I put the car in drive. “What? No. Trappers make hardly any money.”
“Well, according to the property appraiser, Gene lived in a million-dollar home.”
I scrunched up my face. “Really? When I was in high school, he lived in an old trailer on the edge of town.”
“Says here he’s the owner of a five-bedroom, five-bath home with a pool. He just bought it a month ago.”
“Hmm. That’s suspicious, right?”
“Could be. You said he was in line for a TV show. Maybe he’d signed a contract and got some sort of advance.”
“I guess that’s a possibility.”
Silence filled the car as Jack became absorbed in his phone. Every couple of miles, the GPS voice gave directions. I turned down a road, and the GPS said the destination was on the right, five hundred feet. We were in a rural part of town, not far from my sister’s house. But instead of the homes on large lots being old Florida wood cabins, these were new, sprawling McMansions.
I slowed the car to a crawl. “Should be right up here.”
All we could see in the distance was a behemoth of a home, and I slowed. It was one of those new structures that had architectural details from several periods and cultures. Spanish tile on the roof, beige stucco on the outside, plantation columns, and white shutters. There were lion statues flanking the end of the driveway, and a fountain with a dolphin in the middle. It was tacky as all get out.
I cruised toward the Robinson home at five miles an hour. There were no streetlights out here, and it was dark enough to see stars.
“What should we do? Turn in the driveway?”
We craned our necks to the right as we rolled by. The house was dark, with no lights in any of the windows. There also weren’t any cars in the driveway, although there was a large, three-bay garage.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s there,” Jack said.
We were past the house now, and I kept driving. “It’s ten at night, so probably best if we don’t knock now. Maybe she’s sleeping.”
“Or maybe she’s not home.”
“I guess she could be over at his mom’s house. I think she’s still alive, but I’m not sure.” Gene’s mom hadn’t come up in my dad’s updates on town gossip.
“Yeah, we might want to put a pause on this visit for now.” Jack sighed. “I hoped there would be a bunch of cars, maybe some sort of gathering for Gene. That way, we could’ve said we were in the area and were stopping by to give our condolences. Blend in.”
“Right. That would’ve been good.” I swung the car around in the middle of the empty road. “Guess I’ll just head home, then. We’re pretty close, actually.”
As I drove, Jack read aloud more details of Gene’s house. Things like the square footage, date of the pool deck addition, how much he paid in taxes.
I pulled up to our house and killed the engine, then handed him the keys.
“Interesting information, but nothing that will exonerate my sister, or me, from being a suspect.”
“Sadly, no. Not yet. Don’t lose hope.”
We got out of the car and walked up to the front door. I paused, house keys in my hand. This was the awkward part. Tonight had felt a little like a date. But since we were sleuthing, it wasn’t. Although we had flirted a little, and I’d recognized a glimmer of interest in his eyes at various points in the night.
Should we shake hands goodbye? Hug? A kiss on the cheek? Blergh. I was terrible at this. I had to admit that I’d love to find out if he was a good kisser. “Uh, thanks for coming with me tonight. For wanting to help.”
“Hey, anytime. Seriously. I’d love to help with this. I don’t want you and your sister wrongly accused. It happens a lot, you know.”
I nodded. I’d read stories of people who were falsely accused. People who’d even served time who proclaimed their innocence for decades. The gravity of the situation hit me and I grasped the doorframe.
“It’s a little scary, honestly. Makes me dizzy to think about it.”
He nodded grimly. “We’ll work it out. Or you’ll get a good lawyer.”
“Or both.”