Read Online Skeletons in the Attic (A Marketville Mystery Book 1) by Judy Penz Sheluk - Free Book Online Page A

thinking along the same lines, so I already have the measurements, plans, digital renderings, and an estimate based on the quality of finishes he wanted. I can also give you the name of a couple of other reputable contractors who can do the same thing.”
    “I don’t need to call anyone else. I trust that my father would have done his due diligence.”
    “If you’re sure—”
    “I’m positive. When can I see the plans?”
    “How about I come by Monday morning? Say nine o’clock? But fair warning, renovations are messy, they take time, and they can get expensive, depending on what sort of fixtures and finishes you select.”
    “Messy I can deal with and I’ve got time. As for the budget, my dad did leave me some money for renovations. Hopefully it’s enough.”
    “We’re used to working with budget restraints. As long as you understand that unless the sky’s the limit, there are going to be compromises.”
    “Understood.”
    “Then it’s settled. Now, enough shop talk for this evening. Let me help you clear the dishes so we can both enjoy a glass of wine.”
    Hunky, handy, and willing to do dishes. Now that was a winning combination. Still, I couldn’t in good conscience ask a dinner guest to help me clean up.
    “You relax on the couch. It’ll only take me a few minutes.” Another thought struck me. The photographs.
    “You mentioned that you grew up in Marketville. Would you mind looking at some pictures in the meantime?”
    “Pictures? Like on your phone?” Royce’s eyebrows knit together in a worried expression, as if I might be one of those annoying people who took hundreds of photos on their phone and expected you scroll through them one by one.
    “Not on my phone. These are real photographs. There are only four of them. They were taken with my mother and father. I was hoping that you might recognize the setting. I have to warn you, though. There’s a slight catch.”
    “There’s always a catch,” Royce said, but he said it with a smile. “What’s this one?”
    “The pictures were taken about thirty years ago.”
    “You don’t make things easy, do you?” Still smiling, maybe even a little bit flirtatious.
    “Sorry.” Smiling back.
    “No apology necessary. I’m more than willing to give it a whirl. But wouldn’t it be easier just to ask your mom?”
    “I assumed you knew. My mother left us on Valentine’s Day, 1986. She never even left a note. We never saw or heard from her again.”
    “I had no idea. It must have been horrible for you and your father.”
    “We managed.”
    “Do you think your father rented the house out all these years in the hopes she’d come back for him?”
    I wanted Royce’s help but I wasn’t prepared to play twenty questions. “I don’t know. He didn’t really talk about her much.”
    “I’m sorry. Clearly I’m overstepping. Let me take a look at the photographs, see if I can recognize the setting.”
    I whipped into the kitchen and grabbed them from the drawer before he could change his mind.
    “Thanks, Royce,” I said, handing the envelope to him. “I’ll leave you to it while I do the cleanup. Oh, and I made a tiramisu for dessert, if you’re interested.”
    “Tiramisu. You’re a goddess. When we have coffee, a bit later though, okay? Another glass of wine first?”
    “I can live with that.”
     
    I knew the minute I walked back in the living room that something had changed. There was a tension in Royce’s shoulders that hadn’t been there before.
    “Where did you find the photos?” he asked.
    “In the attic.” I decided not to mention where in the attic. “Why? Do you recognize the spot?”
    Royce nodded. “I’m fairly certain these were taken in the park next to the public school on Primrose Street a couple blocks north of here. The tree is a lot bigger now, but if you look closely at the winter photograph, in the left hand corner you can see a tiny bit of brown and yellow speckled brick in the background. That would be the