Chief sat back in her seat and regarded me a long moment before speaking. “That doesn’t explain why you were in Ms. Granderson’s room without her present, nor without her permission.”
“I went up to talk to her, found the door unlocked, and went inside.” I tried not to flinch with the lie, and I think I mostly succeeded. I hated lying to Chief Dalton. If she knew the truth, that I’d talked an innocent man into helping me, she would lose whatever respect she had left for me. I didn’t want that. While I might not be looking to date her son any longer, we were friends.
“Ms. Granderson believes she locked her door before she left.”
Uh-oh. “You talked to her?”
“I did.”
I scrambled for something to say, and only came up with, “What did she say?”
“Lucky for you, she doesn’t want to press charges. Nor does Ted or Bett Bunford. You are not to go back to the bed-and-breakfast, however. If you do, you’ll find yourself in a cell so fast, your head will spin.”
I nodded, grateful. “I was only peeking,” I said. “I thought that if maybe she stole the real necklace, then perhaps she’d have it in her room. When I saw the door was unlocked . . .” I trailed off at the shake of her head.
“You just happened to test the knob and found it unlocked? I find that hard to believe.”
“I’m nosy.”
I wasn’t sure how to take it, but Chief Dalton seemed to accept that explanation. “Do you believe Ms. Granderson had anything to do with Ms. Carr’s murder?”
My eyebrows shot skyward. Was she actually asking me my opinion? “I’m not sure,” I said, carefully. This could also be some sort of trick to implicate myself in unlawful snooping. I had a feeling I wasn’t completely off the hook quite yet.
Chief Dalton leaned forward again, forced me to look at her. “I’m not going to nail you for what you did. If Ms. Granderson and Mr. and Mrs. Bunford are comfortable with your banning, I am too.” She held up a finger, much like my mother used to do when she was going to lecture me and wanted to cut off any objections I might have before I could start. “But if you know something and aren’t telling me, I’m going to come after you. I know you. You couldn’t leave a murder alone, even if you tried.”
Compliment? I doubted it.
“I didn’t find the necklace,” I said.
“I didn’t think you would. We found it on Ms. Carr.”
“You found a fake one,” I reminded her. “Gina insists the one she had was real.”
“And you think whoever has the real necklace now could very well be our killer?”
“I do.” Or at least, I hoped so. I supposed it was possible that whoever took it could have discarded it or, worse, planted it on someone else.
“And if this necklace has nothing to do with Ms. Carr’s death?”
I shrugged. “Then I don’t know what to tell you.” And I was being honest. Other than rumor, I didn’t really know anything. I was sure the police already knew about the various arguments between the actors and Cathy Carr. And if not, they’d find out on their own eventually. It wasn’t like I had to force anyone to tell me about them, so the spats weren’t any great secrets. If I did bring them up myself, it would only make Chief Dalton realize how much I’d been asking around, and I was pretty sure she wouldn’t approve.
As much as I wanted the killer caught, I didn’t want to spend the rest of the day explaining myself. Selfish? Maybe. But right then, I just wanted out of there.
Chief Dalton rubbed at her eyes and sighed. “Would you listen if I told you not to go near my suspects?”
“Of course, I’d listen.” Obey? I wasn’t so sure about that.
Chief seemed to realize the same. “You do realize you would be our top suspect if we didn’t know you so well,” she said. “You’re the only person we can place at the house that night. You had the weapon in hand when the Pattersons returned home. If this was some other town, you’d likely already be sitting behind bars.”
“Thanks?” It came out as a question.
“And I suppose I’d better tell you that we were at your place earlier. Got a couple of calls saying you might have evidence in your home.”
Gina. Vicki had warned me her mom was pressing the police to look for her necklace at my place, but I didn’t think they’d actually do it.
“And?” I asked, keeping my face neutral.
“Found nothing, as expected. Your father was friendly and cooperative, let us in without complaint. He did keep a close eye on us, though.” She chuckled as if it amused her.
“I didn’t kill Cathy. And I didn’t steal anything,” I said.
“I know.” Chief Dalton gave me a weary smile. “Please, just tell me if you learn anything. I’d rather not have to investigate your murder because you got too close to the wrong person.”
“I will,” I promised. And I would; once I had some time outside the police station to reflect on what I actually did know. So far, it was all just speculation and rumor. You couldn’t build a case on that.
“And stay away from Lyric Granderson. She has a solid alibi.”
“She does?”
Chief Dalton frowned as if she hadn’t meant to tell me that, and then stood. “Trust me. It wasn’t her.”
I tentatively rose from my seat. When she didn’t tell me to sit back down, I followed her to the door.
“I’ll have Officer Garrison drive you to your car. You won’t make me regret letting you go, will you?”
“No, ma’am. I’ll get right in and drive home as soon as she drops me off.” My car was still at Ted and Bettfast. And while the temptation to go in and talk to Lyric, even to apologize, would be strong, I was determined to resist it.
For now.
“I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with that.”
Chief Dalton led me out of the interrogation room and to the front, where she handed me off to a grim Officer Garrison. She took me to her cruiser and opened the back door for me. I slid in, hating the fact I would look like a criminal to anyone looking. I guess, in some ways, I was.
But I was trying to solve a murder, just like the police were. So what if I didn’t have the authority to do so? It was a free country. I should be allowed to talk to people, right?
I pouted all the way back to my car, which wasn’t exactly adult of me, but darn it, I was frustrated. Garrison didn’t say a word on the way there, nor as she opened the door to let me out.
“Thanks,” I told her, hoping she’d at least speak to me. We’d just started to get to know—and like—one another better recently, and it looked like we were right back to square one.
She grunted, shook her head, and got back into her car. She drove away without a word, let alone a good-bye wave.
So much for our budding friendship.
I looked toward Ted and Bettfast. The Bunfords were inside, likely telling all their employees to keep a lookout for me and report to them the moment they saw me. It hadn’t worked the first time, but I was betting no one would disobey them now. Upstairs, a curtain swished and I saw Lyric look out at me. I raised a hand and waved. Surprisingly, she returned the gesture before vanishing back into her room.
Maybe Chief Dalton was right and I was looking into the wrong person. Lyric might have wanted the necklace, but that didn’t mean she would kill someone for it. I was even starting to believe she wouldn’t even ask someone to do it for her.
But what exactly was her alibi? Did it exonerate someone else? Like, had she been with the mysterious man Justin had said she was going to meet today? If so, it would help me narrow down the suspects.
I got into my car and put any and all thoughts of talking to Lyric about her alibi—or the necklace—out of my mind. That path would only lead to trouble, and I’d had just about as much trouble as I could handle for one day.
20
Dad and Laura were watching a movie together when I got home, which seemed to be something they did quite often. I considered joining them, but honestly,
I wasn’t in the mood to sit and forget. And if I joined them, it would inevitably lead to conversation, and I didn’t really want to talk about my day. I couldn’t stand to see the disappointment on Dad’s face when he learned I’d spent a part of my day behind bars.
So, like a coward, I headed straight for the kitchen and started up some coffee. Dad glanced back at me, as did Laura, but neither of them rose. I could tell they were both curious, but they remained seated, which I appreciated.
My coffee finished percolating. I doctored it up, and then sat down at the island counter to drink it and think. I refused to let my brush with the law deter me from finding out who had killed Cathy, and saving Vicki’s wedding. I kind of felt like they were one in the same. I mean, how could Vicki get married knowing one of her guests might be a murderer?
“What’s on your mind, Buttercup?”
I looked up from my coffee, startled. Dad was sitting across from me, giving me a worried look. I wasn’t sure when he’d sat down, or if he’d been trying to talk to me for the last few minutes or what. Laura was no longer in the living room, and the TV was off. I had no idea that they’d moved, or how long ago.
“Nothing,” I lied. “It’s been a long day, is all.”
“Has it? Want to talk about it?”
Did I? When I’d first arrived home, I sure hadn’t. But now, I wasn’t so sure. Dad had a way of comforting me when I was at my worst, and could often guide me in the right direction, even without realizing he was doing it.
“I’m just worried about the wedding,” I said, which was the truth, if not the entire truth. “This whole thing has been stressful for everyone.”
Dad smiled and took my hand. “We’ll make it through it unscathed. You’ll see.”
“I hope so.”
“The police were here earlier,” he said, dropping his eyes. “They wanted to have a look around. I told them they could, since you have nothing to hide. I hope that was okay?”
“I heard,” I said. “I think Gina sicced them on me.”
“Would she really do that?”
I gave him a flat look.
“I guess she might,” he said. “You aren’t mad at me for letting them in, are you?”
“No,” I said. “I’m annoyed that it came to this, but glad it’s over with. Nothing was found, which means they have no reason to suspect me of anything. I’d count that as a win.”
“I still don’t like it. I should have called you and asked you what you wanted me to do.”
“You did good.”
My phone rang then, causing me to jump. I plucked it out of my purse and, noting Will’s name on the screen, I hurriedly answered, rising from my seat at the counter as I did.
“Will! I’m glad you called.”
“Krissy.” He paused. “Would it be okay if I stopped by?”
I was barely able to contain my excitement. Dad was one sort of comfort; Will was another entirely. “Of course! I’ll be here all night.” And, oh, how I could use some Will-and-me time.
“Okay.” Another pause. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”
“Great.”
He hung up.
Dad was watching me with a knowing grin on his face. “Hot date?” he asked, causing my face to flame.
“No.” Or at least I wasn’t going to tell him if it was or not. “Will’s coming over.” I stated it casually, as if we’d simply sit around and play Scrabble. I was hoping for a lot more than that.
“Laura and I were thinking of heading out for a walk anyway,” Dad said, rising. “I think we’ll do that. It’s a beautiful night.”
I almost told him not to be silly and stay, but then realized I’d feel much more comfortable if they weren’t here when Will arrived. It had been so long since I’d seen my boyfriend, I was practically giddy with excitement. I fully planned on planting a kiss on him the moment he stepped through the door, and that was something I didn’t want my dad to see.
“He’ll be here in thirty minutes,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as eager as I felt.
“Then we’ll stay out for a few hours.” He winked, and then laughed when I blushed so hard, I felt faint. “Let me get Laura and we’ll get out of your hair.” He turned and headed for the bedroom.
Thoroughly embarrassed, I waited for Dad to step into the hall and around the corner before I pumped an excited fist. After all I’d been through over the last few days, I could seriously use the stress relief of a Will visit.
Then I looked around the house, and some of my excitement fled.
I hit the cleaning with determination, picking up a stray bowl that held only an empty grape stem, and running the sweeper to clear away Misfit’s fur, which was coating the living room floor. Once that was done, I hurried into the bedroom to change—Dad and Laura had left while I was sweeping. I didn’t have time for a shower, but I did take a moment to wash my face. I’d just finished fixing my hair when there was a knock at the door.
I gave myself a quick once-over, scratched Misfit behind the ears before shutting him in the bedroom—I didn’t want him escaping out the door in case our hello lasted longer than was decent—and then rushed for the front door. I flung it open, and was about to fling myself into Will’s arms when I saw the look on his face.
“May I come in?” he asked, brow pinched, eyes worried. He looked like he’d just received some bad news and wasn’t looking forward to sharing it.
“Yeah, of course.” I stepped aside, wondering if something had happened to someone in his family. I hoped not; I liked every single one of them. Or at least, the ones I’d met.
Will entered and walked straight to the island counter. He didn’t sit, but instead turned to face me. “Are you okay?” he asked. “I’ve heard about everything that’s happened and, well, I’m concerned.”
“I’m okay,” I said. I refrained from adding, “Now that you’re here,” since it would not only be cheesy, but with the way he was looking at me, it didn’t seem appropriate. I was becoming decidedly nervous, but was afraid to ask him about it outright.
“Good, good.” He looked down at his feet and fell silent.
I studied him, his creamer-rich coffee skin, the dark eyes, and felt my heart do a double beat. He had all the looks a woman could want, the money—if you’re into that sort of thing—and the charisma.
And yet, he was almost never there when I needed him anymore. Sure, he was here now, but I really could have used his shoulder to lean upon when I’d found Cathy. I’d talked to him on the phone, of course, but that wasn’t the same as a face-to-face meeting where I could touch his hand, feel his warmth.
I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Is everything okay?” I asked. As far as I knew, he had a disaster of his own that he’d been dealing with and I’d been the one who hadn’t been around to make him feel better. With Vicki’s wedding and getting Death by Coffee ready for the reception, I had been pretty lost in my own world as of late. And then, with the murder, it was a wonder I wasn’t pulling my hair out.
“I’m good,” he said, flashing me the briefest of smiles. “I had a strange day at work the other day. Some guy from out of town came in complaining of stomach pains. He wouldn’t fill out any forms, just asked if someone could check him out. I think he was here for the wedding.”
“What was his name?”
“Jack or something like that. I can’t remember his last name. Carl looked him over and gave him something to calm his stomach. I didn’t see him for much more than a few seconds.”
“Could it be Jacques Kenway?”
“Yeah, I think that’s it.”
Hmm, interesting. “What was wrong with him?”
Will shrugged. “Ulcer, I think. I’d claim doctor–patient confidentiality, but he wasn’t actually a patient. It was weird.” He frowned down at his hands. “It was like he was trying to hide something. Either that, or he didn’t want anyone to know he was sick. It made me wonder if he used other doctors like this for drugs. It didn’t feel on the up-and-
up, though honestly, he could just be on the odd side.”
It wasn’t surprising an actor had an ulcer, especially considering everything that had happened recently. Still, like Will, it made me wonder if there was more to it. Jacques’s name had been coming up an awful lot lately, and not in a good way.
But I pushed all thoughts of that aside. There was something more Will wasn’t telling me, and I could tell by the way he refused to look at me, I wasn’t going to want to hear it.
“Coffee?” I asked, wanting to push that moment down the line as far as I could.
“Sure.”
I entered the kitchen and put on a half pot. I motioned for Will to take a seat at the island counter and went about gathering the creamer and sugar. I set them down, avoiding Will’s eye, and then poured us each a cup before finally taking a seat across from him.
“Okay, lay it on me,” I said.
Will looked pained, but didn’t try to deny there was something more to say. He added sugar to his coffee, then a tiny touch of creamer, before speaking.
“I’ve been offered a job,” he said, stirring his coffee. “A good job.”
“That’s great!” Yet, why didn’t it feel great? It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach.
He nodded, smiled sadly. “It’s in Arizona.”
My heart hiccupped and then steadied. “Arizona?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I applied for the position a year ago, thinking I’d never get it. They filled it briefly, but the guy they hired got sick and is going to retire. They called a few months back, telling me it was mine if I wanted it. I’ve had time to think about it since they were waiting to make sure the other guy didn’t change his mind, but I’ll have to let them know soon.”
“Are you going to take it?” I asked, knowing the answer already.
“I want to,” Will said, finally meeting my eye. There was a whole lot of concern there. And pain. “But, well . . .”
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