by Kate Young
“Rule out suspects like your friend, Harper?”
“Yes. Her dress was spotless.” I raised my hand. “And before you say she might have changed clothes, it would have drawn attention if she’d shown up in one gown only to leave in another. Women notice other women’s dresses.” I didn’t want to continue to think about my mother. Still her plea kept circling in my mind. Then a thought occurred to me. “Don’t you find it odd that before I arrived, no one else noticed anything?”
“I do.” He nodded, and I leaned forward.
“He was sick—he vomited. Perhaps he went through the library to pop outside to get some air and—”
“And?” the detective prompted.
I shrugged. “And maybe there’s more to this than meets the eye.”
Mr. Greene cleared his throat from the doorway, and my face flushed.
“Why would you say that?”
I glanced back at my father’s lawyer, who sighed. He did not look happy with me. “You may continue, Detective. Nothing she said while I was out of the room is admissible.”
The detective turned the recording app back on and asked me the question again.
“I don’t know.” I sat back against the chair. “His shoe was off. It was the shoe that gave me the sense of foreboding first. It’s weird. That’s all.”
“Interesting observations. That’s why you sent your grandmother after Chief Daniels?” This time his tone was gentler. And I felt as if he were laying a trap.
“Yes.”
“Your mother said Harper spent a lot of the evening with her.”
I shook my head and said with all honesty, “I wouldn’t know about that. It makes sense. Harper’s what you would categorize as an introverted personality. Mother would have wanted her to feel welcome and comfortable here.”
“Meaning she keeps to herself?”
“Yes, mostly. I mean, she participated a little more each time during our book club meetings, but nothing personal ever.” I coughed and took another sip of water. “Excuse me.” I placed the glass back on the table. “She isn’t the type to discuss her troubles. At least not with me.” I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t delve deeper into that particular line of questioning. I did not want to lie to this man. Did not. Nothing good ever came from lying to law enforcement. But I also wanted to keep my promise to my mother—now more than ever—though I wished I’d pressed her for more answers. Her request spoke volumes regarding her connection to this case, or maybe she just pitied Harper. Still, I didn’t want her to compromise herself or an investigation out of some misguided loyalty. And I had no idea how I was going to deal with any of this. Yet.
“What’s your line of work?” The detective leaned forward, and I got the distinct impression he leaned in for the kill.
I crossed my legs as my stomach did a flip-flop. “I work for Cousins Investigative Services.”
The detective scrutinized me with his intense dark gaze. “That’s the private investigation firm owned by Calvin Cousins?”
Did he think I would cover up a crime? Or perhaps was guilty? “Yes.”
“You’re working with GBI Jones on the Interstate Eighty-five cold cases?” He’d done his homework on me—and fast for this time of night.
I folded my hands on the table, mimicking his posture. “Our office does work with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation on cases here and there. When we can.”
“That would mean that you’re familiar with police procedures.” He sat back against the chair, looking so relaxed.
Uh-oh. I met his gaze, lifting my chin and then leaned back. “Some. Surely you aren’t implying that—”
Mr. Greene covered my hands with his and squeezed. “Okay, detective. I believe that’s enough for tonight. If you need to speak to my clients again, you know where to reach me.”
The detective rose. “You do know not to leave the state, correct?”
He’s just trying to rattle me. To see if I’m hiding anything. Lord, help me. I am hiding something. I pushed up from the table, standing. “I have no intention of going anywhere. Goodnight, Detective.”
Chapter Six
When I crawled into bed in the wee hours of the morning, my mind whirled with thoughts. I reached over and unplugged my cell from the charger and called Brad. It went straight to voicemail. “Hey, it’s just me. Um, something happened tonight.” I told his voicemail the condensed version of what had transpired. I figured I’d get more detailed when we spoke next. We had out date night scheduled at Amelia’s, and I could fill him in beforehand. When I disconnected the call, I felt better. I lay there, staring at my ceiling and beginning to second-guess myself. Had I really seen the candlestick? When I’d asked Mother before leaving the house, she said she didn’t recall it ever being in the room. And Gran said she never notices such things. How could I be the only one to have seen it? I tossed and turned and tried some deep breathing exercises. I needed to get a few hours of sleep. I closed my eyes and waited.
* * *
Late Saturday, I woke to my phone ringing. Melanie was calling to announce she was outside my front door, because I’d neglected to hear her pounding. She stomped over from her identical fifteen-hundred-square-foot, two-story, cookie-cutter, white-washed brick townhouse that had the same open floor plan: a living room, a kitchen, and a dining room on the main floor, and a bedroom and bath on the second floor. It wasn’t my dream home or anything, but it was comfortable and close to work.
“Why are you beating my door down?” I asked as I swung the door open. “I thought you had my spare key.”
“Not since you had your locks changed.” She waltzed past me. “I spoke to Harper this morning. She told me she asked you to come by.”
I yawned as my current predicament came whirling back to my mind—the events of yesterday and then Harper calling me at seven this morning, asking me to come over.
I scrubbed my face with my hands. My eyes felt like there was sandpaper under my lids. “Sorry. Yes, Harper called and asked me to come by and have a chat.”
Melanie slung her purse onto one of my bar stools. “She said the police mentioned something about cause of death to her.”
I felt my brow furrow. “Poor thing. Harper didn’t mention that to me. I guess she must have received the call between the time she spoke with me and when she called you.” I tied my robe together. “And it was probably the preliminary report. Nothing official yet. But from the condition of the body, I guess it was cut and dry for the coroner. Did she say if they had any suspects?”
“No.” Mel shook her head. “I can’t even imagine the nightmare she’s living through.” We both sighed and gave a commiserating head shake. “Anyway, before Harper told me about your meeting, I suggested bringing by some food so she wouldn’t have to worry about cooking. She seemed to like the idea and said she wouldn’t mind if we all just came together. I already called Amelia, and she’ll meet us here after her last showing today.”
Since Harper didn’t have any family close by, I could see her wanting friends near, but it did surprise me that she didn’t wish for some privacy during our conversation, because she came off as such a private person. And I’d gotten the impression she had something serious to discuss with me. Maybe she’d decided that the desire to be surrounded by friends outweighed her privacy needs. I could see that.
“Wow, you do look wiped. Your eyes look awful.” Mel’s meticulously groomed brow wrinkled with concern.
“Thanks, Mel.” I patted my puffy eyes.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I shouldn’t have woken you the way I did. I should have considered how tired you were. After I did my shopping, I assumed you were up and ready to go.”
I swatted the air. “It’s fine. I should have been up.” I yawned yet again. “I need a strong cup of coffee before I can go into this again or go anywhere. Is Wyatt coming with you to Amelia’s tonight?”
Mel smiled a little. “Yes. I don’t want to talk too much about it just yet. You kn
ow how superstitious I am, and it might jinx the relationship.”
I laughed. “Okay. You let me know when the planets align just right, and we can chat about it.” I made the universal sign for crazy just to mess with her. Mel was one of a kind.
“Stop!” she scolded, but she laughed along with me. “You said that the detective wanted to go over your statement again. Why?”
I put a pod into my Keurig and hit the button for a strong brew. “I found the body. That’s the way these types of investigations work. And Mel, if you’d seen Leonard.” I shivered. “All I can say is that anyone with eyes could see his death was no accident. And the more I think about it, the more the robbery angle bothers me.” Last night, the indelible image of Mr. Richardson had haunted my dreams. In one frightful nightmare, the man had even sat up and started talking to me. I shivered at the memory while I waited for the coffee to finish brewing.
“So now you think somebody didn’t rob him?”
“No, someone robbed him. But if there was some petty thief in attendance, why wouldn’t he rob other people besides Leonard? Robbing just one guy—I don’t believe it would be worth the risk.”
“Unless it was some drug addict. They lash out like that.”
I cocked my head to the side. “I think someone in such a desperate state, one that would bring the person to attack a man, whether he was an addict or not, would have stood out in that crowd. I mean, I could be wrong, but I’d think the desperation would show in some form. There has to be more to it. Like maybe the robbery simply covered up the real motive.”
Melanie kept shaking her head at the bar. “Crazy. When you first told me, I could tell this rattled you. I mean, it would have rattled me.” She lifted both hands. “And I’m not discounting the fact that the murder took place in your childhood home, but later, I thought it probably affected you even more because of Harper.” Mel tilted her head, considering. “Now, I see this has really got a grip on you for all those reasons plus the mystery of the case.”
I sipped from my mug. Mel knew me well. And even I hadn’t considered all that. “You hit the nail on the head. It does have to do with Harper and that it happened in my childhood home, not to mention the ripple effect it will have in our community.”
Mel shivered. “Well, it goes without saying, I’m here for you. Harper didn’t sound like she’s gotten much sleep either. I don’t think she’s even slept more than a couple hours in total.”
“I’m not sure I’d be able to sleep in her position either.” I turned with my mug in hand. I’d been surprised when I’d received her call earlier today. She’d insisted that I come by, and her tone told me how desperate she felt. In her place, I probably wouldn’t know what to do. What worried me was that she mentioned speaking with my mother before she called me. Originally, after Mother’s insistence that I should keep silent, a move entirely out of character for her, I feared the worst. Now what I feared more was that she might be getting sucked into a situation she didn’t understand. Not that I’d mention any of this to Mel. Yet.
Mel studied me, rubbing her temples. “Hmm. Okay. Now I’m processing this. Just saying, if this was just a robbery, crazier things have happened, but no one else saw anything?”
“Not to my knowledge. And since I’m the one who found the body, it appears not. But I agree; somebody would have had to. The struggle would have drawn attention. The man was just lying there dead when Gran and I showed up. Everyone kept going on about their business. I won’t describe the scene since it’s someone we both knew. No one should have images like that in their head.”
“I appreciate your discretion. But since you believe it’s more than a robbery, you’re worried about Harper.”
I nodded.
Mel’s gaze sharpened. “Okay. Well, I’m going to lay this out here. Harper told me she and her husband argued beforehand. Not at your mom’s, but before they left the house. And he avoided her at the event.”
I nodded again. “Harper mentioned that to me and Gran too.” I raised my brows and added, “Right after.”
Mel scrunched up her face. “The police aren’t going to like that. She’d have to know that, right?”
“Of course, but it would be nearly impossible for her to be involved in the crime directly. The … um, the scene made that fact evident. Not that the police won’t run down other options concerning where she theoretically could be. It’s good that she does seem to be avoiding being seen in public right now. She mentioned taking a leave from work. Though I wonder if she shouldn’t be requesting a consultation with an attorney just to be on the safe side.”
“Mm-hmm.” Mel went to my refrigerator and got a bottle of water. “We should mention that to her. She isn’t popular with his family. You know, the Richardson family.”
“I got that impression too. The aunt and daughter were at the event, and they weren’t rushing to console her.” We both shook our heads. “Poor Harper. I bet she feels so alone. Did she mention asking me to locate her family? She did to my mother.”
“No. But I figured if Harper invited us to all come over together, she would. Or”—she paused and took another sip—“maybe she’s discombobulated by everything.” Melanie shrugged. “She did ask me if the detective spoke to me or anyone else in the club.”
My skin broke out in goose bumps. If Melanie or one of the other club members had mentioned to the police what I’d told them about Harper requesting help locating her family, I’d have some explaining to do. I could say I didn’t think the two situations were related. They wouldn’t buy that, but I could. Or I could say that she was approaching me as a client, and our records were confidential. But no money had changed hands, nor had any documents been signed, so that would not stand up in court. I’d have to come clean, sounding as casual as I could manage. Then there was Amelia; she had her own story about how Harper wasn’t so happy in her marriage. I’d have to speak to my mother. There was no way I could keep my word about withholding information. My reputation was on the line.
I took a deep breath to slow my spinning mind. I needed to take this one step at a time. I’d begun to see this like one of the Jane Doe cases up I-85 and had become obsessed with finding the answers. I’d always been obsessed with true crime cases. So much so that my parents made me see a therapist for a while. Stupid, if you ask me. They make docuseries about criminals for a reason—people are interested. But I won’t deny the fact that my interest had been the reason Quinn and I had ended. I believed that had a lot to do with my mother’s influence since Quinn was in law enforcement, but whatever. I’d moved past that now.
I couldn’t care less about those who found fault with my desire to work in the field. Finding the truth was something I needed to do. And the Jane Doe cases needed someone to care—to restore their stolen identities. But right now, no one had asked for my help. And this was not one of those Jane Doe cases. Still, I had difficulty halting my speculations, perhaps because Harper had requested a visit.
“Yoo-hoo! Earth to Lyla!” Melanie waved her hand in front of my face.
I blinked. “Sorry. I got lost in my thoughts.”
“It’s okay. I get it. I’d be the same if I stumbled on our friend’s husband’s body at my folk’s house and the entire Sweet Mountain social elite was there.” She rolled her eyes and added, “Not that anyone would’ve crossed the threshold of the pathetic excuse my parents had for a place when they had one.”
I put my hand on her shoulder. Some people should not procreate. My sweet best friend had lived the childhood from hell. Both her parents were drunks and self-centered jerks who’d spent every dime they managed to make or steal on themselves. Scum is what they were. Mel had spent most of her time at my house, and Mother had made sure she had what she needed when Children’s Services placed her in her grandmother’s custody. Mel adjusted as well and even began calling her grandmother mom. God only knew where her parents were now. Mel hadn’t heard from them in nearly fifteen years. And I for one believed that was a positive
thing.
Mel gave me a small smile and shook her head, her signal that she wanted to let the topic about her parents drop.
I would respect her wishes. Always. “I think one of Mother’s concerns is that this could potentially make national headlines. I mean, think about it: with the writer snooping around and all, the twisted tale he weaves could be a New York Times bestseller.”
“Hold. The. Phone.” Mel’s eyes widened. “What writer?”
I paused with my mug halfway to my lips and explained what I’d learned about the man. “And it’s not as exciting as it sounds. And I haven’t exactly spoken with him directly, so nothing more to report on that front.” I shoved the idea off for now for fear of how the writer might portray the town—the fallout unimaginable. “What I can tell you is that the detective who is in charge of the case is sharp. And from my interaction with the man, he’ll have no compunctions asking the difficult questions and ruffling a few feathers, including those of our Sweet Mountain’s elite. The nosy writer is the least of their worries.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Get that, will ya? I’ll run upstairs and throw myself together. Won’t be fifteen minutes.”
* * *
We took my car, Amelia and I in the front seat and Mel in the back. We’d already picked up a fried chicken family meal with all the fixings plus dessert at a local Southern food restaurant. While we waited in the drive-through, Amelia had been fascinated with the presence of a writer in town and could hardly contain her giddiness.
Melanie suggested that if indeed he turned out to be more of a friend than a foe—foe in the sense of disparaging our town instead of balancing the gruesome events from the other night with Sweet Mountain’s better qualities—we ask him to come and speak with our book club.