by Kay Finch
The other men congregated on the sidelines and watched with interest. Except for one Hispanic guy who seemed more interested in watching me. He caught my eye, winked, and headed toward me. I should have left when the sheriff told me to, but I couldn’t bring myself to drive away before the scene unfolded.
“You look mighty lonely,” the guy said, coming up beside me. He was tall, over six feet, and had his dark hair fastened in a tight bun at the nape of his neck.
“I’m tense,” I said. “Not looking for company.”
“Yeah. Boss is freaked. Might have a coronary, but hey, if he does we might all get the rest of the day off.”
That didn’t deserve a response.
His gaze took me in from head to toe, lazily, as if he had all the time in the world to make my acquaintance. “I’m Cody. What’s your name?”
“Back off, Flores.” I hadn’t seen Tyanne’s husband approach us, but I recognized his voice behind me.
“Hey, I’m passin’ down time talkin’ to the pretty lady,” Flores said.
“She’s not interested,” Bryan said.
Flores held his hands up and backed away. “Fine.”
When he was out of earshot, Bryan said, “Thought I’d nip that in the bud for you. He doesn’t give up easy.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“What’s goin’ on over there with the sheriff?”
“Nothing, I hope.”
“I heard the concrete’s being sent to another customer,” he said. “That doesn’t happen for no reason.”
“I’m glad someone else needed it.” I turned to look at him. “You haven’t by chance seen Jane Alcott today, have you?”
“Not yet,” he said. “Be a miracle if she goes one day without getting on our backs about something though.”
“You should lay off the criticism, Bryan. It’s not a good idea.”
“You sound like my wife.”
“But for a different reason,” I said. “Tyanne wants you to be polite, teach the kids good manners by example.”
“I get it,” he said. “I don’t spout off in front of the kids. Much.”
“Well, you should hold it down here, too,” I said.
“Why?” He frowned.
“Nobody knows where Jane is,” I said, “and I fear the worst.”
“The worst. What’re you saying?” He wore a totally clueless expression.
I glanced toward the sheriff, who was on his phone. The burly man had some of the construction workers in a huddle. A second sheriff’s department car arrived, driven by Patricia Rosales.
My cue to leave.
As I turned to open my car door, a black Mercedes sedan pulled in behind me.
Three women got out of the car in a cloud of obnoxiously strong perfume. One of them, the mayor’s wife, Doreen Krenek, wore a royal blue skirt and matching jacket more suited for visiting an office building than a construction site. Her blonde hair was worn in an old-fashioned curly updo and sprayed to death.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Krenek said to the others. “We were promised the gazebo by this coming Saturday, and I’ll make it clear to the contractor and the sheriff that nothing will stand in our way.”
The other two women made noises of agreement.
Bryan slipped away so fast I could have sworn he disappeared into thin air.
I turned my back on the women, but I’d already been spotted. “Aren’t you Rowe Flowers’s niece?” Ms. Krenek said. “That writer with the cat?”
I moved in hopes of blocking their view of the car window and Hitchcock. They didn’t need to know he’d been here at the library site.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m a writer.”
“Jane was going to meet with you last night,” she said. “Do you know where she is?”
My stomach clenched. “No, ma’am. I’m afraid not.”
“We were supposed to meet with her this morning,” the second woman said. “She stood us up. That’s not like her.”
I was almost glad to see Deputy Rosales walking toward us, to keep me from having to comment further about Jane’s whereabouts. My relief was short-lived.
“Looks like the bad luck cat strikes again,” Rosales said with a smirk. “Sheriff’s asking for crime scene tape. We got a body.”
Chapter 7
By the time I pulled into my parking spot at the Monte Carlo cottage it was nearly past dinnertime. I realized I’d missed lunch and couldn’t even remember eating breakfast. I didn’t want to think about food though. Didn’t want to talk to anyone. Didn’t want to even consider what had happened to Jane Alcott. Or why.
I wanted to hole up in my cottage and block out the rest of the world. If I had a switch to control my whirling brain, I would flip it off for the night. Too bad that wasn’t possible. I looked at Hitchcock, poised for flight on the passenger seat.
“Guess you’re long past ready to eat.”
“Mrreow,” he said.
I had to smile. “Okay. Let’s go.”
We got out of the car, and Hitchcock raced to the cottage door. Inside, I poured food into his bowl and refreshed his water. I plugged my phone into the charger and fought an urge to review the row of texts from Jane. That would only bring tears. I paced around the living room as Hitchcock crunched on his dinner.
Someone had strangled that poor woman. Sheriff Crawford had shared that much before bombarding me with a hundred questions I couldn’t answer. Maybe if I had responded to Jane’s messages—even one of them—a little cog on the wheel of her day would have changed. She might have taken a different course. Turned away from a killer instead of colliding with one. Because that’s what must have happened. She clearly didn’t plan to run into danger. We were going to take pictures. Everything would have been fine. She’d still be alive.
Don’t go there, Sabrina.
I swiped at tears and took a deep breath. This was exactly what I did not want to do. Eating might take my mind off of the tragedy for a few minutes. Except when I opened my refrigerator I found nothing but a hunk of old cheese and some questionable deli meat.
Okay. Fine. I’d have to leave my place and raid Aunt Rowe’s kitchen. I walked up to the house and met Glenda as she pulled on a light jacket on her way out the back door.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” she said. “Everybody’s out back. I set up a buffet for Rowe’s Crop Shop people. Grab a bite and keep an eye on things in general if you don’t mind. Those women have had a bit too much to drink you ask me, but maybe they’ll settle down after they get some food in their stomachs.”
I remembered the group’s plan to tour local wineries and wished I’d gone with them instead of to the construction site. “What about Aunt Rowe?”
“She’s out there,” Glenda said. “Thomas, too. He’s setting up the propane heaters in case it gets too chilly with the sun down. I’ll be back.”
She was off before I could ask where she was going.
I looked out the window over the sink. The long folding table Glenda often used held three stainless steel chafing dishes, a basket of rolls, and a fruit tray. Thomas was fiddling with a tall torch heater. Aunt Rowe sat in the corner deep in conversation with a blonde woman, each with a wineglass in hand. An open bottle sat in an ice bucket on a side table near them. Other women milled around, chatting and laughing. I guessed the bad news about the body found on the construction site hadn’t reached these people yet.
I wasn’t in the mood to do a meet-and-greet with the guests, but the scent of food drew me. I was guessing ham—Glenda’s special recipe with the marmalade glaze. A quick glance at the cleared cooktop and empty oven told me all the food was outside. I’d have to go out there if I wanted some. I reconciled myself to the fact and stepped out to the deck.
Aunt Rowe’s collection of classic country music was turned on low and came from small speakers mounted under the house eaves. Thomas glanced up at me and nodded hello as I approached the table and picked up a plate.
“Sabrina.” Aunt R
owe waved and motioned me to come closer. “You’re just the person I need to answer a question.”
I walked over to her. “Glad to see you all survived the winery tour.”
“Of course we survived,” Aunt Rowe said. “We’re a resilient bunch. Right, Suellen?”
She looked at the other woman, who had a definite buzz going along with a flushed complexion and bloodshot eyes. Suellen raised her wineglass. “Right on, Rowe. I’m gettin’ a late start, but this stuff tastes great.”
“You were the designated driver,” I said.
“That’s me.” Suellen giggled. “But I’m catchin’ up with the others right quick.”
I looked around the deck and didn’t see any sign of the group’s scrapbooking paraphernalia. “Aren’t y’all gonna work on your scrapbooks tonight?”
Suellen waved a hand. “Oh, we can do that any ol’ time. Marge isn’t here to crack the whip, and I won’t tell her we’re slacking off.” She giggled again.
I looked at Aunt Rowe and raised my brows.
“Marge has a strict teacher mentality,” Aunt Rowe said. “But she couldn’t make it tonight.”
“Too bad, so sad.” Suellen guzzled her wine.
Aunt Rowe lifted her glass, and I thought her arm looked a little shaky. “We brought a case of wine home, Sabrina. You should have some.”
“Maybe after I eat,” I said. “You had a question?”
“Oh, right.” Aunt Rowe looked up at me and took a second to remember what she wanted to say. “Does the Wild Pony Saloon have a mechanical bull?”
The question gave me a jolt. “I don’t know, and I hate to ask why you’re even bringing up such a thing.”
“Everybody gets a chance at something on their bucket list,” Aunt Rowe said, “and Suellen here wants to ride a mechanical bull.”
I looked from one woman to the other and shook my head. “That’s a really bad idea given all the wine you’ve had, not to mention that your designated driver isn’t in any shape—”
“Not tonight, silly,” Aunt Rowe interrupted. “We have the rest of the week to work on the lists.”
I took in a breath, let it out. “Then we can make a call tomorrow and ask the saloon owner. They have pool tables, but that’s all I know.”
My aunt straightened and looked at me more closely. “What’s wrong, honey?”
I forced a smile. “I haven’t eaten. Hunger makes me a little testy, that’s all.”
“Then for crying out loud, get yourself some food. We have enough for a small army.”
I went back to the table to fill my plate, and Thomas joined me to do the same. I took some of the ham and handed the tongs to Thomas.
“Rough day?” he said.
I looked at him and wondered what had brought on the question.
“My cousin works construction,” he explained. “He was there.”
“There when it happened?” I said too loudly, then lowered my voice.
“No.” Thomas shook his head. “There when they found her. He saw you.”
“Oh.” I moved to the next tray and took a scoop each of red-skinned potatoes and fried okra. “I hope your cousin’s not Cody Flores.” The flirt.
“No. Hector Cortez.”
“Okay. Good.”
“You think it was an accident?” Thomas said in a low voice.
I felt a wave of irritation. “She didn’t accidentally strangle herself and fall into a hole.”
Thomas glanced around to see if my testy words had attracted attention. “That’s not what I meant.”
I popped a piece of meat into my mouth and nodded at the deck stairs. “Let’s go down there.”
We took the stairs to the yard. I was about to head for the chairs around a firepit when I noticed a couple standing under a nearby tree. The woman wore a denim skirt and a deep scoop-necked top. She twirled a strand of red hair around her finger as she leaned close to the tall, dark man with her.
I squinted. It was the bearded man from the Barcelona cottage.
Thomas noticed me watching. “What is it?”
I frowned. “That guy bugs me.”
“Why?”
“No reason. I don’t know, he just does. Who’s the woman?”
“I think her name’s Ashley,” Thomas said. “She’s with the group.”
I watched the couple as we ate. They might know each other, but I was betting the wine had led Ashley to approach the man. Maybe picking up a stranger was on her bucket list. I didn’t want to witness whatever came next.
Thomas cleared his throat. “When I said accident, I meant someone could have killed her by accident, not intending to. Something happened, then panic set in.”
I turned to face him. “Do you know something you’re not telling me?”
“No, ma’am, and that’s the God’s honest truth. Guess I watch too many movies. Seen that kind of thing a lot.”
Thomas wasn’t a liar, and I knew exactly what he meant. My imagination went off on a fictional tangent all the time.
“I’m trying to put the whole thing out of my mind for now and let the sheriff handle things,” I said.
“That’s for the best,” he agreed. “Too bad your cat found the body.”
Of course his cousin had shared that little fact. At least I hoped he’d heard it from his cousin and that the whole town wasn’t already talking about Hitchcock.
Again.
I glared at him. “There’s no need for anyone to mention Hitchcock in connection with what happened to that woman. Not today, not tomorrow. Never.”
“I get it,” Thomas said. “Sorry.”
“Okay, don’t bring that up again. Please.”
“I won’t.”
I emptied my plate and the food sat like a lump in my stomach. “I’m going home. Can you keep an eye on things? Glenda asked me to, but I’m not feeling up to the task.”
“Sure, not a problem.”
I must have looked pretty worn down because Thomas offered to throw my plate away for me. I wouldn’t have to face any of the partiers, or Aunt Rowe, or a glass of wine, though the wine might have taken the edge off.
Heading for my cottage I noticed the man and woman we spotted earlier were no longer under the tree. I wondered absently if they had left together.
None of your business, Sabrina.
At least I didn’t feel like I was going to faint from starvation anymore. What I needed most now was a good night’s sleep. It would be a challenge to get back to working on my book anytime soon given what this day had brought.
I was almost home when the roar of an engine captured my attention, and I looked up to see headlights racing toward my cottage.
A silver SUV. Tyanne’s car.
She must have seen me because the vehicle jerked to a stop. My friend jumped out, leaving the door open and the engine running. She sprinted over to me.
“Don’t you ever answer your phone?” she shouted. “I’ve been calling and calling.”
I’d never seen her this distraught. I looked at her car. She was alone. “Calm down. What is it? The kids?”
“The kids are fine.”
“Then what, Ty?” I put my hand on her arm. “Take a breath. You look like you’re going to pass out. Bryan? I just saw him.”
“You had me freaked out,” Tyanne said. “That’s what happened with Jane. I called and called and she wouldn’t answer, and then she’s found, and she’s dead, and I couldn’t help worrying that something horrible had happened to you.” She choked on a sob.
I wrapped my arms around her and patted her back. “I’m okay. Nothing happened. I’m perfectly fine. Except that I feel so awful about Jane. I want to go back in time and fix things, but we can’t do that.”
“No, no, we can’t.” Tyanne blubbered into my shoulder.
“The sheriff will find out what happened,” I said.
She pulled away and looked at me with mascara-streaked eyes. “That’s the problem. The sheriff thinks Bryan killed Jane. He’s over there be
ing questioned as we speak.”
Her words hit me like a slap. “What? That’s crazy.”
“You’re telling me,” Ty said, “but she was strangled with a piece of electrical wire.”
“So what? There’s all kinds of scrap lying around the construction site. Someone used whatever was handy.”
Ty blinked rapidly and swiped her wet cheeks with her hands. “That’s what I said, but they say it matches.”
“Matches what?” I said.
“The roll of wire in Bryan’s truck. They claim the piece was cut from his roll.”
“They can’t know that for sure. Not until forensics people say so, and that sort of investigation takes forever.”
“I know, but they said it’s a visual match, so they’re sending the whole roll off to I don’t know where. Wherever they send evidence. Evidence, Sabrina, they think they have evidence to prove my husband committed murder.”
Chapter 8
I urged Tyanne to come along to my place and tell me everything. Seeing her in such a panic broke my heart. I couldn’t imagine she had reason to jump to the worst conclusion. We made it as far as the cottage’s front porch, where she sank to a step and cradled her head in her hands.
“This is a nightmare, Sabrina,” she moaned. “A true nightmare.”
I sat beside her. “C’mon. Where’s the levelheaded, logical Ty I know and love?”
She didn’t respond, only turned her head to peer at me. In the glow of my porch light she looked ghostly pale and bedraggled. I heard the cat door open, and within seconds Hitchcock was at Tyanne’s side and rubbing against her elbow.
“Oh, sweet boy.” Tyanne roused herself to stroke his head. “Bless your little heart for trying to make me feel better.”
Trying, but not succeeding.
The cat began to purr. Ty needed all the soothing we could give her, and I wondered if she could stay long enough for us to get the job done. “Where are your kids tonight?”
“I called the neighbor—that nice Mrs. Hammerly—to sit with them. They were at a ball game after school, thank goodness, so they don’t know anything about this.”