“Yes.”
“I personally removed and donated the entire fireplace set.”
“Do you have proof?”
“Yes.”
“Can you obtain it?”
“I already am.”
I opened my phone.
I searched my email.
The donation center had sent an electronic receipt.
There it was.
May 17.
Previous year.
Donation item description.
One cast-iron fireplace tool set.
Pickup location.
Eleanor Vance residence.
I showed Detective Keene.
She read it.
Then looked at me.
“Could your mother have bought another?”
“Possible.”
“But unlikely.”
“Why?”
“Because after surgery, she replaced it with a lightweight brass decorative set.”
“I helped order it.”
“I have that receipt too.”
I found it.
She studied both documents.
Then asked one question.
“Does your husband know the old set was donated?”
I thought back.
Yes.
He had helped lift it into my SUV.
My stomach turned.
“Yes.”
The detective’s face changed.
“Are you sure?”
“He carried one end.”
Silence.
Then she said.
“Wait here.”
She disappeared down the hall.
Julian watched from across the lobby.
I looked at him.
He looked away first.
