“What? Do you think that will be the end of Harper and Jared? If so, I think you’re wrong. They can get through anything. Besides, I never got the feeling Harper and Gloria were all that close.”
“They’re not, but Gloria is still her mother.”
Shawn gently rested his hand on Zander’s shoulder. “They’re going to be fine. I look at them and think anything is possible.”
“Yeah?” Zander arched an amused eyebrow. “What do you see when you look at us?”
“Basically the same thing ... although I do wish you would let me help decorate.”
“Oh, geez.” Zander rolled his eyes. “I told you. It’s best if only I decorate. That way everything will mesh together seamlessly.”
“And I still believe you’re full of crap on that front.”
“I’m not, though.”
“I think you are.”
“Yeah, well ... let’s take this in front of the fire and argue over catalogs,” Zander suggested. “We can have hot chocolate and really get into things. How does that sound?”
“It sounds like a very pleasant evening.” Shawn grinned as he turned back to the scene out the window. Jared and Harper had made it to their house and were busy kissing in the snow before heading inside. “They’re going to be fine,” he repeated ... and he meant it to the core of his soul. “Gloria isn’t a murderer. She’s vain, selfish, and out of touch with reality. She’s not a murderer, though.”
“I know. That doesn’t mean she won’t be arrested. Harper is going to be in an awful spot if that happens.”
“It’s not going to happen.” Shawn was convinced that was true. “Jared will do whatever is necessary to find out what really happened. He won’t just do it for Harper either. He’ll do it because he’s a good cop. Trust me.”
“Yeah.” Zander heaved out a long-suffering sigh. “So ... catalogs and hot chocolate?”
“That sounds like Heaven.”
HARPER WAS WARM AND COMFORTABLE when she woke. Jared was snuggled close at her side, his breathing steady. The drapes were pulled back from the window to show off a clear sky ... and at least six inches of fresh snow on the ground. It was the perfect morning ... until she remembered that they wouldn’t get to spend the day in bed.
“We need a vacation,” Jared murmured as he slid closer to her, his lips brushing the back of her neck. “Where do you want to go?”
Harper wasn’t expecting the question. “We could just hole up here for a weekend. Once this is over, let’s make a plan to stock up on groceries and shut out the rest of the world.”
“I’m always open for that. I was thinking of an actual vacation, though. We’ve only been out of town twice since we hooked up. Once was to go to Harsens Island, which is literally twenty minutes away so it doesn’t count. The other was to an island with a haunted asylum, and that definitely doesn’t count. Oh, and we went morel hunting up north that one weekend, but that doesn’t count because we found a body.”
“Maybe we’re just not good on vacations.”
“Or maybe we need to try an actual one so we can relax.”
Harper pursed her lips as she regarded him. “Like ... where?”
He smiled. “I don’t know. I was thinking someplace where we can hammock all day and have fruity drinks with umbrellas on the beach at night.”
“So ... tropical?”
“Maybe. I’m open to suggestions.”
“It’s kind of a nice idea,” she admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on a vacation before. Not a real one, I mean.”
“Then we definitely need to make it happen.”
“Yeah.” She trailed her index finger down his cheek. “It can’t be until after ... you know.”
“I know.” He kissed her finger and grinned. “I think as soon as we can arrange something — like the second your mother is in the clear — that we should do it.”
“I think that sounds like a fabulous plan.”
“Good.” He drew her close and spent a moment holding her simply for the pleasure of doing it. Then, on a sigh, he pulled back. “I was thinking that we could dig your car out at Zander’s, move it over here, and then you could come with me ... at least for the morning. I’ll buy you breakfast at the diner before we start. If you’re interested, I mean.”
“I’m always interested in breakfast. What do you have in mind for our morning, though?”
He cast her an evil grin, which made her frown.
“Don’t be gross,” she warned. “We have to be respectable members of the workforce today and you know it.”
“You’re such a spoilsport.” He tickled her ribs. “Do you want to go to work with me for a bit or not?”
“Sure. Although ... what did you have in mind?”
“I have to search Carl’s house. I need to find that will. I thought you might be helpful, especially if his ghost is hanging around.”
Harper made a face. “I hate him. I don’t ever want to see him again.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s how everybody felt. We have to find that will, though. It might have answers.”
“Ugh.” Harper let loose a dramatic sigh. “Fine. We’ll head over to Carl’s house. If he’s gross, though, I’m going to zap him over to the other side. I’m not even going to tell you before I do it. I’m just going to whip out a dreamcatcher and that will be it.”
“Fair enough.”
“You’re not going to give me grief about zapping him when we might still need him?” She was instantly suspicious.
“I have faith you’ll do the right thing. You always do.”
“Oh, that was schmaltzy.”
“I do my best.”
“You’re a master at it.”
“I’m fine with that.”
CARL’S HOUSE WAS A MESS when Harper and Jared walked through the front door. Papers were strewn up and down the hallway and couch cushions were shredded, the stuffing torn out. Jared immediately held up his hand to halt Harper when he caught sight of the chaos.
“Son of a ... .” He looked around, his eyes wide. “I can’t believe this.”
“What are we going to do?” Harper’s nerves were on full display as she glanced around the house. “Do you think whoever did this is still here?”
“I doubt it.” Jared kept her behind him all the same. “Call Mel. Tell him what’s going on.”
Harper didn’t offer up a word of argument, instead digging in her pocket until she came back with her phone. She immediately called Mel, who picked up on the second ring, and explained what happened. Jared remained vigilant until she’d hung up the phone.
“What did he say?”
“He’s on his way. He needs to get out of his driveway first, though. It might be a few minutes.”
“Okay.” Jared was grim as his eyes darted from one side of the foyer to the other. “I think you should go outside, lock yourself in my truck, and wait there until Mel shows up. I’m going to search the house.”
Harper was having none of that. “I’m staying with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Oh, but I am.”
“Harper!”
“Jared!” She mimicked his voice to perfection. “I’m not leaving you so don’t even try. We’re doing this together.”
“Oh, geez. You are so much work.”
“Right back at you.”
Jared drew his weapon from the holster at his hip and sent her a hard look. “You stay behind me. If I tell you to run ... .”
“Then I’ll run,” she finished.
He bobbed his head in agreement.
“As long as you’re right behind me,” she added.
The gaze he shot her was withering but there was nothing he could do. His first priority was to make sure the house was clear. That meant searching every inch. “Just ... be really careful,” he growled.
The search was methodical, and completely fruitless. It only took them fifteen minutes to search the structure from top to bottom — there were only s
o many places a grown human being could hide, after all — and Mel was coming through the front door when they finished.
“What do you have?” he asked, his eyebrows migrating north when he saw the mess in the living room. “What the ... ?”
“The house is empty,” Jared replied, his gun holstered again. “We went through every room. Whoever did this is gone.”
“Well, it would’ve been stupid for him or her to stay once the sun rose,” Mel noted, glancing around. “I’m guessing that our perp came in during the middle of the night, looked around, and then left. Did you see any footprints walking away from the house?”
Jared shook his head. “I didn’t. I wasn’t really looking when we walked up, but they would’ve stood out regardless thanks to the new snow we got.”
“Right. Which means that whoever broke in here did it and then left long before you guys arrived.”
“Yeah.” Jared shifted his eyes between the living room and foyer. “I’m guessing that someone was looking for the new will.”
Mel was officially intrigued. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, for starters, that’s what we’ve zeroed in on as a motive for Carl’s death — at least right now — and whoever did this was obviously searching for something.”
“Maybe he had diamonds hidden here or something,” Mel argued. “Someone could’ve known that.”
“Then why not search the house after killing him? There was time. Why not search the house yesterday ... or the day before? Our guy did it after we started asking questions about the will. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”
“How would this person know, though?” Harper asked. “I mean ... how could anyone know what you were investigating?”
“Actually, I’m betting news got out quickly that we were at Elliot’s office yesterday,” Jared pointed out. “If it’s one thing we’ve learned since starting this one, it’s that lawyers are a gossipy bunch. They talk to each other, about each other, and over each other.
“Elliot was very forthcoming with us when we were talking,” he continued. “He said that absolutely no one liked Carl. They made fun of his dating choices, whispered about the way he screwed over Fran, and were basically in awe that he could constantly win the way he did. That means that everyone was gossiping about him on a regular basis, whether for good or bad reasons.”
“I guess.” Harper moved to a sheet of paper on the floor and bent over to pick it up. “This is paperwork from his house insurance packet.”
“I’m guessing that whoever was going through his files simply tossed everything when he or she didn’t find what they were looking for.”
“I get that but ... isn’t Carl’s office that way?” She pointed toward the hallway. “I seem to remember that from the search.”
“It is,” Jared confirmed.
“So ... why is the paperwork here?” She looked to the stairwell. “There are three rooms upstairs, right? Carl turned the master bedroom into his office.”
Jared caught up to her train of thought. “Why would the papers end up over here if the search was conducted back there?” He pointed and circled. “If the office was upstairs, then it might make sense for some of the papers to end up down here because they could’ve fluttered over the railing or something. These papers were tossed from that direction.”
“How do you know that?” Mel asked, staring toward the living room, which was the direction Jared indicated.
“Because they fluttered this way.” Jared strode into the living room and gave it a good once-over. “Here.” He moved to the desk and pulled open the top door. “Yeah. This desk is empty. I always assumed the desk was just for looks, but I’m guessing Carl kept things in here.”
“Someone jimmied the lock,” Mel noted as he dropped to his knees and studied the antique desk. “There are fresh scratch marks here. I think someone used a tool — probably a butter knife or maybe a small switchblade — to open the desk. The papers were strewn because they weren’t important to our perp.”
“You need to stop saying ‘perp,’” Harper instructed. “It makes you sound like a sad Miami Vice reject. I mean, seriously, who says that word?”
“I do and I happen to like it.” Mel flicked her between the eyebrows as he planted his hands on his hips. “So, do we think our suspect found the papers he was looking for?”
There was the question, Jared realized. “If so, we might be looking at an even worse problem.”
“And what would that be?”
“Well, we’re assuming that whoever broke in here did so because they wanted the new will. The theory is that whoever killed Carl didn’t want the old will changed. There were basically only two beneficiaries in the old will ... and that makes me nervous.”
“Agatha and Junior,” Mel intoned. “You think it’s one of them.”
“You met Agatha. She’s not strong enough to kill Carl. She’s weak.”
“Maybe she really did hire someone,” Mel suggested. “She’s a feisty old bird. She might’ve been so open to hating her son in front of us because she figured we would never pin this on her.”
“She still would’ve needed money to hire a hitman,” Jared argued. “She acted as if she didn’t realize she was included in the first will.”
“That’s true.” Mel was rueful. “I’m not saying that I believe she’s guilty or anything. I just don’t think we should rule her out until we know more.”
“Fair enough. That leaves Junior. Do you think it’s him?”
“I really don’t want it to be him,” Mel admitted. “He grew up to be a strong young man despite having the worst father ever. I would like to believe he’s somehow transcended what happened to him.”
“He was the one getting the lion’s share of the money from that first will,” Jared pointed out. “That might be enough to kill for, especially to a guy like Junior who has never even had two nickels to rub together thanks to his greedy father.”
“Yeah, well ... I don’t know what to think.” Mel was at a loss. “We also can’t rule out Fran in all of this. If she knew her son was inheriting that money, that might’ve been enough to tip the scales. She might not have cared enough to kill Carl for her own needs, but I have no doubt she would do what it takes to protect her son. The question is: Would she go this far?”
“I don’t want to believe it’s her,” Jared admitted. “I don’t want to believe it’s Junior either, though.”
“What about Agatha?”
Jared pictured the tiny, brutally honest woman. “I don’t know that I can see her doing it either. They’re our three best suspects, though. You’re right. If it was a client, why break into the house and tear things apart like this? There’s no benefit after the fact.”
“That’s why we have to drill down.” Mel was resigned. “I think it’s one of the three. We just need to be absolutely sure which one because this is going to ruin a lot of lives.”
“I hate this,” Jared muttered.
“That makes two of us.”
Seventeen
Zander showed up at the house not long after. He didn’t bother knocking — or even calling out — before striding through the front door. He made a face when he saw the mess.
“This is what I believe the inside of my brain looks like every month when I have to balance the books,” he announced.
Jared shot him a dark look. “You can’t just walk into a crime scene, Zander.”
“Sure I can. The door was open.”
“Yeah, but ... .” He looked to Mel for help but the older detective clearly wasn’t interested in being dragged into the conversation.
“Why are you here?” Harper asked. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor going through some of the discarded documents. So far, she’d come up empty. All she’d managed to accomplish was disliking Carl more (if that was even possible) because he came across as a pretentious douche even in his correspondence, which she considered something of a miraculous feat.
“We hav
e a job,” Zander replied, wrinkling his nose as he delicately stepped over some of the couch stuffing and moved closer to his friend. “Since we usually don’t get jobs this time of year, I thought you would want to jump on it.”
“Who?”
“Eleanor Pickens.”
Harper stilled, surprised. “You’ve got to be kidding. The same Eleanor Pickens we gave an estimate to in early December and she decided that she didn’t really have a ghost and was perfectly fine putting up with the weird occurrences in her house?”
“That would be the one.” Zander’s smile was broad. “She’s decided she really does have a ghost after all.”
“I have no problem helping her,” Harper said. “I think we should make her sign a contract before we do it, though. She strikes me as the type to back out when it’s all said and done.”
“I’ve already emailed one over. I told her I wanted it signed and notarized before we would do anything about her little problem. She whined about the notarizing but agreed. She’ll have the contract waiting for us when we arrive. If she doesn’t, we’ll turn around. I’m not playing games with that old bat.”
“You shouldn’t talk about Eleanor that way,” Mel chided. “She’s a nice woman ... who just happens to be a little nutty at times. I didn’t know she had a ghost.”
“She claims it’s Fred,” Harper explained. “It’s not, though.”
“Her husband Fred?” Mel made a face. “He was pretty lazy in life. I can’t imagine him being a real go-getter as a ghost.”
Harper snickered. “I never really thought about that, but you’re right. She’s convinced that he’s haunting her because she was a nag. I tried telling her that’s not how things work, but she won’t listen to me.”
“If it’s not Fred, who is it?”
“It’s her mother-in-law. I caught a glimpse of her when we were there the first time. She’s got a little crazy wafting around her, too.”
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