She reached into her apron pocket and took out a small brass key on a green plastic tag.

She held it out to me.

“This opens the padlock on the alley shed we share,” Grace said.

“Your mother kept old house ledgers in that green trunk by the back door.

Lauren was out there three nights ago digging through the papers.”

I took the key, cool brass against my palm.

“Did Lauren say anything to you?”

“I was standing by my garden fence yesterday morning while she was on her cell phone,” Grace said, setting her saucer down on the porch table with a soft click.