Murder in the Boonies: A Sleuth Sisters Mystery (The Sleuth Sisters Book 3) by Maggie Pill Page A

private investigators, and I’m also an attorney. If you come with us, I promise to represent your rights as best I can. We’ll also try to ascertain the present location of your parents.”
    “Our mother,” Pansy said. “We want to know where Mom is.”
    “All right,” Faye said. “Let’s go to the house, where it’s comfortable.”
    I led the way. At first the Isleys walked with Faye, who’s the mom type. Halfway along, however, Pansy, trotted up to my side. “Are you really a private detective?”
    “I am.”
    “And a lawyer?”
    “Retired.”
    She was quiet for a few steps. “Is it hard to get through law school?”
    I smiled grimly. “Yes.”
    “So you have to be really smart?”
    I turned to look at her. “There are different kinds of smart, but yes, lawyers have to study hard, remember a lot, and learn to be good judges of character.”
    “Because people lie to you?”
    “Yes,” I said. “They lie, sometimes in words, sometimes by omission.”
    “What’s that?”
    I slowed my steps. “People often know more than they tell. Good lawyers have a sense for the things they don’t say.” Taking out a tissue, I wiped my nose. Something was pollinating in these woods. I seldom know what causes my sinuses to drip.
    “What does the lawyer do if someone lies?”
    “It depends on the situation. If the person gets to a point where she trusts the lawyer, she’ll probably tell what she knows.”
    After a pause she asked, “What if she doesn’t?”
    I shrugged. “It usually comes out some other way, sooner or later.”
    Glancing at her sideways, I saw Pansy’s shoulders droop. The kid was hiding something, and it weighed on her young mind. I put a hand on her shoulder. “In my years as a lawyer I learned that things generally work out if people think hard about what’s best for everyone.”
    “But how do you know what’s best?”
    I squeezed her shoulder. “It will feel right when the time comes.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    Faye
    The girls seemed relieved to leave the cabin behind, and I guessed they’d been uncomfortable and afraid there. Barb led them through their story while I scoured the kitchen for things I could use to make them a decent meal. Finding ham, eggs, half an onion, and some cheese in the refrigerator, I made a large omelet and cut it into three chunks.
    She began by telling the girls the legal system’s position on abandoned children. I kept injecting hopeful comments, because Barb’s a little scary when she gets going on the law. I knew she was trying to convince the girls they had to tell us more than, “They just left.” Still, quoting precedent is no way to make people relax. In my experience, no matter how much they don’t want to tell something, kids will tell, given time.
    They had almost finished eating when the truck arrived with my horses. Though I was eager to hear what the girls had to say, I went outside to guide my new friends to their new home. They came out of the truck a little skittish, and I couldn’t blame them. It was a new place, and I was a new owner. I led the buckskin (I named her Anni-Frid) and the chestnut, (Agnetha, of course—Who doesn’t love ABBA?) into two of the four stalls available. Aware of how little I knew about the care and upkeep of horses, I substituted affection for expertise, petting and telling them how pretty they were. It seemed to work.
    I returned to the house, where Barb and the girls had washed the dishes and put them away. “They’ve agreed to come into town with us,” Barb told me. “We’ll see what Rory can do about finding their parents.”
    “Our mother,” Pansy corrected again. “Ben isn’t our dad.”
    “Okay,” Barb said agreeably. “We’re going to find your mother.”
    They seemed encouraged by Barb’s positive tone, and we gathered up their things and went outside.
    I’d let Buddy out of the car, and he was back at the lawnmower, digging at the dirt around it. “Buddy, come here!” I called. He