Last Grave (9781101593172) by Debbie Viguié Page B

admitted. Just the thought of trying to talk to Anthony about anything suddenly seemed overwhelming. “What’s your day like?”
    â€œI’ve got a meeting this morning with a woman. Part of the research for my thesis.”
    Jill was getting her master’s in anthropology, and she was doing her thesis on the mission era in California and the effect of the Spanish settlements on the native populations, particularly relating to changes in religion and mythology. Jill was serious about her studies and had learned a couple of the oldest dialects spoken in the area as part of her program.
    â€œAnyone interesting?”
    â€œA friend of the family’s. Colorful. She’s a historian and a local celebrity. She knows a lot about the ancient lore of the area.”
    Alarm bells were suddenly going off in Samantha’s head, and she sat up straight, spinning to fully face Jill.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Jill asked.
    â€œYou’re not going to see Winona Lightfoot, by any chance?”
    â€œYes. Do you know her?”
    Not again. Not twice in one night. Not when I’m so tired I just want to pass out here in the hallway.
    â€œJill, you might want to sit down here with me,” Samantha said, patting the carpet.
    â€œWhy? What’s going on?” Jill asked.
    And her face slowly drained of color, because deep down, she already knew the answer. Samantha could see the flicker of comprehension in her eyes, followed immediately by dread.
    â€œWinona was the one killed last night.”
    Jill pressed a hand to her mouth as her eyes widened even more. “No, that’s not possible!”
    â€œI’m afraid it is. Her body was found at the Natural History Museum.”
    Slowly, Jill slid down onto the floor next to her. “But I’m supposed to meet her today. She can’t be dead.”
    â€œShe is. That was the call I went out for last night.”
    Jill looked at her sharply. “Wait, what? The call you got? That’s not possible.”
    â€œWhat makes you say that?”
    â€œAfter you left, I was too wired to go back to sleep. I checked my phone and saw that Winona had texted me, asking if we could meet in the morning instead of the afternoon like we’d originally planned.”
    â€œWhat time did she text you?” Samantha asked, suddenly very alert.
    â€œIt hadn’t been that long. I texted back agreeing, asking what time. And—”
    Jill broke off and looked like she was about to start hyperventilating. Her cheeks had lost all color, and she was taking fast, shallow breaths.
    Samantha grabbed her hand. “And what?”
    â€œShe sent me another text after that saying ten thirty.”
    â€œJill, where’s your phone?” Samantha asked, jumping to her feet.
    â€œOn the kitchen table next to my purse.”
    Seconds later, Samantha had the phone and was staring at the string of messages.
    Jill joined her shortly. “What does it mean?” she asked.
    â€œWe didn’t find Winona’s phone at the crime scene. And these texts were sent after she was killed.”
    â€œWhat are you saying?”
    â€œI’m saying that whoever was texting you, it wasn’t Winona. It was probably her killer.”
    â€œOh my—why? Why would someone do that?”
    Jill’s voice had risen an octave and she was going into a full-fledged panic.
So much for only dealing with centuries’ old bodies.
    Maybe to kill you too,
Samantha thought. She kept it to herself, though, not wanting to frighten Jill more than she had to at the moment.
    â€œI don’t know, but I’m going to help you figure it out. And you could help us solve her murder.”
    Jill sat down at the kitchen table, and Samantha walked over to the fridge and got them both some orange juice. She set Jill’s glass down in front of her and saw that tears were shimmering in her eyes.
    â€œYou got anything strong to put in it?” Jill