“Bernice likes you,” the woman said.

“She’s adorable.”

Standing up again, Spenser took in the woman before her. She was a small thing, no more than five-three, with iron gray hair that was cut short, soft pale skin, and rich azure eyes. The woman’s face was smooth and barely lined, making her actual age difficult to determine, but there was something about her, a certain wisdom in her bearing perhaps, that made Spenser think she was somewhere in her seventies. Maybe. Although, Spenser wasn’t an expert on age, so it was just as possible she was in her fifties. She sort of reminded Spenser of that actress Jessica Tandy in Driving Miss Daisy. A little, anyway.

“I think it’s terrible,” the woman said.

“What’s that?”

“What that horrible man Rafe Johansen is doing to you,” she replied.

“Oh. That. Well, I can’t control what they do,” Spenser said. “I can only control how I react to them, and what I do. And at the moment, all I can do is my job.”

“That’s what I like most about you, Sheriff. You’re a no-nonsense, take the bull by the horns kind of woman. You’re a terrific role model for the kids in this town. And if I’m being honest, it’s about time we had a role model in your job.”

“Well, thank you, Mrs.—”

“Mrs. Belton. Anna Belton,” she replied. “I’m single now, my husband Andrew passed away a few years back, but we were married fifty years, so as far as I’m concerned, I’ll never not be his wife, so I’m always going to be Mrs. Andrew Belton.”

Spenser’s face softened. “That’s really sweet. And I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Mrs. Belton’s face clouded with emotion, but she was able to keep it at bay, managing to hold on to her bright and cheery disposition.

“Andrew was a good man. The best I’ve ever known. And we had a lot of good years. I’m fortunate to have had that much time with him. A lot of people don’t get that, so I’m grateful that we had as much time together as we got.”

“Well, I hope to one day be as fortunate as you.”

Belton gave her a wink and a mischievous smirk. “From what I hear, you and that Ryker Makawi are working on doing just that. Can’t blame you. That’s a handsome man right there.”

Spenser’s cheeks reddened, and she looked away at the reminder of the town’s gossip training making the rounds. Her reaction seemed to please Mrs. Belton as she cackled wildly. Though a little embarrassed by flushing like a schoolgirl, Spenser couldn’t help but like the older woman. There was a kindness in her eyes and a sweet, good-natured air around her that was infectious.

The woman’s cackle tapered off and her face grew serious. She studied Spenser for a long moment, not saying anything, but a distinct glint of sadness entered her eyes.

“I imagine that’s what brings you here today,” she said. “Your job, that is.”

“It is.”

“It’s a shame what happened to Seth. He was a kind man. He always brought in my trash cans and even did my shopping for me some days when my arthritis got to be too much. Sometimes, he’d just sit on the porch, and we’d talk,” she said. “He never got tired of listening to me ramble on and on about one thing or another—mostly about my life with Andrew. Or at least, he was nice enough to pretend he never got tired of listening.”

It was a different picture of the selfish, self-absorbed man Spenser had been learning about as she explored this case. It was surprising, but kind of endearing. And while it didn’t wipe away the awful things he did and put Layla through, it was a touch of humanization that reminded Spenser that everybody had many facets. Nobody was all good, and on the flip side of that, nobody was all bad either. Everybody had light and dark within them.

“So, what is it you’re looking for here, Sheriff?”

“Please, just call me Spenser, Mrs. Belton.”

“Spenser it is then,” she replied. “May I ask what it is you’re looking for? I didn’t stop to think whether that was an appropriate question or not.”

“It’s perfectly fine. And I’m just following a hunch.”

“And what might that hunch be, dear?”

“May I ask which house is yours, Mrs. Belton?”

“Oh, of course. It’s right over there.”

Spenser followed the woman’s finger to where she was pointing—the house directly across the street from Hamill. She had knocked on the door earlier and hadn’t gotten an answer. Obviously because Mrs. Belton was out walking her dog.

“Mrs. Belton, were you home on the fourteenth?”

She nodded. “I’m home every day, dear. I don’t get out much anymore. I usually only get out to walk Bernice here… a couple times a day. I do try to stay a little active. They say it keeps the mind and the body sharp.”

“That they do. And they’re not wrong. A little exercise has all kinds of wonderful benefits for your mind and body,” Spenser stated.

“Indeed. Honestly, I feel better today than I did twenty years ago.”

“Well, you look wonderful.”

“Thank you, dear. That’s sweet,” she said. “But that’s how I know I was home on the fourteenth… I’m home every day.”

“I’m sure it’s kind of a longshot, but did you happen to see anybody at Seth’s house that day, Mrs. Belton?”

“Oh, of course. That girlfriend of his stopped by that day.”

“His girlfriend?”

She nodded. “Layla. The artist. Adorable little thing.”

“You’re sure she came by? On the fourteenth?”

“Of course I’m sure, I’m not a doddering old lady. Not yet,” she said. “I remember it was the fourteenth because I had a tele-med appointment with my doctor that day. I finished up about nine-thirty that morning and saw Layla.”

That flicker of optimism in Spenser’s belly blossomed into a bigger fire of excitement. Independent confirmation and corroboration that Layla was at Hamill’s house at the time the person in black was slipping through the back gate was exactly what she needed.

“I told Layla that Seth was gone for the day—I’d given him some homemade scones earlier that morning when I saw him and he was getting ready to head out,” she said. “And she told me she was just dropping something off for him.”

“Mrs. Belton, do you remember what she was wearing, by chance?”

“Of course. She was dressed in black pants and a black sweatshirt—it was that kind with a hood?” she replied. “I thought it was a little dark and dramatic, but that girl has always marched to the beat of her own drum.”

“Was it unusual to see Layla there when Seth wasn’t home?”

“Not really. She had her own key and tended to come and go as she pleased.”

Spenser’s entire body vibrated with the excitement building inside of her as the last pieces of the puzzle started falling into place. With one chance encounter, Mrs. Belton had pulled Spenser out of the gutter of self-pity and frustration and put her back on solid ground.

“Spenser, may I ask what this is about? Why all the questions about Layla?”

She gave the older woman an apologetic look. “Just looking into a few things. That’s all.”