Chapter 37 Hope
hope
I waited until eight thirty that night—after Gran went to bed and I knew it was past the girls’ bedtime—and I called Matt.
“My grandmother told me something I need to talk about,” I whispered into the phone.
“Come on over.”
He let me in the kitchen door, poured me a glass of wine, then sat with me at the breakfast room table and listened somberly as I poured out the whole sordid tale.
“Do you think your grandmother’s fears are justified?”
“I don’t know. Maybe her memory is playing tricks on her—or maybe she misunderstood what was going on. One thing is certain, though: she won’t rest until I find that suitcase.”
Matt’s eyes were somber. “If you find it, and it contains what she thinks, you’ll have to call the police.”
Oh, dear Lord. The possibility of a murder investigation hadn’t even occurred to me.
“Are you prepared to do that? And what about your uncle?”
Eddie. Poor, sweet, tenderhearted Eddie. We texted every day and he called several times a week. I’d kept him up to date on Gran’s story, and so far he’d been entirely sympathetic.
“Will he be torn up to find out his father was a murderer?” Matt asked.
I considered the question. “He’ll be upset, but I don’t think it’ll devastate him. They were never that close. My grandfather wanted him to be a man’s man, and Eddie . . . well, he’s into flower arranging.”
Matt smiled.
“Granddad used to say things like ‘don’t be a sissy’ and ‘you’re acting like a Nancy boy,’ things that were really hurtful.”
“It’s a big leap to go from knowing your dad was antigay to learning he might be a murderer.”
“True. But when I told Eddie about Joe, his first question was, ‘Is Joe my father, too?’ He seemed disappointed that he wasn’t.”
Matt was silent for a moment. “You know, there’s another option here, Hope. You can write all this off as the ramblings of an elderly woman who had a head injury and let it go. She might not remember telling you about it in the morning.”
“Oh, she’ll remember.” I took a sip of wine. “Everything she’s told me up until now has been leading to this. She said she has to take care of this so she can die in peace.”
“And you said you’d help her.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
He knew me pretty well. I nodded.
Matt took a thoughtful sip of wine. “Does she have any idea where to look?”
I shook my head. “Just the backyard.”
“Well, suitcases have metal hinges and locks. I know someone who has a professional metal detector. I’ll see if I can borrow it.”
My heart warmed. I put my hand over his. “Thank you so much, Matt.”
“Hold your thanks until we see if we get anywhere.” He squeezed my fingers and looked into my eyes, his expression grim. “You may not thank me if we find what your grandmother fears.”