Where Is Henderson? (Sam Darling mystery #5) by Jerilyn Dufresne Page A

my pocket. I looked through pictures of Clancy and my nieces and nephews and got to the one of the urn on the outside of the train and the one on the inside of the train. I handed the phone to George. “The first one is outside the boxcar, and the second one is inside.” It was kind of obvious, but I said it anyway.
    “Did you notice anything written on the urn?” George asked.
    “No. Although if you make the picture bigger you’ll see that there was scribbling where words might be.”
    “Email those pictures to me, will you?”
    I nodded as I said, “Maybe we ought to get to the factory and check out what the urns look like in person.”
    “Great idea. I’ll do that,” said George, perhaps sarcastically.
    Sometimes I get what I think are great ideas but when I voice them they don’t sound so great. They sound like something everyone else has already thought of.
    “I’ll do that,” he said in a voice devoid of sarcasm this time. “I didn’t ask, but the plant probably has at least two shifts, so it would be open now. No need for you to come along this time.”
    “But…”
    “But I said you could help me and you can. Just let me go to the factory and you’ll be able to help me out later. I’ll tape anything interesting and you can go over the tape with me while we figure out what it means.”
    I felt kind of useless, but I’m not one to stay down for long. “Okay,” I said to a departing George, “Clancy and I will walk back to the B&B. No, we don’t need a ride.” The last sentence was a phantom reply, since he hadn’t offered to take us back.
    Then something hit me. George was already in his car, so I texted him to say, “We have a dinner reservation at 7. Meet you at B&B at 6:45.”
    I had more than an hour to kill, so Clancy and I walked home a different way. We passed a meeting hall with a sign that said, “Worsham Hall, Wednesday, Improve Your Life with Louise Shannon.”
    “That’s it, Clancy! I knew I’d heard of Henderson, Kentucky before. You know I get pamphlets at work all the time advertising workshops. This one must be a self-help or a mental health workshop or I probably wouldn’t have gotten the brochure. Maybe I’ll go to that tomorrow if George won’t let me help him.”
    The rest of the short walk was uneventful, so I talked to Clancy. “You know, I don’t need to improve my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. But if I go to the workshop I might be able to do some investigating on my own. You know—talk to some townspeople about Cash Henderson.”
    That brought a smile to my face that lasted until the next morning.

SEVEN
    I rolled over Clancy to kiss George good morning. As usual, Clancy had wormed her way in between the two of us as we slept.
    “Good morning, sweetie!” I said, as I lingered near George, still smiling.
    “Hey,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “Now this is a great way to wake up. What are you smiling about? It almost looks like you’re up to something.”
    “You’re such a cop,” I said and kissed him on the cheek. “So suspicious.” Rolling back to my side of the bed, I said, “I think we both need to brush our teeth. Last night’s meal was delicious, but sure had a lot of garlic in it.”
    “I’ll shower first,” he said. “I have a long day ahead.”
    I’d interrogated him last night, but he hadn’t had any new information. The plant hadn’t been open after all. I thought that was interesting—maybe they weren’t doing well, maybe they’d never been open more than one shift, or maybe they were closed because of Cash’s death. Several possibilities.
    Besides the food, the other interesting thing that happened at dinner was that the room was buzzing. I guess a murder wasn’t commonplace here, and the victim was a member of a prominent Henderson family. I couldn’t make out a lot of what was being said, but I heard people talking about Cash Henderson, then a lot of whispering. Ah, I wished I was a fly on the wall.