“He’s dead all right,” one of the attendants said. “Looks like he was hit over the head with that bookend.” I had seen the bookend, shaped like a horse’s head. It looked like marble or granite, probably weighed a ton. I didn’t turn to look.
“I called the coroner,” the cop said.
The two attendants stood. “No point in us sticking around. The coroner will want to see the body before it’s picked up.”
“We need to get the forensic team over here,” the cop said, pulling out his cell phone.
“Did you see anyone coming out when you arrived?” Lombard asked.
“Not a soul. In fact, I remember noticing how quiet this area of the building is.”
She nodded. “The killer could just as easily have come in and out through that window.” I glanced in the direction she was looking. The window was on the back wall. It was slightly open.
She walked over. “See how easily it opens and closes?” She demonstrated. Then she leaned out, looking at the ground below. “There are footprints here. Steve?” she said to the other cop. “I want you to make sure the technicians get plaster casts of those imprints.”
He gave her a who-died-and-made-you-boss look, but he got his cell phone out, nonetheless, and made a second call.
“Della?” Lombard was looking at me strangely. “Are you all right? You’re awfully pale.” I was surprised at how considerate she was being.
“It’s the smell.”
“You still have to walk us through what happened when you came in this morning, before you discovered the body.”
Ah, that explained her attentive behavior. Her concern was not for me but for her investigation. I swallowed hard, and stood, grasping the doorframe for support. “I knocked a couple of times, and got no answer, so I tried the handle—”
“Why?” Lombard asked.
I shrugged. “I wanted to leave him a message. I was surprised when the door opened. I went over to the desk.” I gestured toward it. “I was looking for a piece of paper, something to write him a note. That’s when I saw him on the floor.”
“What did you do then?”
“I turned around and got the hell out.”
The mustached officer had finished his call and was leaning out the open window, examining the ground. “It looks like somebody trampled the flower bed all along the side of the building. What do you want to bet those footsteps are the gardener’s?”
Lombard threw him a nasty look and sniffed, as if insulted. “We can’t jump to conclusions. When we get the casts, we’ll get forensics to compare them to the gardener’s shoes.”
“Forensics?” I said. “The police department has a forensics team?”
She reddened. “The department might bring in experts.” I seriously doubted that. Considering how little experience the local police had with murder, bringing in experts would be a good thing, but the town did not have that kind of a budget.
“There’s another entrance right outside this office,” I said. And then seeing the suspicion in her eyes, I explained. “I happened to try it from outside, but it was locked.”
Officer Lombard stepped out and examined the door, pulling the edge of her sleeve over her fingertips, she gave the handle a try—opened it and closed it. “It latches automatically when you close it,” she noted.
“Somebody could have exited the building that way, but unless it had been left propped open, they would have had to come in by the main entrance,” I said. Lombard nodded slowly, still eyeing me with mistrust.
The young officer came over, opened the door and looked out. “Even if someone had left this way, there wouldn’t necessarily be fingerprints on the door. They could have used gloves.”
Lombard regarded him with a scowl. “And now, whatever fingerprints might have been on the handle are covered with yours.”
He looked down at his hand. “Oh, shoot.” And then brightening up, he added, “But I didn’t touch the outside handle.”
“But I did,” I said. This was followed by groans all around.
Officer Lombard turned to me. “You’re sure you didn’t notice anyone when you came in?”
“Not a soul. And I didn’t hear anything either.” My eyes had automatically paused on the body as I said this. “Do you mind if I go back outside? I’m not feeling very well.”
At that moment Officer Harrison, Lombard’s partner, stepped in, followed by Dr. Cook, the county coroner. I had met Dr. Cook before. He was a nice old man and too kind a person to be a coroner. The problem was that after a lifetime of caring for the town folk, the good doctor could never believe that any of his neighbors—as he called everyone who lived in the area—could be killers. As a result, he had in the past signed off on some deaths as natural, only for them to be identified as murders at a later date. He nodded to me and went straight to the victim.
“Did you touch anything?” Lombard asked me, narrowing her eyes.
“Not a thing. All I did was knock. When there was no answer, I tried the door and walked in. I got out of there as soon as I saw him.”
“So you touched the doorknob of his office, not just the outside knob?” she said.
“Er, yes, but that was all.”
She shook her head, sighing. “Okay. Let’s get out of here. The tech guys should be here any minute.”
I headed down the hall, happy to get away from the sour smell of death.
“By the way. You never did tell me why you wanted to see the victim.”
“I had my shop remodeled and he’d just approved the occupancy permit. I came by to pick it up.”
One of the officers inside said, “There’s a whole stack of permits right here.” He pointed to a pile of yellow forms on the desk.
“Can you see if mine is in there?” I asked, stepping forward. “I need it to open my shop.”
Officer Lombard planted herself in front of the door. “You can’t have anything from in here. You should know that by now.”
“But my permit has nothing to do with his murder.”
The cop inside said, “I just went through and none of them are signed.”
Lombard stared at me through narrowed eyes. “Are you sure your permit was supposed to be ready when you came here?” Her expression said what her words didn’t. She considered me a suspect.
My mouth dropped open. “You think I killed him because he refused me a permit? That’s just nuts.” Lombard knew me well enough to know I was no killer. But looking at her now, I couldn’t decide whether she was seriously considering me as a suspect or if she was just playing with my mind.
“Don’t worry. You’re not on my radar,” she said almost grudgingly. “But you know as well as I do that I have to ask you all these questions.” She paused, getting her notebook and pen from her pocket. “One more thing. Did you have any reason to be angry at Mr. Swanson?” she asked. I felt the blood rise to my face.
“No, of course not. I never had any dealings with him.”
Her eyes lasered into mine. “But you did have dealings with him. He had the power to allow you or refuse you your permit. Are you sure he’d approved it?” It sounded to me as if she was intent on pinning this murder on me. Her tone was sounding more and more accusing by the second.
I met her gaze straight on. “This is crazy, and I don’t have to listen to this. Unless I’m under arrest, you can’t force me to stay here.”
“Hold on a second. I still have a couple of questions. Are you sure you didn’t see anyone leave the building?” she asked, her tone less accusatory.
“I already told you twice that I didn’t.”
“What about in the parking lot?”
All at once I remembered the car that had almost smashed into my Jeep. “You’re right. I did see someone, or rather, a car. It was a small silver hatchback.”
“Silver? That’s not much of a
description. Half the cars in Belmont are that color. What about the make and model?”
“Sorry. I couldn’t tell the difference between one manufacturer and another.”
“What about the driver then?” She didn’t sound as if she believed me one bit.
“I couldn’t describe him. It all happened too fast. One second he was about to crash into me, and then I swerved and he flashed by. All I saw was someone wearing sunglasses and a light blue baseball cap.”
“So what you’re telling me is that you saw some mystery person speed by in a car you can’t describe. I suppose you want me to believe the reason he was in such a hurry is because he was running from the scene of the crime? Am I right?” Now she was mocking me. Still, I answered her seriously.
“At the time I thought it was probably some crazy teenager.”
“How sure are you that the driver was a male?”
“Er . . . actually no. I just figured—because of the baseball cap.”
She seemed to think all of this over for a moment and then she mumbled something indistinct and scribbled a few words in her notebook. I wondered if she believed me after all.
“Well, with all the information you gave us, we’ll probably have this case solved by the end of the day.” She gave me a smile that was more like a sneer.
“Can I go now?”
“I know where to find you if I need you. I’ll probably have more questions for you so don’t leave town.”
I made my way to my Jeep on shaky legs and automatically headed over to Matthew’s house. I was in dire need of a good ear, a soft shoulder, some reassurance and a hug. Mostly a hug.
Chapter 5
Matthew Baker and I went back a long way. His mother and mine, having been college friends, had kept in touch ever since. His family and mine got together for holidays and special occasions for as long as I remembered. And then, a couple of years ago, the friendship I felt for him caught fire. Unfortunately, Matthew’s feelings took longer to ignite. But it all turned out well in the end. We had recently become an item, a turnaround that threw both our mothers into a state of rapture.
I parked in front of his house and called his name as I walked in.
“In here,” he answered from the kitchen.
I dashed over and caught him standing in front of the coffee machine, wearing nothing but a towel around his midsection. He turned to face me, giving me a view of his wide shoulders and tight abs. I quashed an impulse to run my hands over him.
“Guess I caught you at a bad time,” I said instead.
“Or a good time,” he said, coming close and giving me a kiss. “Uh-oh. What’s wrong?” And then, before I could answer, he continued. “Give me a minute. I’ll go jump into some clothes and be right back.”
I watched him hurry away with butterflies in my stomach. Matthew was everything I had ever wanted in a man. He was warm and loving, smart, and most important, he and I shared the same values. The rest was just gravy. But what nice gravy it was. He was gorgeous, tall—I barely reached his shoulders—with dark hair and beautiful light brown eyes that had a way of turning golden when he smiled, or dark brown when he was angry.
A minute went by and then he came back down, wearing jeans and a sweater. “I was just making coffee. Want a cup?”
“Thank God you’re here,” I said, coming over for a hug. “You won’t believe what happened.” He was patting my back, making reassuring noises.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fixable.”
For some reason, all the emotions I’d been holding in came surging forth at his display of sympathy. I was able to handle Lombard’s lack of compassion and sarcasm, but in moments like this, I couldn’t take kindness without falling apart. The next second I was weeping inconsolably.
From the mat in front of the stove, Winston, Matthew’s French bulldog, came bouncing over, wiggling his butt—a great big ball of slobbering love.
Winston had a fierce flat face on a squat, muscular body. For all his brutish appearance, he was twenty-five pounds of pure teddy bear. Matthew and I often joked that an assailant might be in mortal danger of being licked to death.
He jumped up and rubbed his wet nose against my hands—an attempt, no doubt, to console me. Even the dog was being sweet.
I pulled out of Matthew’s arms and scratched Winnie behind the ear. “Hi, boy.” He barked his pleasure. “Yes, I’m happy to see you too.”
“Here. Have a seat,” Matthew said, pulling out a chair. “Looks to me like you could use a cup of coffee.”
I nodded and pulled myself together. “I’m so glad you’re here. How was your meeting with your publisher?”
He grabbed a mug from the cupboard and gave it to me. “Never mind that now. Tell me why you’re so upset.”
“I had to go by city hall this morning, to get my occupancy permit.” I explained that it had been approved earlier, but somehow the inspector had neglected to leave one with Syd. “But when I got there, he was dead,” I said, fighting a fresh surge of tears. “I found his body.” I grabbed a paper napkin from the basket on the table and wiped my eyes. “You should have seen all the blood.”
“No wonder you’re so upset.”
“I’m feeling better now, but I doubt I’ll have much appetite for a while.”
“You called the police, of course.” I nodded. “And more important, you didn’t tamper with the crime scene did you?”
Much as that comment stung, I couldn’t blame him. I had once borrowed something from a murder scene. Okay, so maybe I’d done that twice—but only to help the police with their investigation of course. And the important thing was that I put it back. But no matter how much explaining and apologizing I did, Matthew had been livid. The thing is, before becoming an author, Matthew taught criminology at UNC. And before that, he was an FBI agent. Lately the local police had taken to calling him in on some of their cases as a consultant. From this, I had learned one important lesson. One might be able to get the man out of the FBI. But one could never take the FBI out of the man.
“I did not touch a thing, except for the doorknob when I opened the door.” I said nothing about the light switch and the message pad. “And I got out of there the minute I saw him.”
“Thank God for small favors.” He came over and wrapped his arms around me again, gathering me into a warm embrace that soothed all remaining stress right out of me. I melted into his arms. He smelled divine, an intoxicating mixture of citrus and musk. I breathed him in.
“Well, I’m flattered you come to me when you’re upset.” He released me and refilled both our cups. “So tell me everything.”
I did. I told him about how I’d found him, how I’d been sick in the parking lot and how the police had come and questioned everyone. “And of course, which officer would show up, but Lombard.”
He looked at me puzzled. “What difference would that make?”
“I may be wrong, but I have a bad feeling she’s going to try to pin this on me.”
“You have a feeling?” He gave me an amused smile. “You’re starting to sound like Jenny.”
“I’m being serious, Matthew.”
He squeezed my hand. “I think maybe you’re worrying for nothing.”
“If you’re suggesting that I’m being paranoid, you’re wrong. She all but said that she thought I’d killed him. She seems to think that Swanson wouldn’t grant me a permit and that I killed him over that.”
“That sounds like a pretty thin reason for murder if you ask me.”
“Maybe, but she warned me not to go anywhere, that she’d have more questions for me.”
“She was just teasing you,” he said. “And if you hadn’t had such a shock you would see that too.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Even supposing I wasn’t. You know how the police work. After a murder, everyone is a suspect.
” He stroked my cheek with his finger. “You have nothing to be concerned about. Trust me.”
“You really think so?”
He nodded. “Now, I’d like you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Repeat after me, ‘I will not get involved.’”
I was just taking a sip. I put down my cup, perhaps a bit hard because coffee spilled over the rim. “That is not fair. All I did was find a body. You can’t blame me for that. Unless you think I should have walked away without calling the cops.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Repeat after me,” he said again, his voice tighter this time. “I will not—”
“Wait a minute. I just want to understand this. Are you giving me an order?”
“I’m telling you that I don’t want you to get involved, because I care. Is that so difficult to grasp?” Suddenly, the atmosphere had changed. A moment ago it had been warm and loving. Now it bordered on explosive.
I took a deep breath and in a calm voice, said, “I don’t tell you what to do or not do. I don’t have that right. And neither do you.”
“Della, if you start snooping around, you could get yourself into some real trouble. And I don’t want to have to worry about my girlfriend all the time. If you get yourself into another jam, I swear I’ll . . . I’ll . . .” He paused.
“You’ll what?” I asked, my voice now rising. “You’ll break off with me?” He stood there glaring at me, his mouth an angry line. “Fine,” I said. “If that’s the way you want it.” I grabbed my bag and stormed out of the house.
Chapter 6
I drove away in a screech of tires. Much as I loved the man, sometimes he could make me spitting mad. If he thought I was going to become a biddable girlfriend, he had another think coming.
I parked behind the shop and took a moment to calm myself down. After a few deep breaths I decided to keep this argument to myself. No point in rehashing all the details with Jenny and Marnie. I already knew what they’d say—that I’d overreacted, that I should call him and apologize. In other words, all the things I was already telling myself. I’ll wait a day and then I’ll decide.
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