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was certain. He didn’t talk about how he’d gotten his limp, but she doubted it was while running a background check on his computer.
    “Well, what I need to do is go in and check on Amelia’s jewelry.”
    “Check on her jewelry?”
    “If Willow saw Amelia fall down the steps, maybe she decided it was a good time to grab the goodies and run. Willow had worked here only a few months, and I have no idea who she is or where she came from. In the business you’re in, I’m sure you run into unsavory people all the time.”
    Cate decided not to offer the information that her experience with private investigation hadn’t been much longer than a bad date.
    Cheryl raised a hand, palm outward. “I’m not making accusations, of course. At least not yet. I do wish Scott were here,” she fretted.
    “Scott?”
    “My husband. He’s up in Seattle at a conference. He was very disturbed about all this when I called him last night. He’s going to rush home as soon as he can.” Cheryl started toward the house steps, but a gust of wind almost tore the umbrella out of her hands. For the first time she apparently noticed that Cate was wet and cold. “Would you like to come inside and warm up? Although it’s not all that warm inside. Amelia always did keep the place cold as an igloo. That’s why I came back out to get a heavier jacket.”
    “I’d appreciate a chance to warm up.”
    “To tell the truth, this is such a creepy old place that I hate to be alone in it, especially with Aunt Amelia dying here only yesterday. Who better for company in a creepy old house than a private investigator?”
    Again Cate held back on listing her shortcomings in that area. Inside, Octavia met them at the door. Thankfully, cats couldn’t ask incriminating questions, such as, Oh, you’re back again?
    “There’s the cat now,” Cheryl said. “Spoiled rotten monster that she is. You wouldn’t believe how much that cat food Amelia feeds her costs. And white hair! It’s all over the place. Shoo!” She flapped the umbrella at the cat.
    “Did the police say anything about how your aunt happened to fall?” Cate asked.
    “All the officers said last night was that Amelia had fallen on the steps and was dead. They did ask a lot of questions about her health and medications. She took all those pills, but I always suspected she was more of a hypochondriac than actually ill. But it’s a wonder something ghastly hadn’t happened here long before now.” Cheryl waved a hand around the living room. “Just look at this.”
    Cate wasn’t certain what she was supposed to look at. The sleek furniture? The garish but probably expensive painting over the fireplace? Nothing dangerous so far as she could see. “The inside of the house isn’t nearly as gloomy as the outside,” she offered tentatively.
    “But it’s all so wrong .” Cheryl waved her arms with a fervency that Cate thought a bit overdone considering that they were talking furniture, not worldwide injustice. “My interior decorating business specializes in feng shui . . .” She whipped out a card and handed it to Cate.
    Interiors by Cheryl. Feng Shui to improve your environment and your life. Cheery rays streaming from a golden sun decorated the card, apparently the cheerful life you’d have if you got your environment properly feng-shuied.
    “Proper alignment makes all the difference in our lives.”
    Is that what she needed? Her own life was not exactly well-aligned. Dead-end job situation. Fizzled romantic relationships. Bad haircut. Bank balance that looked like a ten-year-old’s piggy-bank savings. Lack of success with the easy assignment Uncle Joe had given her. But she doubted any of that was because her bed wasn’t properly aligned with the door or wall. “Do you plan to live here?”
    “Live here?” Cheryl almost shuddered. “No way. We have a lovely home over in Springfield. My husband is with a prestigious stock brokerage firm here in Eugene. I don’t know what