Galton.
âYes,â Catherine said slowly. âIt was really kind of strange. Miss Gaites said she had heard that someone was moving into the old office, and she knew there were some things in there that Jerry Selforth hadnât wanted to buy. She wanted to know if I needed help moving them.â
Catherine remembered smothering her dislike, to preserve the false face of friendliness she and Leona had always worn when they dealt with each other.
A waste of time, Catherine thought now. And it had been funny-peculiar, her calling like that.
Catherine really had needed help getting those filing cabinets up the collapsible folding stairs that let down from the attic in her fatherâs old office. And she had still been suffering from the âbe nice to Leona, she has no familyâ syndrome. So she had accepted Leonaâs help with protestations of gratitude.
Though why someone with no family would care to haul heavy things up flimsy stairs, any more than a person with seventy relations, is more than I can figure out, she said to herself.
âWhat did you talk about that day, Catherine?â asked Galton.
âWell.â She hesitated. âThe largest things that had to be moved were filing cabinets that Father kept patient files in. Some people still havenât asked for their files, to take over to Jerryâs new office. Leona was saying how nice it was that some people were so healthy that they hadnât needed their records for such a long time; that now that the files were going up in the attic, it would be a lot of trouble when someone finally got sick and realized she had to have her recordsâ¦I think I asked Leona if she had applied to be Jerryâs nurse; and she said no, she had heard he had a friend who was getting the job, a girl who was going to commute from Memphis. Thatâs all I remember.â
The sheriff âs only response was a small movement of his huge hand. Catherine wondered if he had been listening. Then she thought clearly, Heâs trying to decide how to ask me something.
Catherine grew nervous at this hiatus and lit a cigarette. To break the silence, she asked quietly, âHow did she die?â
âShe died in her house,â Galton said heavily. âShe was beaten to death. With something rounded and heavy; like a baseball bat.
Catherine went very still and bit the inside of her mouth. Anything she could say would be inadequate.
âCatherine.â
Her eyes were blurry with tears of shock. She blinked and Galton came into focus again. She was warned by the sharpness in his face. Something important was coming up.
âDid you sell any of your fatherâs equipment to Leona?â
If she had formed any idea of what Galtonâs question would be, that was not it.
âWhat? Why would Leona want anything from the office? I sold almost everything to Jerry.â
âWhat didnât you sell to Jerry?â
âBesides those filing cabinets in the atticââ Catherine made an effort to concentrate, but she was too confused to remember. âLeona knew. She did all that, made the list for the lawyer. Fatherâs estate. I was too upset,â Catherine said miserably. She had always felt some guilt for shoving the task off on Leona, though Leona had certainly been more qualified to do it. âMaybe thereâs still the list of stuff for the lawyer? That you could check against what Jerry has now?â
Galton didnât comment on her weak suggestion, or explain why he had asked her, she noticed uneasily; but the mention of estates had given her something to chew on.
âIs there anything I ought to do? About Leonaâs house? Or about having her buried? She didnât have any kin, you know.â Catherine hated to offer, but knew she had to. It was the least and last thing she could do for Leona.
âHer lawyer, John Daniels, will handle all that, Catherine. She left a will. Itâs a few years old;
Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child