I let out a low whistle under my breath, because Great Aunt Frances even has her very own murder board. It stretches from floor to ceiling, with her name and picture at the center. Colored string reaches out toward old photos that are pinned all over the wall, and Post-its, notebook paper, and newspaper clippings fill nearly all the gaps in between. “Well, this is taking it a bit far,” Elva mutters, looking at the murder board.
