by Paty Jager
Doring dug in his feet when they hit the end of the hallway, but eventually, just hung his head and walked as Ryan propelled him toward Mrs. Norton.
When Shandra had called the man Mr. Doring, Ryan couldn’t believe his good fortune. The man was on his list to speak to about the murder victim. Now he had Doring in custody and could speak to him after he finished here. He caught a glimpse of the nervous woman Ms. Higheagle requested sit with her. He kept his face a blank canvas but inside he was smiling. One more person from his list he planned to investigate. And she would be present while he took Shandra’s statement. He mentally patted himself on the back for coming to this event.
He’d gone back and forth over the pros and cons of investigating in the midst of such an event and decided it was the perfect way to see how his suspects interacted and to see Shandra Higheagle again.
His first impression of Naomi Norton said she was high-strung. He walked up and cleared his throat. She jumped and spun his way, her eyes wide and scared. He’d met a lot of killers, and he didn’t think this woman had the strength in her skinny arms to plunge a blunt object through a rib cage. But when adrenaline was gushing and emotions were high, anyone was capable of anything.
“Mrs. Norton?”
“Y-yes?”
“Your friend, Shandra, would like you to sit with her in one of the rooms down the hall.” He looked back toward the hall. Shandra stood in the shadows of the hallway.
“What happened?” Her gaze shot to Doring.
“Doring assaulted her.”
“Why?” The one word came out in a croak.
Before he could answer, the woman was weaving her way through the crowd to her friend.
A commotion at the entrance drew his attention. Blane rushed into the event as if Ryan’d called in a bomb threat. The young man really needed to learn tact.
Ryan moved across the room toward the officer. When they met, Blane whistled.
“You know who you have here?” he asked.
“Yes. Take him to the station, write him up on assault charges, and hold him until I can ask him some questions. I’ll stay here and get the victim’s statement.”
“You might want to come with me to the car.” Blane leaned close and lowered his voice. “Right as you called I found more pictures and things in the dumpster behind the donut shop.”
Could this be the missing file? Ryan pushed Doring toward the entrance. He was getting more breaks this evening than he’d expected.
~*~
Shandra hugged Naomi when she arrived. She’d never been hit by a man. It scared her more than she wanted to admit to the detective and herself.
“What happened?” Naomi asked, pulling out of the embrace and touching Shandra’s cheek.
“I planned to ask Sidney questions about his wife, but he got too friendly. I spat out an accusation and he slapped me hard.” Tears burned behind her eyes. She blinked to keep them from spilling. Humiliation mixed with the fright and the anger.
“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be playing detective, you could get yourself hurt worse.” Naomi led her down the hallway to a couple of chairs. “Do you want me to get some ice?”
“Detective Greer is bringing some.” She peered over Naomi’s shoulder but couldn’t see the detective. She returned her gaze to her friend. “You need to stop fidgeting. You look nervous which makes you look guilty of something.”
“I know. I’m trying, but all I can think about is talking to Juan to see if he’s said anything about giving me a key to the gallery.”
Shandra’s heart raced. “No! Don’t approach him and don’t bring it up. He may have forgotten he even gave you one.”
“It wasn’t that long ago. He’s bound to remember.” Naomi lowered her face into her hands. “I can’t do this. I should just tell the detective everything.”
“I think that would be a good idea.”
Shandra’s neck popped as she jerked her head to look up at the voice. Damn! Poor timing. Detective Greer stood over them holding a clear plastic baggie of ice. He handed it to her and knelt next to Naomi.
“Mrs. Norton, now would be a good time to tell me what you want to get off your conscience.” His soothing voice didn’t fool Shandra.
“Naomi, you haven’t done anything wrong. There isn’t any reason—”
Detective Greer shot her a glare. “Mrs. Norton are you the one who tossed a file about your sister into the dumpster behind the donut shop?”
Shandra couldn’t stop her friend’s reaction. Naomi shot to her feet as if to run, then dropped into the chair and cried into her hands.
“Are you happy?” Shandra spat at the detective. “It’s taken her months to get over her sister’s death, and you bring it up with about as much tact as a rhino in rut.” Shandra put an arm around her friend. “I don’t want you asking her any more questions until you get her husband over here.” She leveled an unwavering glare on the detective.
He sighed and rose to his feet. “If you try to sneak her out of here while I get the husband, I’ll find you both and haul you in for obstruction of justice.”
She continued to glare at him.
“Am I clear?”
“Yes.” Shandra wanted to keep glaring at him, but as he walked away she had to admit, he could have pressed Naomi for information. He didn’t have to bring in more reinforcements for the woman he wanted to interrogate.
“I have to tell him. It’s making me sick holding it in,” Naomi said between sobs.
“I know. I hope this detective has enough sense to know you didn’t do it.” Shandra glanced up and watched Detective Greer and Ted walk down the hall toward them. The detective had a determined jut to his chin. Ted’s face was slack with worry.
She stood, allowing Ted to take the chair next to his wife. Shandra tugged on Detective Greer’s sleeve, drawing him a short distance from the two.
He peered down at her, waiting.
Clearing the lump that all of a sudden appeared in her throat, she opened her mouth to speak.
His eyes narrowed, and she snapped her jaw shut. What if he didn’t believe her?
“Do you have something to tell me about yesterday afternoon, Ms. Higheagle?”
She’d take the offensive. “I didn’t lie to you yesterday. I just withheld a detail until I’d asked Naomi a question.”
“And that detail was…?”
She glanced at her friend. She’d stopped crying. Her red swollen eyes peered at her and she nodded.
Releasing her angst on a whoosh of air, she looked into the detective’s dark brown eyes. “When I parked in front of the Doring Gallery yesterday I saw Naomi crossing the side street.”
Her relief at telling the truth was short lived when he pulled a small notepad out of his jacket pocket.
“She’s not a suspect. She wouldn’t kill anyone.”
Those dark brown eyes narrowed, and an eyebrow rose as he scribbled on the pad. “I’ll be the judge of who is a suspect.” He glanced up. “I’m impartial.”
“What does that mean?” Shandra crossed her arms. It wasn’t until the detective’s gaze drifted downward that she realized her actions had exposed more of her girls than she usually did in public. She grabbed the string, drawing it up and tying a large bow. The neckline resided where a modest woman would wear it.
His gaze returned to her face. “It means, I’m not friends with Mrs. Norton, giving me an impartial perspective.”
“Detective, my wife is ready to tell you everything.” Ted held Naomi’s hand and waved them over with his free hand.
Shandra started toward the couple. A hand on her arm stopped her. She peered up into the detective’s eyes and saw a hint of empathy.
“Don’t interrupt. Let her tell her story. Then I’ll ask you both questions.” His deep voice was only loud enough for the two of them to hear. If it had been under different circumstances she would have found it seductive.
When she didn’t answer and continued to stare into his eyes, he smiled. Oo
o. She had to stop getting sucked into his gaze. He wasn’t here to help Naomi.
“Are you going to interrupt?” His tone proved he saw rebellion in her eyes.
“No.”
“Go—”
“As long as you don’t interrogate her like a criminal.” Shandra shook off his hand, still resting on her arm and stood beside her friend.
Chapter Ten
Ryan couldn’t believe the audacity of the Higheagle woman. She was telling him how to do an interrogation. He didn’t plan to make the Norton woman cry, but if she started tearing up while telling her side of things there was nothing he could do about it. He ran a hand over the muscles bunching in the back of his neck and directed his attention to the woman with red-rimmed eyes, clutching her husband’s hand like a lifeline.
“Mrs. Norton, we found photos in a dumpster behind the donut shop. The woman in the photos was identified as your sister. Did you have anything to do with tossing those photos in the dumpster?” Movement to the woman’s right, told him Ms. Higheagle wasn’t happy with his direct questioning. But this was his investigation not hers. He’d never let another person influence his train of thought, but his mind wandered to the glimpse he’d received of the woman’s attributes when she’d tried to get huffy with him. He started to smile before dragging his mind back to the suspect he was questioning.
“Mrs. Norton. I’m being kind by questioning you with your husband and friend present. I could take you to the police station and ask you these questions in a room with just the two of us.”
Her head shook and her eyes widened. “No, please. I don’t want to do this alone.”
“Then answer my question.”
Her husband nudged her. “Go on Naomi, tell him about the file.”
Her blue eyes filled with tears as she began to speak in a shaky voice. “I’ve had a suspicion there was more to Joyce’s death than an overdose. She was off drugs and proud of it. I thought it was suspicious that Paula held such a dislike for my sister. They’d never met until Joyce applied for the assistant’s job.” She drew in a breath. “Paula made a comment at one of the art events that I’d be surprised what all she knew about my sister.” Her voice grew stronger. “That made me curious about what she could have.” She drew in another breath, looked at her husband, and started in. “I knew Paula took her lunch from one to two every day and there was usually no one in the gallery. I paid her assistant Juan to make me a copy of her back door key.”
Ryan peered at the woman. “How did you know he wouldn’t tell Paula?”
She blushed and her eyelids lowered. “I threatened to turn him into INS. We were investigated a couple years ago for hiring an immigrant. I looked Juan up when he got the job over Joyce and learned he is an illegal.” She turned to her husband who stared at her in disbelief. “I know you told me to let things go, but I can’t believe Joyce killed herself with drugs. I just can’t.”
Ryan jotted down the information about Juan. “You used the key the day Mrs. Doring was killed?”
“Yes. I waited for her to leave, then I went in the back door and looked through the drawers in her desk. That’s when I found the file.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered. “The photos were awful! I can’t believe Joyce would have exposed herself like that without being out of her mind on drugs. It was her worthless boyfriend who talked her into taking them.”
The last declaration was the first glimpse he’d had of any fire or anger in the woman. He could envision it building and escalating as she looked at the photos he’d skimmed through at Blane’s cruiser a few minutes earlier. They were not photos you would want any of your family to see.
“It made you angry to see those photos and know that Paula held on to them.” The color deepened in her cheeks.
“Yes.” Ryan said, “Why was she holding them? There wasn’t any reason I could think of.”
Mrs. Norton glared at him. “I took them, because knowing Paula, she’d probably pull them out and have a good laugh knowing my sister had stooped that low.”
Other thoughts were twisting around in Ryan’s head. What if the photos were behind the large sums of money added to Paula’s books every month? He sized up the Nortons. Did they make enough to pay that amount every month? It would be reason to steal the photos. He made a note to check their financials.
“Did Paula return before you left?”
A cough to his right, drew his gaze to Ms. Higheagle who shook her head and glared. He returned the glare and directed his attention back at Mrs. Norton.
“Did you confront her?”
Naomi’s face turned white. “No! I heard the buzz at the front door and grabbed the folder. I headed to the back of the gallery and out the back door. I ran down the alley and tossed the file into the dumpster behind the donut shop. When I looked up, the back door of the gallery was closing. I know it closed behind me, so someone else must have entered. I bought donuts and returned to our gallery through the alley. That was when Shandra saw me.”
He turned his attention to Ms. Higheagle. “Did you see anyone besides Mrs. Norton?”
“No, but my caretaker, Lil, said she saw Paula and a man with white hair arguing behind the Quik Mart the day before Paula was killed.” Ms. Higheagle’s lips were drawn up into a satisfied smile. Her eyes seemed to taunt him with “I can discover clues, too.”
“Did this Lil get a good enough look to pick him out if we come up with a line up?”
“I’ll ask her. If she can describe him, I’ll make a drawing.”
He stared at her. “I thought you made things from clay.”
A smirk tipped her lips. “I do the etchings on my vases and draw up ideas. In art school I dabbled in portraits.”
This woman not only had a keen intelligence, she was multi-talented. The more he knew about her the more intrigued he became.
He pulled his mind away from where his thoughts were headed and peered at Mrs. Norton. “What can you tell me about the boyfriend that got your sister hooked on drugs?”
“Joyce met Dale Young five years ago. He claimed to be a painter, but later we discovered the only money that passed through his hands came from drugs.” Mrs. Norton glanced at her husband. He nodded and she drew in a breath as Ryan jotted down the boyfriend’s name.
“When Joyce stopped returning my calls after living with Dale for a year, I went to Seattle to see if she was okay. Dale refused to let me see Joyce and threatened me if I ever came around there again.” The woman’s hands shook. “That’s when I urged Ted to let me have a private investigator see what was going on. He reported that Joyce was stoned most of the time and seemed to be happy with that life.” She shook her head. “When Dale was arrested and she had the chance, Joyce called me and begged me to help her get off the drugs. I went with her to check into rehab. Then she came and lived with us while she was getting her life back together.”
Ryan slid a glance toward Ms. Higheagle. The compassion on her face toward her friend was admirable. But that didn’t get him any answers.
“Who was the private investigator you used?”
“Terrance Baylor. He’s in Seattle. Why do you need to contact him?” Mr. Norton asked.
“I just want to rule out Joyce’s death having anything to do with this investigation.” Ryan scanned his notes then studied the trio. “Has there always been bad feelings between you and Paula Doring?”
Ms. Higheagle huffed her indignation and pursed her lips.
Norton glared at him “Why are you asking?”
“I’m trying to figure out why Joyce applied for a job with Paula if there has always been this animosity between the two galleries.”
The husband and wife stared at one another. It was clear neither one of them had thought much about why Joyce applied.
“Surely, there were other jobs here that she could have applied for.”
Mrs. Norton’s brow furrowed. “I remember she came home from applying for jobs and said someone had mentioned there was an opening at Doring Gal
lery, would I mind if she applied. I knew she was hoping for something more than a waitress job, so I told her to go ahead.” The woman’s face scrunched up and tears sprouted anew. “Oh God! Did I get her killed?”
Ms. Higheagle dropped to her knees beside her friend and hugged her. “No, you did not kill your sister.” Her golden eyes glared at him. “I think it’s time you moved on and harassed someone else for a while.”
Didn’t Ms. Higheagle understand her friend confessed to being in the gallery at the time of the murder? She was his strongest lead. Yet, in his gut he didn’t think the woman sobbing in Ms. Higheagle’s arms had the wherewithal or the strength to stab with a blunt object.
“That’s all for now, but I’ll be around to your gallery tomorrow with more questions.”
“We’ll be there. This is one of our biggest selling weekends.” Norton drew his wife to her feet. “Shandra, would you get Naomi cleaned up. They’ll be giving away the silent auction items soon.”
Chapter Eleven
Shandra gave Detective Greer one more glare and then helped her friend down the hall to the closest restroom. As much as she wanted to be angry with the detective for questioning Naomi, his questions had her mind going in a million different directions about whether the overdose a year ago and Paula’s murder were connected.
She helped Naomi freshen up with a cold water compress of wet paper towels on her red swollen eyes and reapplied the little makeup Naomi wore. Back out in the lobby with the attendees, she noticed Detective Greer questioning Juan Lida. The other person she hoped to question herself. She touched her bruised cheek. Hopefully this conversation wouldn’t go as poorly as the one she had with Sidney Doring.
The crowd began to gather around the microphone where the master of ceremonies encouraged people to place their final silent auction bids. “Only five minutes left before we pull the sign-up sheets.”
The detective moved away from Juan. Using this chaotic time to her advantage, Shandra sidled up beside Paula’s assistant.
“Hi Juan. Did you put anything in the auction?” she asked, watching as his angry gaze on the detective drift to her. A tired smile didn’t quite light his eyes.