Since I could only guess at his motivations, I shrugged. “Maybe he was waiting to see if there was anything worth investigating.”
“Maybe.”
She sounded dubious, though, as if she wasn’t quite sure that was the reason why he hadn’t tried to settle in a bit. For a moment, she stood in the middle of the room, both hands wrapped around the handles of the canvas bag she held. Then she said, “I think you’re right.”
I tilted my head at her. “Right about what?”
“About this house.” Her gaze traveled the room, which was just as carefully furnished as the rest of the Bigelow mansion — the walls had wallpaper striped in dark green and cream, and the quilt and curtains echoed that color scheme. A rug in muted tones of green and beige covered the polished wood floor. Bright afternoon sunlight streame
