"It was Trish," Grace said.

"How could you have possibly known that?" I asked.

"It just makes sense. Who else could your source be?"

I shrugged, then said, "I wonder if Peg had any money."

"I don't know, but we can find out," Grace said as she came out wearing blue jeans and T-shirt. It was the same kind of outfit I wore every day, but somehow she made it look special.

We were getting into Grace's car when my cell phone rang.

After saying hello, George told me, "I had one of my buddies run a check on Peg to see if she had a record. She was clean, but something interesting popped up. It turns out her second ex-husband was arrested for assault. From what I understand, he has quite a temper, but I can't really see it as a motive for murder. They've been divorced for six years. It's a little long to wait to get even, wouldn't you think?"

"Who knows how some people's minds work?" I asked. "Thanks for calling."

"I'll keep you informed," he said, and then hung up.

We pulled up in front of Peg's house and saw Heather's old car parked in the driveway.

As we walked up the steps, Grace asked, "Do you think Heather will mind that I tagged along?"

"Are you kidding? She's overwhelmed with the job. I'm sure she'll take whatever help she can get."

I rang the doorbell, and Heather came out, already looking tired and defeated. "Hey, Suzanne. It's worse than I thought."

I said, "That's why I brought reinforcements. Heather, have you met my best friend Grace?"

"No, it's a pleasure," Heather said as she shook Grace's hand. "You must be a good friend to be willing to do this."

"There's nothing I like better than cleaning," Grace said.

It took everything I had not to laugh.

As we walked inside, I asked, "So, where would you like to get started?"

Heather looked around trying to figure out where best to put us to work, and that gave me a chance to size up Peg's place. It was decorated impeccably, something that shouldn't have surprised me. Peg wasn't afraid to spend money on herself, and the furnishings proved it. Thick Oriental rugs covered hardwood floors polished to a bright shine, while antiques were everywhere. Crystal candy bowls were everywhere, filled with butterscotch candies, peppermints, and wintergreen lozenges. There was a nice selection of art hanging on the walls, and I realized that whoever inherited this from Peg was going to find themselves with a windfall. If her beneficiary was her niece, Heather was going to find it easier to pay for college than she ever could have imagined.

"Why don't one of you start on the master bedroom and the other one take her home office. I'm up to my ears in the kitchen, so any help you can give me will be greatly appreciated."

"What exactly is it that you want us to do?" Grace asked.

"I'm looking for any papers that will help me figure out what I should do next. The lawyer told me I'm her executor, but I haven't been able to find much in the way of paper trails. Too, if you run across something that looks valuable, set it aside." She must have realized how that sounded, because she quickly added, "I'm not treasure hunting. I just have to have the house ready to sell in a week, so anything that's not worth much has to go. Once I've sorted through everything, I can figure out what to do with the rest."

"Were you her only beneficiary?" I asked. It might have been an indelicate question, but it was something I needed to know.

"I haven't even seen the will yet, so I don't know. I was just told to do this, so that's all I'm concerned about at the moment. Honestly, I won't mind if I don't get a dime. There are some old photographs I'd like to have and a few other keepsakes, but other than that, I don't really care who gets it."

I nodded. "Then we'll do our best to help you sort this all out."

Grace and I walked down the hallway, and I asked, "Which room do you want?"

"I'll take the bedroom," she said. "You know how I feel about paperwork."

"Then I'll handle the office." I lowered my voice as I added, "If you find anything that's of interest to us, show me first."

"Right back at you," she said, and we split up.

While the public part of the house had been pristine, the office was a train wreck. Papers were stacked everywhere, and it would take a forensic accountant to figure out Peg's ultimate worth. But that wasn't going to stop me from my search.

An hour into it, I hadn't turned up any clues about what might have happened to Peg, but I did have a much clearer picture of her financial status.

The woman had been loaded. It all became clear once I found her investment log buried under a pile of grocery store receipts and take-out menu flyers. The first entry in the log showed a $50,000 entry as a divorce settlement from her angry ex-husband, and I could see a reason why he'd been so mad. Peg had parlayed that initial investment into stock, which she soon sold at a huge profit, and then split into more stock, then real estate investments in town, and a pretty healthy pile of certificates of deposit to boot. Who knew she was so well off? It wasn't a million dollars when it all added up, but it was within shouting distance of it. I had to wonder what her will said. Had she left her money to Heather, or had she given it to someone else? Say a boyfriend like Burt. Then again, it was just idle speculation at this point. Peg could have left every dime to the Society to Outlaw Daylight Savings Time for all I knew.

I needed to find out exactly what that will said. I had a hunch it might lead me to another suspect.

I jotted down some notes on a separate sheet of paper, and was just closing the log when the office door opened.

I quickly folded the sheet up and tried to stick it in my pants pocket.

"If that's a grocery list, don't forget eggs," Grace said. "People are always forgetting them."

"Hey," I said. "Come here and look at this."

I showed her the log, and she whistled softly when she saw the bottom line. "That's a motive in my book."

"I know, but who gets it? That's the question."

"I'd love to know," I said as I shut the book and buried it back under the papers I'd been riffling through.

"Maybe we can find out. Don't you have a contact at the courthouse?"

"I used to, but I don't know anyone there now," I said. "Who could we ask?"

"Why don't you call George? He's working part-time there, isn't he? Maybe he can find out."

I bit my lip, then said, "I don't know. I've been asking him so much lately, I hate to push it."

"Don't worry about it. We'll come up with a way to find out," she said. Grace's eyes lit up as she added, "I almost forgot why I came in here."

She shoved a well-worn note into my hand.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Open it. I found it in one of Peg's jacket pockets."

I did as she asked, and began to read it. In a strong hand, it said, Peg, There's no use trying to change my mind.

I won't allow it, and you should be prepared for the consequences.

There was no signature, just a torn bit of paper at the edge.

"Where's the rest of it, Grace?"

"It's all I could find, but I'll keep looking." I shoved the note into my pocket, then said, "You know what? I have to give Heather the log I found. It's exactly what she's been looking for."

"You're right." Grace looked around the room, then said, "This must have been the only messy room in her house."

"You mean the bedroom isn't like this?"

Grace laughed. "No, it's as neat as a pin. Not the bathroom, though."

"What's it like?"

"Did you know that Peg dyed her hair? I found a freshly opened box of hair dye in her bathroom, but it wasn't a brand I'd ever heard of. In fact, there were generic items everywhere, from her toothpaste to her shampoo."

I thought about the incongruity to the log, then I said, "Maybe that's the reason she had so much money when she died."

I dug out the financial log just as Heather came in.

The hope in her voice was just about gone when she asked us, "Did you find anything?"

"We were just coming to get you," I said.

I handed her the log, and as she opened it, I watched her read the numbers as they continued to grow almost exponentially.

She looked like she was going to faint by the time she got to the bottom line. "Are you all right?" I asked.

"I had no idea she was worth this much," she said.

"I doubt anyone else knew, either."

Heather nodded absently. "I'd better get this to her lawyer's office. This is one of the things he asked me to find."

"Can we give you a ride?"

"No, Mr. Crenshaw works in Union Square. I wonder why Aunt Peg didn't use someone closer to home?"

"Maybe she didn't want anyone in town to know how much she was actually worth," Grace said.

I'd thought it, but I wasn't going to say it. "We'll be glad to keep working while you're gone." There was still a great deal more hunting I wanted to do in the house, and without worrying about Heather popping up, Grace and I would be able to do it much quicker.

"I'd better not," Heather said. "I trust you completely, but Mr. Crenshaw was pretty specific. No one can be here unless I'm here, too. Thanks for your help in finding this."

"We were glad to help," I said as Heather walked us out, the log tucked safely under her arm.

Once she was gone, Grace said, "We could always break in."

"I don't think so. Think how happy it would make Chief Martin if he could lock me up. I'm certainly not going to give him any reason to." I added, "She's going to be rich, isn't she?"

"Heather? Probably. That's a lot of money we're talking about."

I bit my lip, then I said, "I wonder if she's telling the truth."

"About what?" Grace asked me.

"Knowing about her aunt's money. It's enough reason for a great many folks to commit murder, wouldn't you say?"

Grace shrugged. "A hundred dollars is enough motivation for some people, but I don't think she's a killer. Do you?"

"I'm just not sure," I said after giving it a little more thought.

As we got into Grace's car, she asked, "Did you notice anything odd in the house?"

"Besides what a wreck the office was?"

"Think about it. There wasn't a single photograph anywhere in the place."

"Maybe she didn't like pictures," I said.

"But didn't Heather say that's what she was looking for?"

I shrugged. "Who knows? They could be in a box in that office and no one may ever find them. I can't believe how wealthy Peg was."

"You never can tell, can you?"

I took the note out of my pocket again and reread it.

"Is it from Burt?" Grace asked.

"That's my guess," I said. "But the problem is, I don't have a sample of his handwriting to compare it to."

"That shouldn't be hard to get," Grace said. "I can get him to place an order for something for me, and we'll be able to compare his handwriting with that."

"Just don't let him know why you want it," I said.

"Trust me, he won't have a clue."

As Grace started to drive away from Peg's house, she said, "What do you have planned for the rest of our afternoon?"

"What makes you think I have a plan?"

"I know you, Suzanne. There's got to be something else we can do."

I admitted, "I need to talk to Marge to see if her story matches Burt's about their dating history. I hate to interrogate a friend, but I don't have any choice."

"I'll come with you," she said.

"To be honest with you, I'm not sure Marge will speak as freely in front of you, Grace." I hated to hurt my best friend's feelings, but this was something I had to do alone. Knowing Marge, if I brought reinforcements with me, she'd clam up and wouldn't say a word. But if I could convince her that we were just having a chat between two friends, she might open up, and I could learn something.