I think she has some secrets of her own. Maybe I can talk to her, mom to mom, to find out what they are.”
“Let’s go.”
* * *
Nearly an hour later they pulled into the unsettling quiet drive and drove down to the contemporary dwelling. Before they even reached the front steps the door opened and there stood Britta Pringle. She had on a light gray pleated skirt that showed off tanned, toned calves, a blue sweater vest, and a white long-sleeved shirt and gray canvas shoes.
“I saw you coming up the drive,” she explained. “Myron has the whole place under video surveillance.”
“I’m sure he does,” said Pine as she and Blum walked up the steps. “I don’t like just showing up like this. I would have called, but—”
Britta’s look turned weary. “But we don’t have phones or emails. Yes, I know. It definitely cuts down on friendships,” she added—a little unhappily, Pine thought.
“What can I do for you?” Britta asked.
“I wanted to talk to Myron again. I assume he’s up.”
“Yes, he just finished eating.”
“If he could spare some time.”
“What is this about?” said Britta.
“Just some follow-up questions.”
She led them into the house and said, “I heard on the news that another body was discovered in Andersonville.”
“Yes, at the cemetery next to the prison site.”
“My God. Does that mean that there’s a serial killer in our midst?”
“It could. They’ll probably call the FBI in for this.”
“But you’re already here.”
“Yes, but not in my professional capacity. Where’s Myron?”
“He’s floating in the pool. He likes to do that right after he eats.”
“Not a proponent of the thirty-minute-wait rule?” said Blum.
“Oh, he’s not swimming. I’m not sure he can. He’s just lying on a float. He said it helps him to think. Like being in a womb, he says.”
“Can I head out there then?” asked Pine.
“Yes. Certainly.”
When Blum didn’t move to join her, Britta said, “Are you not going with her?”
“I think Agent Pine wants to do this alone. Maybe you and I can chat?”
Britta brightened at this suggestion. “I can make some coffee. And I just baked some muffins.”
“I would love that.”
Pine and Blum exchanged a meaningful glance and then headed off in opposite directions.
Chapter 27
THAT’S A LOT of white skin, thought Pine as she approached the edge of the pool.
Myron Pringle was lying on a blue float wearing a pair of dark swim trunks. His calves hung off the end of the float. He had on a pair of sunglasses. He was so pale and still, he looked like a corpse.
Pine bent down and put her hand in the water. It was heated.
Myron was thin but not very fit and he seemed to have an abundance of hair all over. She didn’t think she could see a defined muscle on the man. But then again she assumed his brain was of Olympic caliber.
“Mr. Pringle?”
He didn’t react to her voice and she thought he might have glimpsed her coming over to the pool but had chosen not to say anything. “Mr. Pringle?”
He finally turned his head slightly.
“Yes?”
“Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Yes I do. This is my thinking time.”
She slid a wicker lounge chair over to the side of the pool and sat down in it. “Well, I can give you something to think about.”
He lifted his glasses to his long, furrowed forehead and stared at her. “Such as?”
“It’s not algorithms, just to forewarn you.”
“It’s about your mother, correct?”
“Care to fill me in on what you didn’t tell me the last time?”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to.”
“Sure you do, you’re a smart guy.”
He lowered the glasses. “I’m apparently not that smart, so you’re going to have to spell it out, Agent Pine.”
“Let me start with a lunch I had recently with Jack Lineberry.”
“Jack, huh? Did he tell you to call him that?”
“He did.”
“Okay.”
“Why? What do you call him?”
“Boss.”
“Would you like to know why he wanted to have lunch?”
“Not particularly.”
“He wanted to know what had happened to my mother.”
“Okay.”
“Do you find that odd?”
He lifted his glasses again. “Where are you going with this?”
“Did you know that Lineberry found my father dead?”
“I think he might have mentioned it.”
“You think? Do you get many people telling you they found the bodies of people who had blown their heads off with a shotgun? I thought your memory was better than average.”
“Okay, yes, I do remember him telling me that. But it was a long time ago. What does that have to do with him wanting to know about your mother?”
“Maybe nothing.”
“What did