“Sheriff,” I said softly, “my computer’s in the car. Can we please check that it’s locked before we go?”
“Turn around,” he said to the deputy. He sounded as though forming the words was painful.
We pulled back in the lot, the deputy checked the locks on the Beetle and climbed back in behind the wheel.
“Locked.” It was the only word he spoke the entire time.
The sheriff remained silent for the rest of the short drive and I decided it was probably my best option.
We arrived at the station to find a welcoming committee. Wade was there, his hair disheveled and his eyes dark with worry. My mother leaned on Gregory, as though she didn’t have the strength to hold herself up.
Gregory played the part of the strong, supportive alpha-male boyfriend. He kept one arm around my mother’s waist, a gesture of ownership more than protection.
Sue stood next to Wade. Her warring emotions played across her face, and I felt a pang of regret for the position I’d put her in. Her boyfriend had arrested her best friend, and no matter what she did she put one relationship or the other at risk.
It seemed to me that I was the one with the most at risk right this minute, though.
The sheriff walked me through the knot of people in the lobby too quickly for anyone to speak to me. He took me back to what I later learned was called the booking area. They took my fingerprints and a photograph, and I signed about a thousand different forms before the sheriff took me into the same interview room where we had talked before.
Hard to believe it had only been three days.
The sheriff set the recorder on the table without asking my permission. He stared at me, daring me to object. I didn’t.
“Miss Neverall, I am going to talk to you for a few minutes, then you will be released. Your mother has already arranged to post your bond, and Councilman Montgomery has spoken to me—quite eloquently, I might add—about your good character and reverence for the law.
“A reverence I have not seen expressed in your actions.”
He sat forward and rested his thick forearms on the desk. I struggled to sit completely still in the uncomfortable metal chair. I felt like I was sliding forward, slightly off-balance, and I realized they must have changed the chairs before I came in. It wasn’t the same chair as before.
I licked my lips, and caught the bottom one between my teeth. I would not chatter, no matter how nervous he made me.
“Now, you have been read your rights and you acknowledged that you understood them. Is that correct?”
He looked from me to the recorder.
I swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Do you remember what those rights were?”
Gulp. “Yes.”
The sheriff took a deep breath and let it out. He talked in a slow voice, enunciating each word carefully, like he was talking to someone who didn’t speak English well, or a very small child.
“Where did you go today?”
I chose my words carefully. “I went to see an old friend.”
“That friend’s name?”
“Richard Parks.” I would answer his questions, but I wasn’t going to say a single word that wasn’t absolutely necessary. I’d seen enough cop shows to know that was how you got into trouble.
“Exactly where did you see this so-called old friend?”
“In Lucy’s Diner.”
The sheriff tensed. He flexed one hand, making a fist, relaxing the fingers, then squeezing it into a fist again.
“Where is Lucy’s Diner located?”
“Near the corner of Sutter and Mason.”
A corner of the sheriff’s mouth twitched. He had gone past his initial annoyance to resignation. Although he fought the impulse to smile, I could see a flash of amusement.
“In what city, Miss Neverall?”
At least we were back to Miss. That was a good sign. It was my turn not to smile as I answered. “San Francisco, Sheriff.” The temptation to add but you knew that was strong and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying it.
“And that is in California, is it not?”
“Yes.”
The sheriff shook his head and leaned back. His leather chair with its ergonomically correct back support leaned with him, the leather creaking in the silence.
He shook his head. “Georgie, what part of ‘don’t leave town’ didn’t you understand?”
“You never said that.”
“I told you not to plan any long trips. I thought you were smart enough to know what that meant.”
I widened my eyes and tried to look innocent. I forced myself to look at him with a completely straight face. “I was only gone a few hours, Sheriff.”
He wasn’t amused by the answer or by my attempt to defend myself. “Which is exactly why you weren’t picked up at the airport as soon as you landed in San Francisco,” he answered. “You had booked a return flight and we had every reason to believe you would return.
“However, since you seem to need these things spelled out for you, here it is.
“You have been detained on a material witness warrant. You are not to leave the jurisdiction of this office without the permission of the court until this warrant is lifted. We believe you have information relating to the homicide of Blake Weston, and we want you available for questioning in regards to that matter.
“We feel this action is necessary because you chose to leave the state in the middle of this investigation without telling anyone where you were going.
“Is this clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s all for now. We will expect you to be available for more questions at any time.”
He turned off the recorder, and shot me a disgusted look. “That was about the dumbest move I have seen in a long time, Georgie. It looks damned suspicious to me, and I know you.
“Your mom is posting your bond. You should be free to go in a few minutes.”
He gave me a long look. “Do. Not. Leave. Town.”
He pushed his comfortable chair out the door, leaving me to sit in the sloped chair and wrap my arms around myself, trying to warm up, while I waited to be released.
Considering what was waiting for me outside, I probably should have been a little less anxious to leave.
In a few minutes a deputy came in with a stack of papers for me to sign. There was a copy of my original statement—the one I had never come back to sign—as well as several forms related to my detention. There was a bail form I signed, which said I would not leave the jurisdiction of the court without written permission. I had a hunch that was going to be really difficult to come by.
The bail receipt was the one that got me. My mother, the woman who didn’t understand me and who I constantly disappointed, had pledged her house as a guarantee for my release.
When I finally walked out into the lobby my welcoming committee was milling around not knowing what to do with themselves. Mother and Gregory were sitting in a pair of the molded-plastic chairs, their heads close together.
Wade and Sue stood on opposite sides of the small room. From the thunderous expression on Sue’s face, it had not been a pleasant wait.
As soon as I emerged, the race was on to see who could reach me first. Sue and Wade were practically body blocking one another, and in the confusion my mother got to me first.
She threw her arms around me and broke into sobs. I couldn’t remember my mother crying. Ever. Even at my dad’s funeral she had remained in control of her emotions; though with the discoveries she had made in the days following Dad’s death anger was a more likely expression than grief.
I was unnerved by this display. I found myself patting her on the back as she clung to me, reassuring her that everything was all right.
“But you were arrested,” she wailed, a fresh burst of tears running down her face. Her makeup was already a ruin. As she dabbed ineffectively at her eyes she only succeeded in smudging the dark mascara into dark circles under them.
/> I managed to disengage Mother and deliver her into Gregory’s waiting arms. She was still crying softly, but at least the worst of the storm had passed.
Wade and Sue were another story. Wade had wrapped his arm around my shoulders the instant my mother had released her death grip on me. Sue glared at him, and I turned to see a matching expression on his face.
“He could have waited until after dinner,” Wade said. He was clearly continuing an earlier argument. “I would have brought her here myself.”
“Sure. To protect your image.” She moved in close to me, pointedly turning her body so that her back was to Wade. “Georgie, what did you think you were doing?”
“I was going to see an old friend. One that I thought might be able to give me some answers.”
I looked over Sue’s shoulder at Wade, then focused back on my best friend. “If the two of you can stop fighting over me like we were in the fifth grade, we can talk.”
I lowered my voice, hoping Gregory was too preoccupied with my mother’s tears to listen to me. “I think I know what happened. And why.”
I raised my voice, pitching it to carry to my mother and Gregory. “Wade, could you take me to pick up my car, please? I’m really not hungry after all this, and I would just like to go home. I’m sure the dogs are anxious for a walk.”
Sue leaned in close. “They’re fine. I let them out a couple hours ago while we were waiting.” She winked, and I knew she understood that I didn’t want to talk in front of Gregory. Sue shared my opinion of the too-smooth Mr. Whitlock.
“Nonsense,” my mother snapped. She had pulled herself together, and now she marched over and planted herself in front of me. “You’ll come home, where I can take care of you.”
That was more like the mom I knew.
“No, Mom. I have things I have to do at home. I need to be in my own house.” I glanced behind her and caught a fleeting wave of relief pass across Gregory’s face. He didn’t want me in the house any more than I wanted to be there.
Besides, I needed to talk to Wade and Sue about the things I’d learned in San Francisco. And there was no way I could tell them what I knew with Mother around. Or Gregory.
“But you’ve just been arrested, Georgiana. And I posted your bail. I really think you should come home.”
I took a deep breath. Mom was on my side, even though she had a peculiar way of showing it.
“I wasn’t arrested. I haven’t broken any law, and I haven’t been charged with any crime.”
Mom wasn’t budging. “You had to post bail to get out of this dreadful place.” She turned to Gregory, shaking her head. “I can hardly imagine a daughter of mine in a place like this.”
She turned back to me. “And you left town when the sheriff said not to.”
“That’s not exactly what he said. But he’s upset with me, and he wanted to be sure I didn’t do any more traveling without his say-so.”
I looked back at Wade. “Can we blow this pop stand?”
“Georgiana! I want you to come home. After all, I did post your bail. I have a right to know where you are.”
“You’re welcome to stop by anytime to check on me, Mother, and I really do thank you for bailing me out.” I could feel my temper rising and I worked to keep my voice down. “But I want to go home. My home. I have dogs that need to be taken care of, and I have a job to go to in the morning.
“If it’s the money you’re worried about,” there was a trace of bitterness I couldn’t hide, “I’ll come in after my morning appointment and put the title of the ’Vette down in place of your house.”
Mom took a step back. With her shocked expression and the circles of mascara under her eyes, she looked like a surprised raccoon. I managed not to giggle, though a bubble of hysterical laughter threatened to break free.
I fought down my growing panic, burying it beneath my remaining sliver of control. “I’m leaving,” I said, walking toward the door. “I would appreciate a ride to my car, but I can walk if I have to.”
It was a calculated bluff. After getting up before daylight to fly several hundred miles, tromping around San Francisco, and then coming home to the sheriff’s dramatic gesture, I wasn’t sure I could walk across the street.
But I would try if I had to.
Sue came to my rescue. “The SUV’s in the front lot.”
She held the door for me and tapped her remote. The lights flashed. Nothing had looked that good all day.
Wade ran to catch up with us. “I’ll meet you at the house,” he said and hurried past.
From behind us I heard a man’s rapid footsteps. Gregory overtook us as I was climbing in Sue’s SUV.
“Don’t be too angry with her,” he said. “She’s just scared, and she doesn’t handle it well. Sandy was really worried when the sheriff called looking for you.
“And don’t worry about the money. We know you aren’t going to do anything that would hurt her.”
I nodded and climbed into the SUV. “Thanks.”
“You will call her tomorrow, won’t you, Georgie? She could use some reassurance that you really are okay.”
“Yeah. I will.” I didn’t even cross my fingers.
chapter 26
I buckled my seat belt with shaky fingers and leaned back against the headrest. The car held the distinct odor of dog. It was a comforting smell, reminding me of Daisy and Buddha, my two faithful companions.
My eyes closed and I relaxed for the first time all day. Sue was driving and I was safe for a few minutes.
“Georgie?” Sue shook my shoulder.
I jumped.
“Just resting my eyes,” I said. I scrubbed my face with my palms, trying to scrape away the fog that had overtaken me. All I succeeded in doing was rubbing the faint traces of my early-morning makeup job into my eyes and making them water.
We were in Tiny’s gravel parking lot, a couple spaces over from my car.
“You’re in no shape to drive,” Sue said. “We can come back for the Beetle in the morning.”
I pulled my jacket tighter around me, trying to fight off the chill of fatigue that seeped into my bones. “You’re right,” I answered. The fog crept back over me.
I was forgetting something. Something important. “The laptop,” I said as Sue reached to put the SUV in gear.
I patted my pockets until I found the key, climbed down from the SUV, and retrieved the case from the car. I relocked the doors, and gave the fender a pat. It really was safer in Tiny’s lot overnight than it would be with me behind the wheel.
Wade was waiting in front of the house when we pulled up.
Once we were inside and the dogs were outside—the rugs were amazingly still intact—I confronted the two people I was closest to.
“If you two are going to argue,” I said, putting as much force as I could muster behind my words, “then you might as well leave right this minute.
“I’m fine, I am not in any real trouble with the law, and I am not going to have you two making a big deal out of this. There are a lot more important things to talk about.
“Got it?”
Sue looked like she was about to protest, and I gave her my sternest look. She closed her mouth and nodded.
I looked at Wade, waiting for his agreement. He was hesitating.
“Have I got this right?” I asked. “My boyfriend is fighting with my best friend because her boyfriend did his job? Is that about it?”
Wade winced at my blunt description, because it was accurate.
Sue colored a little, muttering, “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Beside the point.” I cut her off. “I broke up with you once”—I looked at Wade—“because I thought I had to choose.”
I looked back to Sue. “And I am not doing it again because of your boyfriend. We all know how well that worked out the first time.”
“Not my boyfriend.”
“Yeah? And why do you blush every time somebody mentions him? And call him Fred while the rest of us call him Sheriff?
He so is your boyfriend.
“But that isn’t what I wanted to talk about. You guys get that, right?”
They both nodded. A bit sullenly, but I really didn’t care, as long as I had their cooperation.
I thought about the microbrew in the refrigerator, but rejected it in favor of hot chocolate. I puttered around the kitchen, while Sue let the dogs in and gave them their treats.
With the cocoa in steaming mugs, I led the way into the living room and pointed to chairs.
“Sit.”
Buddha, ever obedient, plopped his behind down next to my feet and looked at me expectantly. Following commands required a treat in his world.
Sue tried to stifle a giggle, but she failed. Wade grinned and the two of them leaned back in their chairs. We had a truce, thanks to Buddha.
He got his treat.
“I need your help, guys. I think I know who killed Blake, and I think I know why. But I can’t prove it.”
Wade’s brow furrowed with worry.
“I’ll make this quick, I promise,” I said. “Just don’t interrupt.”
I ran down the information I had gathered. Whitlock needed money, and so did Samurai, and it looked like Samurai had the inside track with McComb. What I didn’t know was just how desperate Gregory’s financial situation was.
I looked at Wade, and he shook his head. “We’ve had this talk before, Georgie. I can’t reveal anything about my clients’ finances. You know that.”
I nodded. “So it’s that bad.”
“What? He didn’t say anything.” Sue looked puzzled.
“Exactly. Which is what I expected. See, if it wasn’t bad, he’d have said I was wrong, or I didn’t know anything, or something like that. Instead he said he can’t tell me anything.
“Which tells me I’m right. Gregory Whitlock is in serious financial trouble.”
“But that doesn’t make him a murderer,” Sue protested.
“No, it doesn’t. But it gives him a motive. And who else is there? Besides me, I mean.”
No one had an answer for that.
“There’s something else,” I said. I told them about the rest of my conversation with Richard, about Blake wanting to talk me into coming back to Samurai and about the buyout rumors.
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