides,” Maddy said. “Sharon loved to put on slideshows of her photographs, and I thought they were really quite good, but her own children didn’t mask their boredom for her passion.”
“What were the pictures of?” I asked.
“Mostly just clouds,” Maddy said.
Surely I’d misheard her. “Clowns?” What a garish collection that must be. I’d been distrustful of clowns since my seventh birthday party, when the hired entertainment, a red-nosed mess named Beebobu, showed up drunk and promptly threw up on my Princess Persephone birthday cake.
“Clouds, as in those white puffy things that are up in the sky. She had some remarkable shots, and she was always eager to show me her latest images whenever we got together.”
“Why would Grant care if you got those?” I asked.
Maddy shook her head. “It’s not all that hard to imagine that he didn’t want me to have anything of his mother’s. Grant didn’t make any bones about the fact that he hated that his mother and I still kept in touch. You want to know something? I’m not signing that paper for Rebecca, and I wouldn’t have signed it for Grant, either. If Sharon wanted me to have something, then I’m going to make sure I get it. Anything else would dishonor our genuine friendship.”
“Clouds,” I repeated. “They really must be something.”
“Just wait. You’ll be impressed. I guarantee it.”
“We have some time before we have to go in and prep for opening the Slice today. Who should we speak with first? Do you have any idea where Grant lived?”
“I already tracked it down. I did a little digging last night, after we said good night,” she admitted.
“How could you do that? You don’t have your computer with you, do you?”
“No, but my phone has Internet access,” she admitted.
“It’s really pretty amazing what I can do with it. You really should upgrade yours, you know.”
“No, thanks. I’m not all that keen on having a cell phone at all. The basic unit is just fine for my needs.”
She frowned. “Suit yourself. Anyway, I did a few searches on Grant, and believe it or not, I found out that he moved back in with Sharon last year.”
“Are you telling me that Grant lived with his mommy?” I asked. It was hard to imagine that self-important and overly inflated ego living under someone else’s roof. “What happened to make him do that?”
“He got yet another divorce,” Maddy said, “and evidently, the final ex–Mrs. Whitmore had a craftier attorney than I did. She took him to the cleaners but good.”