by Tegan Maher
We hurried through the rest of our meal. It didn't happen often, but I was too distracted to focus much on eating, and by the time we paid the bill, I was about to climb out of my skin in anticipation. The classes lasted for another hour, but I had every intention of being there when they let out.
If this was our chance to save Coralee, I wasn't letting it slip through our fingers.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
I LOOKED FOR A VW BUG when we pulled into the hotel lot, but didn't see one. My heart raced a little—what if we'd already missed her?
"So what's the plan?" I asked.
"We're gonna have to play it by ear," he replied. Hopefully, she'll be in her hotel room already, and we'll get a chance to take at least a surface look while we're talking to her. If we see something visible, that gives me probable cause."
"What if she's not in her room?"
"Then I'm not sure. I'll question her. Maybe just flat-out offer our theory on how it went down to gauge her reaction. If we put enough pressure on her, she may crack. If she's guilty," he added, giving me a pointed look.
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Don't get my hopes up." Too late, but I didn't tell him that. I didn't have to; he knew me too well.
The conference room was empty when we went in. Rachael was behind the desk again, and greeted us with a smile. "Hey Sheriff. Noelle. You all back to ask more questions?"
I nodded and was going to shoot straight past the desk and up the stairs, but Hunter put his hand on my arm to stop me.
"We are, Rachael. Where's everybody at? I thought the conference didn't end for another hour."
"Oh, it wasn't supposed to," she said, "but they finished up early. The last two classes were small, so I guess it didn't take as long as they thought it would."
"Has everybody already checked out?" I asked, hoping beyond hope the answer was no.
She shook her head. "No. They just finished up a few minutes ago, then went back upstairs. Or at least most of them did. A couple of them checked out before the meetings this morning, so they left right away."
"Was Leighann Cooly one of them?" I asked.
Her expression was blank. "I'm not sure. I don't know them by names. Do you know her room number though? That's how I keep track of people in my head."
I shook my head. "No clue. Can't you check the computer?" I nodded toward the monitor perched on the desk in front of a keyboard.
"I'm not really supposed to," she said, eyeballing Hunter, but since it's police business, I guess I can make an exception." She tapped in a few keystrokes, then squinted at the screen. "No. She hasn't checked out yet. Room 321."
"Thanks, Rachael!" I called, already halfway to the elevator.
Hunter picked up his pace to keep up with me, and grabbed my hand once we were in the elevator. "You have to chill out and let me handle this, okay? She has rights, and there are rules. If you break them, it doesn't matter what you get from her, it could be inadmissible, got it?"
I took a deep breath. He was right. "Got it."
"Plus," he said, bending over to look me in the eye, "you have to remember—she may be innocent. The story sounds plausible, but so does Coralee's, and we know she didn't do it. You can't want this so bad that you get tunnel vision. If it wasn't her, it wasn't her."
The elevator doors slid open and I squared my shoulders, doing my best to slow my heart rate and present a calm demeanor. By the time we made it to her door, I'd collected myself and was able to smile when she answered.
"Hi, Sheriff. Detective Flynn," she said. I didn't bother to correct her, and neither did Hunter. "What can I do for you?"
"We just have a few more questions," Hunter said. "It's come to our attention that you were at the diner with Ms. Merryweather the day after the murder, and your behavior seemed ... erratic. Can you explain that?"
She broke eye contact and looked down. "I already told you I didn't kill Loretta," she said. "Do you have any further questions that are relevant?"
"I believe this is relevant," he said. I couldn't help but notice he'd drawn himself up to full height so that he towered over her. Usually I wasn't okay with such tactics, but I knew they were part of the training. A tactical advantage so to speak.
"If you must know, I was upset about my mom. She took a slight turn for the worse and I was debating going home. In fact, I was debating giving up real estate altogether and looking for a job at a salon. Delilah talked me off the ledge and convinced me to stick with it."
"Would you have a problem letting us look in your room, and in your trunk?" Hunter asked.
I thought for a minute she was going to say no. After all, she had that right, and there wasn't anything we could do if she refused. But she didn't. Instead, she stepped back into the room and pulled the door wide open.
"Go right ahead, but you're wasting your time. Loretta wasn't even in here, let alone murdered here. Same thing with my car. We can go down when you've looked your fill here."
We stepped in and examined the room. Her suitcase was on the bed, closed but not zipped. She'd piled the dirty towels together in the bathroom floor, and stripped the sheets off the one bed. There was a ten-dollar bill on the dresser. I glanced at her, brow raised.
She smiled. "My sister works as a maid in Atlanta. I know what all she has to do, so whenever I go anywhere, I try to make it as easy for them as possible. And I always tip. She makes crap wages, and toward the end of the pay period, tips are what pay for her milk and bread."
Damn. Now I didn't want her to be guilty.
We looked around, but didn't find anything, just like she'd said.
"If you're ready, we can go to my car now," she said, zipping her suitcase. I need to get home. The bad spell mama had the other night turned around, but I'm still in a hurry to see for myself."
I nodded. "Thanks for letting us look."
She just nodded. "If it puts you at ease that I didn't kill her, then it's worth the extra few minutes."
Hunter took a look under the bed, then noddod. "Thank you."
She waited for us to get into the hall, then pulled the door shut behind us. We followed her out through the lobby, where she handed in her keys, the out the back door. That was why we hadn't seen her car—it was parked in the back lot rather than the front.
"You should be careful parking in remote places like this," Hunter said.
"Trust me, Sheriff, this place is nothing compared to Atlanta. "Yeah," I said. "It's usually safe just about anywhere in Keyhole Lake, but right now there's a murderer on the loose."
She barked out a laugh. "Trust me, Ms. Flynn—I'd bet my bottom dollar that whoever killed Loretta has no interest in murdering anybody else."
"And what makes you say that?" I asked. It was a weird comment for her to make.
She looked at me with raised brows. "Are you honestly going to tell me that, with all the people you've interviewed, you haven't come to the conclusion that regardless of who did it, it was undoubtedly linked to something awful she did to them?"
I couldn't dispute that, but I didn't want to agree with her either, so I just replied with a neutral hum.
When we were almost to her car, she hit a button and the trunk popped open. She motioned to it with a flourish. "No blood stains, hair samples, or creepy messages from Loretta's ghost naming me the murderer."
Hunter pulled he light off his belt and shined it into the trunk. It was clean as a whistle.
"Here," she said, opening the driver's door. I can pull the seat up so you can check in the back, but if you think I pulled a body into that crawlspace, your spacial estimation skills are way distorted."
We glance in, but she was right—there was no way she got a body back there. I couldn't even imagine two normal-sized people being able to get a body in there.
As bad as I hated to admit it, she was either telling the truth or was getting away with murder, because there was nothing at all linking her to the murder.
I could practically hear the iron doors slamming shut behind Corale
e.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
"THANK YOU FOR YOUR time and for being so cooperative, Ms. Cooly," Hunter said, pulling a business card out of his wallet. Our investigation is ongoing, and if you think of anything or hear anything that may be of help, please give me a call. We have an innocent woman going to jail, and any help we can get is greatly appreciated."
She took the card and nodded, then climbed into her car.
When we'd almost made it back to the building and she still hadn't started her car, I turned around to see what the holdup was. She was resting her forehead on the steering wheel, almost as if she was recovering from something. I wondered if she was so relieved because she made it though the interview and search. It didn't matter, I supposed, since we hadn't found anything.
Rather than walk all the way around the building via the slush-covered parking lot, we opted to cut back through the lobby. I waved to Rachael on our way past and called out a thank you. She just waved back, then turned her attention back to whatever she was doing on the computer.
Several people were loading their cars up, and Delilah Merryweather's form jumped out at me, standing behind a pearl-colored Caddy. I nudged Hunter with my elbow. "Do you think she'll voluntarily let us search her car?" I asked.
He shook his head, adamant. "Absolutely not. She knows her rights and would be a pain in the ass even if she didn't have anything to hide, just on principle."
Yeah, that was kind of my take on her too. Still, it wouldn't hurt to at least corroborate Leighann's story about her mother.
"Ms. Merryweather!" Hunter called when we were close to her. She turned and gave us a pleasant smile, her trunk open and one suitcase propped between her leg and the bumper to keep it out of the slush while she wrestled another one other in. Hunter hurried forward the last few steps and grabbed it before it could slide to the ground.
"Sheriff, what a nice surprise," she said as she moved her knee and let him take the suitcase.
"I'm glad you think so," he said. "We just have a couple questions."
Her cell vibrated in her pocket, but she ignored it. "Ask away," she said, flashing us a super-white smile. "I have nothing to hide."
"We had a witness tell us you were in the diner two nights ago with Leighann Cooly, and she was distressed about something," he said.
She tilted her head at him. "Not that it's any of your business, but she was upset about her career choices. She's been doubting her decision for a while now, and that whole thing with Loretta knocked the wind out of her sails."
Her phone buzzed again, and Hunter inclined his head in the direction of her pocket. "Are you going to get that?"
"No," she said. "Whoever it is can wait the two minutes it's going to take for us to finish this conversation."
She stepped back so he could lift the suitcase into her trunk, and a little flash of red caught my eye. My thoughts flipped back to the night we found the body, and the red wool coat Loretta's been wearing.
I struggled to maintain a nonchalant attitude. "Hunter?"
"Yeah?" he said, reaching up to close the trunk.
"Don't close the lid!" If he did, then we'd need a warrant to get her to open it again. I wasn't law enforcement, so I didn't think my word would count toward probable cause. I pushed my purse out so that it was between the car and the trunk lid, just in case.
I didn't need to, though she reached forward and tried to close it herself. He stopped her from doing so, and I pointed up at the red scrap caught in the latch.
"Stand right there," he said, pointing at her. "Don't move."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out an evidence bag, and stuck his hand through the bottom so that he could grab the scrap of cloth without touching it. He plucked it from the latch, then sealed it and handed it to me.
I pulled it closer to examine it, and nodded. "It's red wool."
"So what?" Delilah said. "I have a red wool sweater. I must have snagged it at some point when I was loading groceries or something into the trunk."
Hunter pulled the flashlight off his belt and shined it into the trunk, looking closely at the rear part. He paused near a corner and dragged the beam of light back across an area. Reaching into his pocket again, he pulled out another evidence bag and retrieved something from the area he'd double checked. He sealed it then handed it to me. It was a clump of brunette hair.
"I don't suppose you have a good excuse for this too, do you?" I asked, and Hunter turned to her, waiting for the answer.
When she didn't say anything, Hunter pulled his cuffs off his belt. "Delilah Merryweather, you're under arrest for the murder of Loretta Higgins ..." he read her her rights as he cuffed her, then patted her down, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. That's all she had in her pockets, but the screen was lit, showing two missed calls from Leighann.
The little green VW whipped into the spot beside the Caddy, and Leighann jumped out, crying.
"Leighann," Delilah barked, "Get back in the car and go home. I'll handle this."
Looking back and forth between the two of them, I tried to make the pieces fit.
"I did it!" Leighann said, rushing toward us. "I killed her."
Delilah scowled at her, then twisted her head around to Hunter. "No," she bit out, "she didn't. I killed her. Leighann had been in my room the night before trimming my hair. She left her scissors there, and Loretta came to my room, this time to inform me she'd just taken on a nice couple as clients. She gave me their names, and they were my clients. Set to view a million-dollar listing the day after we got back."
"Delilah, no," Leighann said, sobbing. "Stop. Don't say another word."
Delilah sighed. "Sugar, they have me dead to rights."
"But they don't!" Leighann cried. "You have an alibi!"
"Sheriff, a little leeway, please?" She turned toward Leighann. "Listen to me, and listen good, okay? You have your whole career ahead of you. Go make something of yourself. My actions are just that—mine. Now get in your car and go home."
"But—" Leighann looked back and forth between us and Delilah, unsure what to do.
"No buts, girl! Do as I say!"
Leighann turned and tottered toward her car, stumbling a little as she looked back over her shoulder a final time before she rounded the VW and got in.
"Are you gonna let her go?" I asked Hunter.
He watched her climb in, chewing his lip. "For now," he said. "I know where she's at if I need to get her."
"She's right, you know," I said to Delilah, curious as to how it went down. "You do have an alibi. So how did the body get there?"
She turned her head and studied me, and something passed between us. Compassion. Maybe understanding.
"I'll give you a full confession. Trust me when I tell you she had nothing to do with the murder. She's a good kid in a tough spot, and she deserves a break."
Hunter glanced at me and I lifted a shoulder. That was his call, and I wasn't going to offer an opinion. "A full confession," he said. "In writing."
"In writing," she agreed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
IT HAD BEEN ALMOST a week since the arrest, and things were calming down. The consensus was that Leighann had walked into Delilah's room shortly after the murder, and they'd crocked up a plan to get rid of the body. There was no evidence against Leighann because she hadn't done it, so if Delilah had an alibi for when the body was dumped, they were in the clear. Since Delilah refused to say a word, and Hunter figured he had his murderer—and there really wasn't any evidence against Leighann—speculation was all we'd likely ever have.
We had a quiet get-together for Coralee at the farm, and most everybody made it. Gabi brought Michael, even though I warned her it may not be best to throw all of us at him at once. It turned out to be fine, and I had a feeling he was going to fit right in.
Will came, and he and Gabi talked shop for a bit before I cut them off. There was plenty of time for that now that she was working for him full time. Ali had been almost relieved when
Will fired her, so I didn't think there were going to be any hard feelings there. Gabi'd put in a ton of hours her first few days there, but said she almost had things whipped into shape enough to get a functional system going.
Camille had come home because she'd flat-out ran out of leads. There were no marks on the bodies, no DNA at the scenes, and no signs of forced entry.
My dreams had disappeared, and I was trying to talk them into letting me go to sleep without the charms and wards, but, to a woman, they refused. They said I wasn't ready to deal with something like that on my own, and I had to agree. We didn't even know what we were fighting, let alone how to fight it. Unfortunately, though, it wasn't over. I had the feeling it hadn't even really begun yet.
I'd been rattling around in my shop for an hour or so, putting the final touches on the armoire, when the bell above the door jangled. I dusted off my hands and pushed though the batwing doors between my work area and the front retail space. A pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman stepped in, careful to wipe her boots on the mat before she stepped onto the tile.
"Hi!" I said, "Welcome to Reimagined. I'm Noelle."
She turned, smiling, but a little unsure. "Hi! I was just driving by and had the craziest urge to stop. I'm from Keyhole Lake originally, but we moved to Atlanta when I was small."
"That's great," I said. "What brings you back now?" If she was drawn in, it was likely there was a piece somewhere with her name on it. That had happened a few times, and I don't know whether it was because a little bit of my magic went into each piece, or if fate just worked that way and I noticed it more because I knew what to look for.
"My aunt and uncle retired here several years ago, and he died last year. My aunt passed day before yesterday, so we're down for the funeral, then we have to sort their stuff and take care of business. They didn't have any kids, so it's up to my brothers and I." She looked sad for a minute. "Mama passed five years ago, so Aunt Eve was the last of ten brothers and sisters."