The Sweetheart Mystery

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  “I haven’t used that computer in probably two years. I use my phone and an android,” Harper said, confused. “And I don’t keep that under the bed. It was in a box in the closet with some books and papers.”

  “See if you can open it up,” Mignon said, ignoring her.

  Noah stepped up. If Harper said the computer was in a box, he smelled something rank. It was the knife in the car situation all over again.

  “Wait a minute. Is that covered in the warrant?” He lifted the warrant and did a more thorough read. There was some legal jargon but he discovered that all electronic devices were covered. “This is fucked up.”

  “And you may be harboring a killer,” Mignon snapped back. “I know you own this house.” He glanced between them. “I think you have blinders on when it comes to her.”

  Noah turned and drew Harper to one side of the living room. He turned his back to Mignon. “We’re getting you a lawyer.”

  Her eyes welled. She blinked back tears. “Noah, I can’t afford a lawyer. Hell, I can’t afford a law student.”

  Reaching out, he lifted her chin. “I know someone good. I’m sure we can work something out.” She wavered. “Be tough. We are not letting Mignon win. You hear me?”

  A firm nod followed. “I hear you.”

  “Detective,” the officer sitting at the kitchen island with her laptop called out. “Come and see what I found.” There was an excited edge to his voice.

  Mignon hurried over. Noah was right behind him. The second officer stepped into his path and held out a hand. “Stay back.”

  Noah did. He’d leave the arguing to when he found out what crap they’d dug up this time.

  The detective leaned in and the pair stared down at the screen. Then they talked together in low voices, before Mignon straightened and faced Harper. “I thought you said you haven’t used the computer in a couple years?”

  “That’s correct.” She was wound up tight.

  Mignon turned the computer around. “Then why do you have a copy of the blueprints for the Rosemont Hotel?”

  Chapter 30

  Harper’s legs gave way. Noah caught her in mid-wobble and eased her onto the arm of the couch. “That’s impossible,” she said in a tight tone and looked into his eyes. “Noah, I swear I don’t use that computer.”

  “I know, baby.”

  No amount of denial swayed the detective. She was on the verge of arrest. What was worse was that there was zero chance she’d have one night of passion and fun with Noah before heading off to jail. She’d missed her chance.

  Would chest tattooed woman remember her? Would they be friends with benefits?

  Damn, she’d lost her mind. “I don’t understand any of this,” she said quietly to Noah. “What is going on?”

  “Evidence is stacking up against you, that’s what,” Mignon said, and toyed with his handcuffs hooked to his belt buckle. “Would you like to confess, Ms. Evans? I’ll read you your rights first, all legal like.”

  “No one is confessing,” Noah snapped.

  “Um, Detective,” the officer at the computer said. He no longer looked like the Cheshire Cat. “You need to see this.”

  Great. What else was in there? Harper braced herself for the second shoe to slam her upside the head. They’d probably get her for illegally downloading cat videos or some such. She had gone through the cute kitty phase.

  The two men huddled again. The officer pointed to the screen and whispered something. Mignon visibly deflated. “Shit.” He tugged a bushy gray brow, then scratched the side of his head.

  “What did you find?” Noah asked.

  Mignon appeared readier to jump in front of a train than answer the question. “There’s a problem.”

  “Tell me what’s happening.” Noah was already angry. He wasn’t about to let this, whatever they’d found, go.

  “The time stamp on the search was yesterday,” the officer said, reluctantly. “At five p.m.”

  “What does that mean?” Harper pressed. Her mind headed in all directions and she couldn’t process a cohesive thought.

  A relieved smiled tugged Noah’s face. “It means that the search for the blueprints was well after the murder.” He gave her a minute to soak that up. “Why would you need blueprints to the hotel when Covington was already dead?”

  Harper was fried, but still had the ability to understand that she wasn’t heading to jail. Not tonight, anyway.

  “Oh, thank goodness.”

  Beneath her PJ’s, her heart started beating normally again. She ran to Noah. He lifted her up and hugged her tight. “You’re going to beat this, HJ,” he said against her hair.

  With him at her side, she had a real chance.

  It took willpower not to say “I told you so” to the detective. She knew he was doing his job, and she had huge respect for law enforcement. Yet, he’d been focused on her from the beginning to the exclusion of others. Perhaps now, he’d give her a break, even a small one. She could use a minute to breathe untainted air.

  Mignon stepped up, not as gruff as before. “Either you’re instigating an elaborate plan to throw us off, or someone is playing games.”

  She believed he’d hoped for the former, but was starting to believe the latter.

  “Are you saying I might not be guilty?” She held his stare. “That’s a concept I’ve been pitching since day one.”

  There was so much more she could say, accusations of his singlemindedness, but she had him slightly tipped to her side and she wasn’t about to make an enemy.

  “There is more you should know,” she said. So she told Noah and the detective about the moved body wash and teapot, the damage to her car, and the phone calls. “Added to the break-in and the computer scam, it all adds up to some sort of conspiracy.”

  “Why didn’t you me tell this?” Noah asked. He had known about the Mustang and the calls. Not the others.

  “I thought I was forgetful,” she said. “I’ve been exhausted and stressed out.”

  Noah returned his attention to the detective. “I don’t know how someone could have gotten into this apartment, but the locks on the motel door could be opened by a kid with a paperclip.”

  Mignon listened intently. “Had you shared this earlier, we could have checked the motel for fingerprints.”

  “Truthfully?” She took a deep breath. “I don’t trust you to look after my best interests. And I didn’t put any of this together until the intruder got ahold of the computer. I know for a fact, it was in the bottom of the box.”

  The detective finished his notes. When he lifted his gaze, the expression in them was flat. “The question remains, why would someone do this to you?”

  Harper was as puzzled as Mignon was.

  “She’s being gaslighted by the killer,” Noah interrupted and rubbed his face. “To keep her off balance.”

  Harper startled. “You mean like in that old movie?” This was a twist she hadn’t considered. Her most excellent investigator had. He was worth every bit of the one hundred dollars she’d paid him.

  Noah nodded. The officers went quiet. “Not only is the killer trying to make you think you’re crazy, he or she is setting you up to take a hard fall.”

  Chapter 31

  Sleep that night had been elusive. After the police left, with the detective assuring her that although she couldn’t be counted out as the killer, they had other avenues to check and he’d get back to her. For the first time in several days, she found hope that she’d not be getting a chest tattoo.

  Noah didn’t mention the failed seduction attempt. Instead, he tucked her into bed, kissed her forehead, and left her to hours of staring at the ceiling.

  So when the bed moved as she was dragging herself out of a slumber, she was puzzled by warm stinky breath on her face.

  Had Noah spent the night? If he had, the man needed to ta
ke advantage of a toothbrush.

  She slowly opened her eyes and yelped.

  A black and white face stared down at her from atop the mattress. Hoofs held down the comforter on either side of her, effectively keeping Harper from freedom as Harriet nipped at her hair.

  “What. In. The. Hell!” Harper yanked her hair out of reach. Harriet said nothing but bleated a happy greeting. “How did you get in here? I don’t remember giving you a key!”

  Yep, she’d passed losing her mind. She’d lost all brain cells. Or maybe she was dreaming?

  Stinky breath disabused her of the notion.

  Harper managed to extricate an arm from under the covers and pointed into the furry goat face. “Get off my bed!”

  Goat legs wobbled.

  “No, no, no, no, NO!” The goat bobbled. “I swear if you go down, I’m calling the goat chops factory for a pick up!”

  Harriet dropped like a rock. Her head landed on Harper’s pillow, barely missing taking out Harper’s left eye with her tiny goat horn.

  The interloper shuddered and went still. “Dammit!”

  Chuckling sounded over her yelling. Standing in the bedroom doorway, arms crossed and looking slightly sleep ruffled, was the bane of her existence looking more delicious than a man had the right to be.

  Yes, some of her restlessness last night had been sexual frustration. She’d never let him know that.

  Now she just wanted to strangle him.

  “Why did you let Harriet in my apartment? Why did you let her on my bed?” She tried to dislodge the goat. The farm critter currently had the corner of the pillowcase in her mouth and was using it for an anchor.

  “As if I could keep her from you,” he said. “She’s kind of attached.”

  “That wasn’t my question. Wait a minute.” Harper pointed at Noah. “How did you get in here? Do you have another key?”

  Now she moved from annoyed to really ticked off. Her personal space had been doubly invaded and only one of them could turn a door handle. “Get this goat off the bed,” she ordered. She had to be upright in order to throttle them both.

  Noah walked over and yanked the pillowcase from the goat. Goat slobber and bits of grass soiled the once pretty pillowcase. He then rolled Harriet over and pulled her off the bed onto her hooves.

  An affectionate head scratch earned a frown from Harper. Clearly man and goat were on the same side.

  Harper kicked free of the covers.

  “In my defense,” he said and brushed goat fur off his shirt. “I was worried when you didn’t answer your phone. It’s almost noon. And I didn’t see her loitering in the bushes until she darted past me and into the house.”

  “As if that’ll excuse either of you!” She crawled off the bed and stood. She stuck out a hand. “Give me the key.”

  Noah dug in his pocket.

  “How many more are there?” Harriet went off to find something to eat. Her hooves clacked toward the kitchen. That would be dealt with later. She had to deal with the intruder with actual cognitive thinking.

  “Six,” he admitted and held out the key. “Maybe eight. Tenants lose a lot of keys.”

  “Great.” She spun and stalked to the bed. Pulling off the comforter and reaching for the sheets, she ordered, “Go make sure Harriet isn’t chewing up the fake houseplants.”

  By the time she stuffed the bed linens into the washer, Noah had corralled Harriet into the yard. She was happily checking out a small dog at the adjoining back fence.

  “You aren’t allowed to keep farm animals in the city,” the neighbor women called out. “It’s against the law.”

  Still stewing, Harper wanted to tell her where to put her ordinances, but Noah took her arm and pulled her away from the open door.

  “She’s a therapy goat,” he called back and waved. “My girlfriend has debilitating PMS issues.”

  The woman didn’t look convinced.

  “I never had any issues before last week,” Harper said from behind him as he closed the door. “When you and goat chops showed up.”

  That wasn’t true; she’d been at a cross roads and stressed out well before Noah and Harriet, and the murder. But she wasn’t ready to let go of her annoyance at finding a goat in her bed, or knowing that Noah had open access to her apartment.

  She stalked to the coffee pot and stepped in something wet. “Crap. Harriet isn’t housebroken.” She lifted her foot. If she didn’t have bad luck, she’d have no luck at all.

  Noah moved before she could get whipped up again. “Give me your socks. I’ll get the paper towels and the cleaning spray. You take care of you.”

  Harper did as asked. She retrieved the liquid dish soap and garden hose out on the porch and disinfected her foot. The whole time she scowled at Harriet who played in the spray.

  “I don’t like you at all.”

  Harriet nudged her leg with her wet head. Harper’s hand may have slipped and landed between stubbly goat horns. She’d deny it with her last breath if caught.

  Turning off the hose, Noah grinned evilly. “I caught you. I think a nice white wine goes well with goat chops.”

  * * * *

  By the time Harper came down from her shower, Noah had found a rope for the goat and made a pot of coffee. He added some vanilla creamer to her cup and sat.

  He’d taken a long conference call about his case earlier so he hadn’t noticed right away that Harper was MIA. When he did reach out, and she’d been radio silent, he’d been worried. The goat had been a surprise but not entirely unexpected. He was sure he knew who was behind the goat visits and it had nothing to do with the case.

  Not directly. As long as there was no harm in the game, Harriet was a distraction for Harper, and deep down, he suspected the reason was not sinister. Despite all the yelling, the goat was starting to grow on her, although she wouldn’t admit it to him or herself.

  Harper flopped down on a kitchen chair and took up the cup. Several sips later, color came to her face. “Do you think Harriet uses some sort of internal GPS to drag herself across fifteen miles just to visit me?”

  Skepticism tinged her face.

  “I don’t.”

  She took another swallow. “Yeah. Me neither. Something is up and when I have time to breathe again, I’ll figure out what.”

  Noah let it go. If he was right, the connection was one she needed. She just didn’t know how much yet.

  “I guess we’ll take her back.” Harper went to get her purse and keys. The trio headed off in the rental car. Before they got too far, she pulled in front of a pet store that was going out of business. Posters on the wall advertised everything was 75 percent off. “I’ll be right back.”

  Harriet sniffed around the back seat and gnawed on the rope. Noah swore she made a happy sound when Harper returned, opened the hatch, and dropped an overstuffed bag inside.

  “Come here, goat chops.”

  Noah turned in the seat to see her rip the tag off a pink bedazzled collar and snap the thing around Harriet’s neck. She followed up with a matching leash.

  When she caught him watching her, she grinned. “Estelle has no reason not to keep her goat controlled now.” She held up the leash. “Do you like the color?”

  “It’s darling.”

  She laughed and her mood lightened.

  The goat rode the distance to the farm, breathing goat breakfast smell down the back of his neck. He’d been convinced he already smelled like barnyard and mown hay, after all the visits out to the place while sitting in goat hair. No amount of showering could convince him he was clean.

  Now he had goat breath on his skin. Sexy.

  Estelle took up her place on the porch with her usual scowl. He sensed she wasn’t completely surprised that they had Harriet, or that the goat had been missing at all.

  Harper parked and pulled Harriet out of the car.
Like a queen walking her prized poodle, she strolled like a catwalk model to the porch and looped the leash over the porch post.

  “You are one strange girl,” Estelle said gruffly as she examined the new collar and leash.

  “And you need to keep your goat contained.” Harper enjoyed herself. “This should help.”

  “I’m not keeping her on that leash. I’ll be the neighborhood laughing stock.”

  “Then you’d better keep her home.” She sent Noah a satisfied glance. “There’s no telling what could happen to her next time she’s out wandering alone.”

  Noah suspected she wasn’t finished with her pranks. Oddly, he sensed that Estelle was amused. Although her lined face showed no emotion, her eyes gave her thoughts away.

  Harper readied to leave.

  “Hold up.” Estelle hobbled down the porch steps and gave Harriet a pat as she passed. “Do you have any news about Gerald’s case? Are there any suspects?”

  Harper seemed surprised by the question. The older woman wasn’t locked on to Harper as the killer any longer. She appeared open to other candidates.

  “We haven’t found the killer if that’s what you’re asking,” Harper said and inhaled the gentle breeze coming over the corn field. Her face went calm. “But we have interviewed several people and are collecting clues.”

  Estelle seemed satisfied with that. “Good.” She gave a curt nod. “Thank you for returning my goat.”

  She went back to Harriet and collected the leash. Harper watched Estelle lead the goat toward the barn and disappear inside the dim interior.

  For the first time, Noah noticed how far from other neighbors the farm was, at least a mile from the next house. Without Gerald’s parents in the country, and an apparent lack of workers around the property, Estelle had to be lonely.

  “Do you think she sees Betty Anne and the kids?” Harper said. Compassion touched her eyes.

  He shrugged. “It’s a long drive.”

  Harper glanced back at the barn. “I’d be cranky, too, if I had only a goat to talk to.”