SB03 - The Defender's Duty

by Shirlee McCoy

  He looked into her eyes, a puzzled frown carving lines beside his mouth. “I thought we agreed you were staying in the car.”

  “That was before we knew we were going to a very public place. I love pottery.”

  “And when did you discover this?”

  “About three seconds after we pulled into the parking lot.”

  His laughter made Lacey smile. How Jude had managed to chase four previous home-care aides away, she didn’t know. He was funny and smart and not nearly as demanding as some of the other clients Lacey had worked with.

  “So you’re going to look at pottery while I question Mrs. Bradshaw?”

  “Among other things.”

  “What other things?”

  “Maybe I’ll talk to some of the people that shop there. See if they’ve been in before. If they have, they might be able to tell me a little about your suspect.”

  “Hold on a minute, Nancy Drew.” He stopped and turned to face her. “I don’t want you asking anybody any questions. This is a small town and people talk. If Morgan is a murderess, that’s fine. If she’s just someone trying to start a new life for herself, it isn’t. If people around town start wondering about her past or why she’s here, who knows what kind of stories they’ll spread.”

  “All right. So I’ll just look at pottery.” And listen in on Jude’s conversation with Morgan Bradshaw. She wasn’t Nancy Drew, but Lacey was a good judge of character. She’d had to be. There’d been too many people in her life who had pretended to be one thing when they were really something else.

  “Just look at pottery, huh?”

  “Sure.”

  “Fine. You can come with me as long as you keep quiet. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “That was almost too easy.” He smiled and took her hand, his grip firm and strong as he led her to the shop. It wasn’t the first time she’d held hands with a client, but for some reason, holding hands with Jude felt different. She felt different. Her heart beat just a little too fast, her hand tingled where it touched Jude’s. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she was attracted to the man. She did know better. To prove it, she pulled her hand from his and hurried up the steps. The gallery door was double-wide and stained deep mahogany. Lacey pushed it open and stepped into a brightly lit room.

  The outside of Clay Treasures might have been plain, but the inside was beautiful. Pedestals and shelves housed dozens of pottery designs. Teapots and vases, bowls and cups and some abstract forms that swooped and swirled and wrapped around themselves. The figures were strange and intriguing, something that Lacey imagined she might put on a table in the foyer of a house. If she ever owned a house that had a big enough foyer for a table.

  “Can I help you?” A young woman walked toward Lacey, a smile easing the sharp angles of her too-thin face. Almond-shaped eyes tilted up at the corners, their cornflower-blue contrasting sharply with the woman’s tan skin.

  “We’re looking for Morgan Bradshaw.” Jude walked into the shop and joined Lacey, his hand resting on her shoulder as he glanced around the room.

  “I’m Morgan. What can I do for you?”

  “You’re Morgan?” Jude sounded as surprised as Lacey felt. Though why she was surprised, Lacey didn’t know. She really hadn’t thought about what the woman would look like. Nor had she bothered to envision the face of a killer. Somehow, though, Morgan’s delicate elfin features and tip-tilted eyes made her seem much too delicate to be a criminal.

  “Yes. And you’re Detective Sinclair. I remember you from my husband’s trial.” She didn’t ask why he was there, and Lacey wondered if she already knew.

  “Funny, but I don’t remember seeing you there. The Mrs. Bradshaw I remember was about two hundred pounds heavier than you, with red hair and brown eyes.”

  “That was Toby’s sister, Anna. She came in for the trial.”

  “She spent most of the time crying into a tissue.”

  “She was sure he was innocent.”

  “Were you?”

  She shrugged, turning away from Jude and not answering his question as she straightened a few vases that sat on a table.

  “Is this your place?”

  At Jude’s next question, she turned back to face him, and Lacey could see the unease in her eyes. She didn’t look guilty of anything, but she did look scared. “Yes. I’ve always wanted my own place. This seemed like the perfect time to give it a shot.”

  “Is it a perfect time because your husband is in jail?”

  “He’s my ex-husband, Detective. The divorce was finalized two months ago.”

  “Around the same time you moved here.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t come here to exchange idle chitchat, so why are you here?” She sidestepped the issue.

  “I’m just wondering why a woman from New York City came all the way to Lakeview, Virginia, to open a shop.”

  “Cheap rent.” She smiled and waved as an older woman walked into the shop. “I’ve got those bowls all set for you, Mrs. Smithfield. I’ll wrap them up in just a moment.”

  “No hurry, my dear. I want to take a look around. My daughter’s birthday is next week. I may pick something out for her.” The elderly woman wandered farther into the shop, and Morgan turned her attention back to Jude.

  “Look, I don’t want to be rude, but I’ve got a business to run. Unless you’ve got something specific you’re here for, I really don’t have time for chitchat.”

  “Like I said, I was curious.”

  “You know what they say about curiosity, Detective.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Why would I threaten you?” She looked surprised, her dark brows pulling together, and Lacey felt sorry for her. Jude had an agenda. The poor woman just hadn’t realized it yet.

  “Because I put your husband in jail.”

  “Ex-husband. And he put himself in jail.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, but I still think it odd that you’re here in the town I spent a lot of my childhood in. A town where some of my family lives.” Jude smiled, but it looked more feral than friendly.

  Morgan must have noticed, because she stiffened, her face going pale. “I don’t know what your game is, Detective—”

  “No game. I just want to know how you ended up so close to my family.”

  “You want the truth?”

  “It would be a pleasant change.”

  “Jude—” Lacey tried to intervene, but neither Jude nor Morgan paid her any attention.

  “I heard you talking before court started one day. You mentioned Smith Mountain Lake and said you were heading down here for some fishing as soon the trial was over.”

  “So you decided to move here?”

  “The name stuck in my head.” She shrugged, moved to the checkout counter at the back of the shop and started wrapping a cobalt-blue bowl. “After Toby went to jail, I needed to find a place where I could put the past behind me. I did some Internet searches, looking for a small town to settle in, but I couldn’t find what I was looking for. One day, I just typed in Smith Mountain Lake. I fell in love with the pictures and came for a visit the next day.”

  “And the rest is history?”

  “Something like that.” She wrapped another bowl.

  “I see.”

  “I don’t think you do, Detective. I came here to escape my past. If I’d had any idea that I might run into you, I would have stayed far away. I knew you fished at the lake, but that’s far enough from my shop that I didn’t have any worries we’d see each other. Now that we have, I can’t say it’s changed anything. I like it here. I plan to stay.”

  “I’m not asking you to leave, Mrs. Bra—”

  “Actually, it’s Morgan Alexandria now.”

  “Ms. Alexandria, then. I’m not here to cause trouble. I just wanted the truth about why you were here.”

  “Now you have it. Feel free to leave.”

  “And miss taking a look at what your shop has to offer? My mother’s birthday is coming up.
Maybe I’ll buy her a vase or a teapot.” He smiled the same quick curve of the lips that always seemed to steal Lacey’s breath.

  Did he practice it in front of the mirror?

  She wanted to believe Jude was vain and manipulative enough to do just that, but she knew the truth. Jude’s rugged good looks weren’t something he worked on. Too bad. If they had been, he would have been a lot less likeable.

  “You’re welcome to look around, Detective. But I’m not answering any more questions.” Morgan turned away, apparently not nearly as affected by Jude’s smile as Lacey was.

  “I guess that’s that.” Lacey took a step toward the door, but Jude didn’t follow. She turned, frowning and gesturing toward the door, hoping he’d get the hint.

  If he did, he ignored it.

  Instead of walking outside, he moved into the middle of the room, his gaze searching the pottery display as if he could find more answers hidden amidst the art pieces. At the back of the gallery, Morgan wrapped two more blue bowls and shot an angry look in Jude’s direction.

  Obviously, she wanted Jude to leave as much as Lacey did.

  “You know she’s not going to tell you any more, right?” Lacey whispered the question, and Jude nodded.

  “I think I’ll just take a look around. And my mother’s birthday really is coming up.” He walked to the counter where Morgan worked, smiling warmly at the elderly woman who held a narrow yellow vase. “That’s a beautiful vase, ma’am.”

  “Isn’t it? And those bowls!” She sighed deeply. “Aren’t they beautiful? I’m just tickled pink that Morgan was able to make them for me. She had a set of pale-green bowls, but I truly needed to have blue bowls to go with the blue walls in my dining room. I’m one of Morgan’s troublesome customers. Aren’t I, dear?”

  “Not at all, Mrs. Smithfield. I was happy to make a new set of bowls for you.”

  “You’re too kind, but we both know the truth. That’s the second set of blue bowls Morgan has created for me. The first set wasn’t as true of a blue. It had just a touch of green in it, and I just couldn’t have that, not when everything in my dining room is blue.”

  “Of course you couldn’t, ma’am.” Jude sounded amused, but Lacey was sure he was filing away every bit of the conversation. Later he’d take it out and go over it, try to figure out if he’d missed something important.

  Lacey, on the other hand, was trying to think of a graceful way to get him moving. The sooner they left Morgan’s shop, the happier she’d be. She and Jude might not be in any danger, but Lacey was afraid the detective and the shop owner might not stay civil for much longer.

  “Jude, did you want to take a look at those teapots for your mom?”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh, the teakettles. They are lovely, aren’t they? I’m particularly fond of the red-and-orange one with the rooster head on the handle.” Mrs. Smithfield nearly gushed with enthusiasm, and Lacey smiled.

  “It’s interesting.” But not something Lacey would ever buy.

  “Truly. Unfortunately, it isn’t one of Morgan’s, and I’m only buying her work.”

  “There’s no reason why you can’t buy the rooster pot. I know Paige would be happy to hear that you’ve purchased it,” Morgan cut in, her gaze still on Jude. If looks could kill, Lacey was sure he’d be dead by now.

  “No. I just couldn’t. However, perhaps this young man and his wife would like to buy it. You’re newlyweds, right? All newlyweds need something frivolous and fun. Like that teapot.”

  Newlyweds?

  Lacey and Jude?

  She would have laughed at the idea if she hadn’t been so busy turning three shades of red. “We’re not—”

  “We’re picking out something for my mother’s birthday.” Jude stepped in, smoothly turning the conversation in a new direction.

  “She’s a lucky woman, then, to have a son that is willing to shop in a boutique for her birthday gift rather than in a supermarket. My own sons are content to buy me toasters and oven mitts every year. Not that I’m not grateful, but this…” She waved her hand toward the gallery. “If they shopped here, I’d be thrilled.”

  “Here you go, Mrs. Smithfield. You’re all wrapped up and ready to go.” Morgan nudged a large, double-handled paper bag toward the older woman.

  “Thank you, dear.” She lifted it, frowning a little as she took a step away. “I think I must have bought too many pieces. This is much heavier than I expected.”

  “Why don’t I take it for you?” Jude lifted the bag from her hands, and Lacey wondered if he was doing it because he wanted to get information out of the woman, or because he was a gentleman. She had a feeling it was a little of both.

  “Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that—”

  “You’re not asking. I’m volunteering. It’ll only take a few minutes of my time.”

  “Well, if you’re sure…”

  “I’m sure. You’re parked in the parking lot?”

  “Yes. The Crown Victoria. Goodbye, Morgan. I’ll see you in a week or so.”

  “See you then.” Morgan smiled at the older woman. “Goodbye, Detective.”

  “I’m not leaving yet. I still have to pick a gift for my mother. Do you mind waiting here and taking a look around for me, Lacey?”

  She did, but she couldn’t say it. Not in front of Morgan or Mrs. Smithfield. “Not at all.”

  “Thanks.” He moved toward the exit with only a slight limp, his voice a quiet rumble as he opened the door for the older woman and ushered her outside.

  Which left Lacey alone with Morgan.

  Obviously, Jude had a reason for leaving her there. Too bad she didn’t know what it was.

  She took a deep breath and did the only thing she could—asked to see a blue-and-gray teapot that was sitting on a shelf behind Morgan.

  Lord willing, Jude would be back long before Lacey had to admit that she knew nothing about pottery and nearly nothing about shopping for gifts for someone’s mother.

  NINE

  Jude knew walking Mrs. Smithfield to her car would take longer than a few minutes. He’d known plenty of women like her when he’d lived in Lynchburg, and not one of them passed up a chance at a long conversation. Mrs. Smithfield was the kind of woman who was both sweet-natured and strongly opinionated. Older, set in her ways, but with a soft spot for the underdogs in life. And Morgan did seem to be that.

  Which, Jude had to admit, was a disappointment.

  He’d been picturing the large red-haired woman he’d seen at Toby Bradshaw’s trial and had almost convinced himself she was the murderer. When he’d seen Morgan, he’d been surprised. It was a feeling he didn’t like.

  What he liked even less was the instinct telling him that Morgan had nothing to do with the hit-and-run that had almost killed him. He’d wanted to believe she was guilty. That would have made his life a lot easier, but he’d sensed the truth in her words and had known she was a dead-end lead.

  He’d keep digging, just in case. Ask Mrs. Smithfield a few questions. Get some facts to go with his gut instinct, but at the end of the day, he’d end up right back where he’d started. Nowhere. He had to try anyway. Mrs. Smithfield was loyal enough to Morgan that she wouldn’t spread rumors. Hopefully she’d be willing to talk about the gallery owner if what she had to say didn’t seem harmful.

  “Morgan has a beautiful gallery.”

  As he’d hoped, his companion was quick to nod her agreement. “Yes, doesn’t she? This place was quite a wreck when she moved in, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Nearly crumbling. The foundation had to be reinforced, termites had to be eradicated. Not to mention the mice and roaches.” She shuddered delicately, her white curls shaking in response.

  “I guess it cost a good amount of money to have all that work done.”

  “I suppose so, though I’m much too polite to ask.” Her faded brown eyes flashed with disapproval as she opened the back door of a red Crown Victoria.

  “Of course you are.”
He should have known he was heading in the wrong direction with his questions. Too much time away from his job. His interrogation skills were rusty.

  “I do know it cost a lot in time, though. Morgan arrived in town two months before the shop opened.” She took the bag of pottery from his hands and set it on the car floor.

  “She’s been in Lakeview for four months?” That would put her move at just a few weeks after her husband’s conviction, long before the hit-and-run.

  “Thereabouts. She rented a room above my garage until this place was ready. That’s how we met. She called asking about my ad. Such a sweet young lady, and she seemed so downtrodden and sad.”

  “She’s had a tough time.”

  “Yes, she has. That no-good husband of hers…” She smiled and shook her head. “But I’m saying more than I have a right to. I’m sure if you know Morgan, you know what she’s been through.”

  “Some of it.”

  “Well, what you don’t know, you’ll have to find out from her. Thank you again for walking me to the car.”

  “It was no problem.”

  “Now, go back in there and buy something pretty for your wife.”

  “My mother.”

  “Her, too, but, really, it was obvious your wife loved the gallery. I’m sure buying her something would put you in her good graces for a long time to come.”

  “Lacey isn’t—”

  “It has to be something beautiful. Maybe a gorgeous vase that can be filled with flowers. My husband used to buy me flowers every Monday. I’d put them in a vase, set them on the kitchen table and look at them every time the kids got too out of hand or the endless chores seemed too monotonous to bear. I would be reminded of the first time I looked into my husband’s eyes, how I was so sure I could see forever. It made all the monotony and chores and endless scraping and saving just to make ends meet worthwhile.”

  Surprised, Jude studied Mrs. Smithfield’s face. It was lined with age and with laughter and held the kind of beauty that was gained by a life lived well. “My father used to say that.”

  “What?” She smiled vaguely, her focus still on the past and all its memories.