Someone had not had a good night. I took a step back, struck a casual pose against a post and shrugged. “I was worried,” I stated calmly. “I saw the shop wasn’t open. If you recall, we did just happen to miss a killer last night. I was concerned so I came.”
Some of the harried look disappeared. She pushed the door wider and waved me inside. “Come in. I had a late night, a business meeting with Thomas, Peter and mother. Oh, and of course, the family lawyer, Patrick McGill.”
“Uh, oh,” I muttered as I followed her into the kitchen done in formal black and white. I was sure her brothers’, Thomas and Peter, had a mouthful to say. Elenora Butterfield didn’t have to say a lot. She spoke volumes with her silence. Thankfully, Patrick was known for his patience. One needed that when dealing with Butterfields. Coffee perked from a stainless steel maker atop a black granite countertop.
Johanna pulled out an extra mug and set it beside hers. She rubbed a hand tiredly across her eyes. “By the time everyone had finished chewing me out about being stupid and acting in a manner that failed to dignify the Butterfield name I didn’t get home till three.” She reached out, poured herself a cup and then got out of my way. “I’ll open the shop after lunch. I just couldn’t get going this morning.”
“So the only excitement about the meeting was getting yelled at?” I chuckled as I poured a cup. “I’m surprised you went at all.”
“I knew what was coming,” she sighed. Johanna gave me a glance over her cup and shrugged. “Mother called me.”
“And one does not disappoint Elenora Butterfield,” I stated with mimicked stateliness in my voice.
Johanna’s eyes narrowed. The look failed when a second later her lips twitched. “Oh, shut up,” she laughed as she put the cup down on the table and sat. “I went because I wanted to hear what Patrick had to say.” Her voice dipped. “I’m not certain what Gabe’s going to do.”
I took a sip of the hot liquid. She had to be referring to the earring. “How do you think that your earring happened to get there?”
Johanna’s gaze was troubled. “That’s the problem. You know how I am with those clip-ons. Before the day’s out I have to go around the shop and find my earrings because I’m always laying one down, usually to answer the phone and then leaving the other somewhere because I realize that I’m only wearing one earring.”
“So?”
She wrinkled her brow. “I remember setting them on the main counter the day before and I know that I left the house without any yesterday morning. I just can’t remember if I put them on yesterday and if I did, when I took them off. The day was so crazy. The shop was nuts. It was just too confusing.”
“Well I’m not certain how that will help your case,” I murmured softly.
“So now I have a case,” Johanna responded rigidly.
I took another sip and let it slide slowly, warmly down my throat. I took a breath. “Jo, Gabe’s not very likely to let a murder go, even for a Butterfield.” I could see that she was bristling. “And unless you find someone else that might have wanted Rebekah Peterson dead, you appear to be the number one suspect.” I shrugged. “You just have to face facts and trust that, because you’re innocent, the truth will come out.”
She groaned and slumped in her seat. “That’s what Patrick said.” Johanna wiped her palms through her eyes and looked across the table at me tiredly. “The thing is, the only people besides me who might have a wanted this woman dead are my own family and I can’t go there, Sophie.”
I nodded in agreement. It was similar to the argument I’d had with myself. But sooner or later Johanna was going to realize that this wasn’t going to go away and before the dust settled, probably all the members of the Butterfield clan would be under scrutiny. She might not want to go there but it was most definitely a road she would have to travel down.
A crisp knock sounded at the front. Johanna glared. “I’m not here for gossipmongers,” she yelled out.
I doubted her voice carried to the person waiting. The knock came again. I rose and patted her shoulder, “I’ll check it out, fearless leader.” I made my way down the hall and to the door. I peered out the side window. Uh, oh. Gabe. This couldn’t be good. I took a deep breath. He was in the process of raising his hand once more as I flipped the lock and opened the door. “Gabe,” I squeaked out, “what a surprise.”
Those dark eyes bore into mine. There was a frown stretched across his face. I could have sworn he was trying to read my mind, his gaze was so intent. I did my best not to squirm. Gabe tapped his hat against his leg and muttered, “Why am I not surprised?”
“Hey, just stopped to check on a friend.” I put the emphasis on friend as I stepped back and led the way into the house. I could hear him utter something under his breath as he followed.
Johanna popped her head up and looked through the open area over the countertop between the kitchen and the living room. She stopped and frowned at the sight of Gabe. “Oh, it’s you.”
I shrugged. “It didn’t look like he would believe you weren’t home.”
“Johanna,” Gabe said gravely. He tapped his hat against his leg.
I wondered if Gabe knew he had that nervous habit.
Johanna sat down with a thump on the cushion set in the chair. “Forgive me, but consider yourself unwelcome.” She picked up her cup, took a sip and ignored Gabe.
He sighed. “I wish I was here as a friendly neighbor—”
Johanna broke in, “I’ve already told you. I don’t know how that earring got next to the telephone. I can’t explain it but I did not kill that woman.”
“I’m not here about the earring,” Gabe snapped. He flung his hat down on the table and reached into a side pocket. He pulled out a piece of fabric. It was several shades of pale green and white colors woven into an intricate braided pattern. The material looked like silk. I thought it was beautiful.
Johanna went still. She set down her cup and took the fabric. Her eyes flickered to his in surprise. “Where did you get this?”
“I was going to ask you about it. It’s a piece from Southern Comfort, isn’t?”
“Where did you get it?” Johanna insisted.
Gabe sighed. “Just tell me about the scarf.”
Johanna threw a fleeting glance my way. There was apprehension in her eyes. She studied the material in her hands as she spoke. “It’s a Southern Comfort exclusive. I know the woman who makes the scarves and worked a deal where she sells through my stores and gets the exposure for her work.”
“Which explains the SC initials on the tag,” Gabe said. “I thought so. My sister Claire bought one last fall and mentioned something along the same lines when she showed it to me.”
I stared at the fabric in Johanna’s hands. What did this have to do with Rebekah Peterson’s death?
Johanna stared at Gabe, perplexed. “But that doesn’t explain what you’re doing with it.”
I glanced over at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
She picked up the scarf and handed it to me. I studied it as she turned back toward Gabe. “This is part of my spring collection, what I spent last night setting out. How did you get it from my store and why, may I ask, did you?”
Gabe’s jaw tightened. “You haven’t sold any of this collection to the public?”
Both of us stared at him in growing confusion. I couldn’t explain the rising tension within me. I set aside the scarf, pushed it back across the table. For an unknown reason I felt no desire to have the material close.
Johanna spoke up. “Gabe, would you please explain what this is all about.
He picked up the scarf and stared down at its intricate pattern. “It was found under the body.” His gaze studied Johanna’s face as he continued, “Chloe tells me it’s what killed Rebekah Peterson.”
I gasped at his words.
Johanna’s eyes widened. “She was strangled,” she hissed.
Gabe nodded. “It appears that whoever killed her hit her over the head, probably to subdue her, and
then strangled her.” He slipped the silky material down into his side pocket.
I shuddered. I suddenly felt the need to clean my hands. Jo must have felt the same way. She was looking at her fingers, holding them out in front of her.”
Gabe continued, “Chloe seemed to think that those actions might point to a woman doing the killing. She thinks a woman might have struck the first blow to avoid a struggle. A man could have strangled Rebekah without much resistance.”
I watched Gabe watching Johanna as he spoke. Those coffee eyes of his were weighing her reactions and it hit me. He actually thought Johanna might have done it; killed some perfect stranger she’d only just met. I drew back and opened my mouth to speak. Nothing came out as I suddenly realized that the only information Gabe had was incriminating.
What could I say that would alter his professional opinion? My feelings? My sincere belief in Johanna’s innocence? These were not things he was trained to take into consideration. What I was using to weigh Johanna blameless was unreliable and I realized that I could understand where Gabe was coming from. None of this changed my opinion, though. I knew this woman. Johanna could be prissy at times, sure. But a killer? No way. I stared at my two good friends, and waited.
Gabe sighed. “Got an explanation for me, Johanna?”
She looked at the scarf. “This is crazy. I don’t understand what is happening.” Johanna looked at Gabe and shook her head. “I don’t know how my earring or that particular scarf got into that room. I didn’t bring either with me. They were both at the shop the last time I saw them.”
His eyes narrowed. “What are you trying to say? That someone’s trying to frame you?” He gave a derisive snort.
Johanna’s arms shot up in the air. “What am I supposed to believe? That I’ve suddenly lost my mind and started killing people, unaware of what I’m doing?”
“Uh, guys,” I said, trying to break the growing tension in the room.
Gabe threw me a dark look, before settling it on Johanna. He leaned against the table and down into her face. “Okay, let’s go with your theory. The only possible suspects other than you that I might consider would all involve your family. They’ve all suddenly become tightlipped about one Rebekah Peterson as if she was persona non grata. Would you like to let me in on the little secret because I will find out, rest assured.” Gabe tilted his head to the side and said a considering tone, “Who exactly would you like me to bump up to the top of the list? Which one do you think is trying to frame you?”
“None of my family is framing me,” Johanna ground out darkly.
“Oh.” Gabe stepped back. “Then who, pray tell, would you like to bump to the top of the list since apparently you’ve saved me all this time and trouble and solved the murder.”
“You know, you can be real snotty at times, Gabe.” Johanna slammed her cup down. I was surprised it didn’t shatter from the force. Several drops splattered the tabletop. Johanna didn’t appear to notice as she rose and leaned against the counter with her arms outstretched. She waggled her wrists. “Did you bring your cuffs?”
I winced. Great, Johanna. Piss him off completely.
“Talk about being snotty, Jo,” Gabe stated tersely, “You’re lucky I’m not in a truly bad mood or I’d oblige you.” He reached over and grabbed his hat, twirling it in his fingers. “I am going to need you to come down to the station and answer a few questions and before you ask, no we may not answer them here.”
“Why not?” she snapped.
“I’ve fought long and hard for a reputation as someone who gives everyone a fair shake.” Gabe put his free hand on the back of one chair and a booted foot on the rung. “I can’t let it be seen that a Butterfield is above the law or the rules. I’m not asking you to do anything that I wouldn’t ask of someone else. If a crime scene leaves me with questions, I consider it a normal request for the people involved to come to the office to answer further questions. That is what I’m asking of you. The same thing that I would ask of any—“
“Normal criminal,” Johanna spat out, “Which I am not.”
“—of any person involved with a crime,” he finished.
They stared at each other, both angry, more at the situation than with each other. Not that they would be willing to acknowledge the fact. I felt like a referee and an intruder all at the same time. I hated to speak but someone had to break them up. “Uh, Gabe, are you going to need me to come by the office?”
Gabe glanced at me and blinked at the spell I’d broken. “No. Not at this time.” He glanced back at Johanna. “I’d like you to drop by this afternoon.”
“I take it that my lawyer should be there?” she asked bitterly.
He sighed and tapped his leg again with the hat, then shrugged. “That’s up to you. It wouldn’t be a bad idea, though. I’ll see you at the office later.” Gabe gave a nod. “Don’t worry ladies. I’ll find my own way out.” He gave me a nod. “Sophie.” And turned and walked out of the kitchen.
I waited until I heard the front door open and shut with a thud. I glanced at Johanna. She moved in a daze away from the sink and slumped down into a chair. “You all right?” I asked. I know, stupid question to ask your friend who suddenly feels like she’s about to be sent up for the next thirty years.
Johanna put her hand to her forehead and smoothed some hair back behind one ear. She gave me a frown and shook her head. “No. I can’t believe this happening. That woman has managed to ruin me and my family’s life in only a few days.”
“She did have to die to do that, you realize,” I murmured low.
“Oh, stick up for the dead woman. Poor her.”
I set my coffee down. “I’m not sticking up for her, but you do need to remember that a woman is dead and I’m sure she didn’t intend for it to happen. Someone murdered her.”
“And framed me,” Johanna fumed. “It’s infuriating. Don’t they know who I am?”
I blinked. “Of course they know who you are. That was probably their point. They knew that as soon as fingers were pointed your way that it would be difficult to see anyone else. And then you sort of helped make yourself a target after yesterday’s rampage at Annie’s and then going to her motel room last night.” I sighed, “I don’t think you could have helped them more if you’d tried.”
“Oh, please feel free to be my friend and defend me,” she said, “Instead of telling me everything I’ve done wrong in the past twenty-four hours.” She clutched her hands to her face. “Mother and Thomas are going to kill me.”
I started to console her, and stopped. She did have a point there.
Jo rubbed her eyes tiredly before glancing at me. “Look. I have to do a few things before the afternoon.” She took in her kitchen with a muddled gaze, then shook her head as if to clear it from a fog. “I’ll be at the shop late this afternoon. I’m not certain if I’ll be open or just doing some bookwork.” Johanna shook her head again. “I can’t believe I missed today. I had put some much work into showcasing the new spring line.”
I shrugged. “I think you would have got more gossipmongers than customers.”
She arched a brow and gave me a weary smile. “I have perfected the guilt sale. A true entrepreneur knows how to go with all flows of the stream.”
I smiled at her optimism. “Well, there’s always tomorrow.”
“Exactly,” she muttered. “I just have to get through the afternoon without killing Gabe from frustration.”
“He’ll see the truth,” I stated softly. Inside though, I wondered. Gabe had looked very concerned and startled by the evidence he’d found at Rebekah’s room at the B&B. Still, I managed a smile. “Just act like a normal person—“
“Who’s being treated like a criminal,” she finished.
My smile dropped. “Johanna. Please.”
She waved a hand. “I’m fine. Go. We can talk later. I need to get my head straight and I’ve got to call Patrick. Thomas is just going to love this.”
I stood and set my cup in the sink. “Oka
y. Just give me a call if you want to talk later or if you just need me for anything.”
“Thanks, Soph. I appreciate it.”
I made my way back to the shop. My feelings were in turmoil so I steered clear of Gabe’s office. A part of me wanted to see exactly all the evidence that Gabe had found and have a clear discussion with him over it. Another part of me wanted to rant and rave at his actions toward my best friend. Since I wasn’t certain which part of my personality would erupt, I opted to chicken out and go back to work. There would always be time.
I could hear Jane humming as I came through the front door. It was to Aretha Franklin’s, ‘Respect’. I knew before walking into the kitchen what I would find. Jane, dancing and wiggling to the music as she moved around seeking supplies for cooking. This was her inspirational music. It got her groove going, as she was apt to tell me. The stove burners were on and I could smell heated chocolate in the air. It never gets old, that aroma. Jane really gets into her music so I stood there a full three minutes before she caught me watching as she spun back toward the stove to check her pan. Did I mention she also has no shame?
Jane flashed me a grin as she did a little jig while stirring. “Well?”
I didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. “We need to talk.”
A gleam appeared in her eyes. “Oh, goody, now the good stuff.”
I rolled my eyes at her antics. “Jane, can you be serious for once? I could swear that Gabe really does think Johanna killed Rebekah Peterson.”
“Nah.”
I threw my bag on the counter. “You didn’t see him, the way he questioned her, the look on his face at her answers.”
Jane waved her spatula in my direction. “Hold it. Let’s start at the beginning. What is the connection between Johanna and this Rebekah person?”
I hesitated. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Jane. It was just that I already knew her reaction.
Jane was slowly stirring the pot. “I’m waiting.”
When No One Was Looking (Sophie McGuire Mysteries) Page 7