Every House Has a Secret - 27

 

 

Brady gave Rand's suggestion some serious thought before shaking his head. "What good would it do at this late date? None that I can see, with Hodges dead. On top of that, it might, probably would, bring unwanted attention down on Hodges's kids if it proved Hodges killed those guys. Reporters would have a field day and you know it."

 

"Yeah. Sometimes I wonder about some of the members of my chosen profession. The story is everything and damn who gets hurt in the process."

 

"No kidding." Brady gave his husband a hug. "You, of course, are the sterling exception."

 

"Of course. You wouldn't have married me if I wasn't."

 

"Probably not, although the heart can often overlook some obvious faults."

 

"Like when you insist on squeezing the toothpaste from the middle?" Rand grinned.

 

"Yep, even that. Okay, back to this." Brady pointed to the file. "If I were to make a guess, Hodges killed them and then hid the gun, along with the photos of his wife and kids. Why with the photos? Who knows? Maybe to convince himself that what he'd done was justified. At that point, he had the house to himself. It wouldn't have been hard to make the hidey-hole then replaster and repaint without anyone knowing. Every time he was in the living room he could look at the spot and know he'd done the right thing—in his mind."

 

"Then someone found out. One of Emila's sons, probably. But how?"

 

"A good question."

 

"So when we find them, because we know it wasn't the Thatcher brothers the realtor met, we ask."

 

"It wasn't Dennis Junior or George, either. They're way too old now to have been the men the realtor talked to."

 

"I'd say they were George's sons," Rand said. "Dennis Junior only has daughters."

 

"I agree. I'll start tracking them down, but not tonight. We have painting to do, as you pointed out when I got home."

 

"Then let's get moving."