“Sheriff and Makayla, thank you for meeting me here and not making me come down to the station. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.” Gloria was a slender woman of about five foot four with curious green eyes that had struck me with their beauty the first time I’d seen them on film. Now the same gaze was filled with trepidation.
She looked past us to the entrance as she spoke, and I turned to see what she was looking at. Mr. Jacobs, a man built bigger than Spencer, if you can believe it, was weaving through lunchtime traffic to reach the library. A sense of dread came over me. I had only met Mr. Jacobs a handful of times when he sat for the portraits with his wife and their son, but he had seemed to me to be quite intimidating. I imagined, as an attorney, he had cowed many a witness on the stand without a word.
When Paul Jacobs barrowed through the door and stalked toward us, I began to wonder what were they putting in the water down here in North Carolina that the husbands were so enormous. I had to crane my neck to look up at him as he drew alongside us.
“What do you think you’re pulling, sheriff, talking to my wife without me present?” Paul growled.
To his credit, Spencer was not fazed. “My job.”
Paul raised a finger to stab in Spencer’s direction, but his wife grabbed it. “I’m sorry, sheriff, but he is my attorney, and I wanted to have him present.”
“You’re not being charged with anything.”
“She has every right—”
“I know the dang rights,” Spencer snapped. “I’m conducting an investigation into murder. Is your attitude your way of telling me you won’t cooperate?”
“We have nothing to hide,” the man shot back.
“Good, then you won’t have a problem if Makayla talks to your wife and I talk to you—in private.”
“What?” Paul hadn’t expected this request, but his confusion was replaced quickly by his unmanageable anger. “I already told you the police are not questioning my wife without me there. The next thing you know she’s accused of something she didn’t do. I know how your kind works, and it’s not happening here today!”
The more Paul spoke, the higher his voice rose. He was becoming so irrational I began to wonder where he’d gotten his license to practice law. Surely, this man should have more sense. Other visitors to the library had begun to stop and stare openly. Whispers echoed across the high ceilings, and I didn’t doubt they were all focused on our little group.
I glanced at Gloria, hoping she would put a stop to the tirade, but she stood stiff and frightened, hands balled in her skirt and face pale. She was a far cry from Lissa who had calmly told Hardy Joe to shut up.
Spencer spoke with eerie calm, so much so it startled Paul into silence. “First of all, Makayla is not a police officer, so your wife is free to share whatever she wants to with her.” The emphasis on the word wife and free wasn’t lost on any of us, including Paul. “Now, we can all talk here in the lobby together, or we can go somewhere in private.”
I thought Spencer should have added a third option, that of going down to the station. I had heard him use the threat before, but instinct probably told him that threat would only set Paul off again.
Paul acquiesced. “I’ll talk to you for a few minutes, but for now, only Makayla talks to Gloria.”
I felt special and known. Why did everyone in town know my name and speak it as if we were either old friends or old acquaintances? I suppose I should be flattered, and we did get what we wanted.
So, a bit shaky and unfocused, Gloria led us into a narrow hall I had never noticed before, along a row of doors. She opened one and gestured for Paul and Spencer to go in. The room was little more than a closet with a Formica-topped desk and metal chair. Wow, was this an interrogation room or just a low budget at work, I wondered.
Gloria and I took the next room, a scootch nicer because she had added her personal touch, the main focus being pictures of her little boy and a smattering of his artwork. One of the family photos we had done sat on the desk, and she moved it aside and clutched her hands together.
“Are you okay, Gloria?” I asked when she cut her eyes toward the wall separating us from the men. “I’ve never seen Paul that angry.”
“He has a reason to be. When we heard about the pictures and that I…my…” She put a hand to her mouth, and I worried she would be sick. After a few breaths, she calmed, but tears filled her eyes. “I don’t believe this is happening.”
I leaned across the desk and took her hands. I squeezed, and she hung onto me like a lifeline. “I can’t imagine how terrible you must feel, but I bet you want justice too.”
She nodded sadly.
“Did you know before the sheriff called you?”
“No, I had no idea. Makayla, I’m so embarrassed.”
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart.” I dug in my purse and found tissue for her. “This wasn’t your fault. You did nothing wrong. What we are going to do is fight. We’re going to find out what happened and who killed the doctor, and we’re going to lay this nasty business to rest. Then you’re going to enjoy your family and put it behind you. So, can you help me get that done?”
She sniffed and squared her shoulders a little more, but her bottom lip still wobbled. “I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all I ask.”
Gloria stood up and paced the room. She rubbed her temples, eyes shut, and then opened them to face me. “My husband has been getting lots of calls, women who want to sue Dr. Bloomberg’s estate.”
I winced, imagining the magnitude of such a suit. “Did you ever notice anything unusual in Dr. Bloomberg, the way he treated you or looked at you?”
“No, I never noticed anything. He was always professional and friendly.”
“Friendly?”
“Professional,” she reiterated.
“Did your husband ever come to your appointments with you?”
“Once or twice. I know what you’re thinking, Makayla. Paul could never hurt anyone.”
Why did that sound like Hardy Joe? Both of them looked like they could pop my head like a grape, and I didn’t relish the thought. I scoured my mind for more questions, something that would be a clue to what direction we should go in. “Do you think—”
“We’re done here,” came a shout that echoed through the wall. Both Gloria and I rushed for the door. I made it there first and wrenched it open. The door where Spencer and Paul were banged the wall. Paul radiated rage, and Spencer was just rising to his feet with infuriating calm.
His gaze slid to Gloria and back to Paul. “Does your wife know about your past and why you came to Briney Creek?”
Crack!
Spencer crashed into the chair he had just vacated, knocking it over. Gloria screamed and grabbed her husband’s arm. So heavy and muscular when he had balled his fist, there was no way she could stop him if he tried to hit Spencer again. Too late, though. He already had, and that was assaulting an officer. The sheriff didn’t appear to be in a forgiving mood, but then again, Paul didn’t look sorry.
“Paul Jacobs, you’re under arrest.”
Chapter Eleven
“Who had the donuts?” the waiter shouted and stood on a chair to be heard above the buzz. “Hey! Who had the donuts?”
I snapped out of my deep thoughts and raised my hand sheepishly. “Sorry, that’s me. Over here.”
He hopped down from the chair and weaved through the bodies and chairs with piles of coats on them to get to me. My belly growled with my first inhale of vanilla and cinnamon. The saucer had scarcely touched the wooden surface of the table before I scooped up a treat with a muttered thanks. Soft, chewy dough with just the right amount of sweetness, I was in heaven. After I had downed my Precious and stole a lick of my thumb, I scanned the restaurant’s interior. Edna’s group, a few other interested citizens, and I had descended upon the establishment and basically took over.
With a light snow falling outside that would never stick and a sharp chill in the air, calls had been made
all around town inviting folks to get together to try to solve the case of Dr. Bloomberg’s murder. Of course, I saw this gathering as an excuse for us all to visit with each other, and since I thought it would be fun, I had joined in. Edna and I had ridden together, and Talia arrived with Ollie.
I had invited Gloria but was turned down. After Spencer arrested Paul, there was no communication at all on that end. I wondered how the arrest would impact the attorney’s business and the ladies’ confidence in him, but Spencer had basically said he didn’t care. I had also asked him about the cryptic remark he made regarding Paul’s background, but he refused to tell me, saying it was confidential. Very frustrating.
My thought was Spencer’s ego had been bruised along with his busted lip. Not a good experience for the sheriff and probably not a good look for the town in general.
As I removed my jacket, the bell at the door jingled, and I glanced over to see David stepping in. With him a sharp breeze swept in, and several of the older women cried out. Talia demanded he shut the door immediately or go home. I rolled my eyes in amusement and signaled for him to come to my table.
I stood when he reached me, and we hugged. “David, I haven’t seen you in forever. What have you been doing?”
He pouted. “Crying in my hot cocoa, honey. You know why?” He made a dramatic gesture of heartbreak, and I wrapped an arm about his shoulders as he sat down.
“Aw, you’ll find someone, sweetheart. For now, take a load off and have some hot chocolate with your friends.”
David sank into the seat beside me as he pulled his arms from his jacket. One of the ladies happened by at that moment and gathered his jacket to pile on top of the others. “Hot chocolate, David?”
“Oh, honey, yes. I need something to warm my insides. It’s cold out there.” He accepted the cup handed to him while straining to see over the heads of those in attendance.
“Who are you looking for?” I whispered.
He pouted. “Someone interesting, but never mind.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? You didn’t really have anything going with Brandon.”
“He could have been the one. You never know. Maybe I’ve been out of the game too long.”
“Well, look.” I spread my hand over the crowd. “You’ve got Ollie over there. He hasn’t tied the knot yet.”
David laughed, and I joined him. He waggled a finger at me. “You’re too much, Makayla.”
“I got you smiling, didn’t I?”
He agreed.
“That you did because nobody in their right mind would choose Ollie.”
“He’s a pretty good guy if you don’t mind him sharing all of your business all over town.”
David looked at me cross-eyed.
Someone tapped silverware against a glass, and I looked up. Talia stood in the middle of the room at the table where she reigned. “Since nobody is going to speak up, I will.” She looked at me. I wasn’t the one that called the meeting. When I shrugged to indicate such, Talia scowled. “Ladies and gentleman, this isn’t a social engagement. There’s another murderer among us.”
Across the room, Peony paled. I hadn’t expected her to come, but she did. I supposed she wanted justice as much as the rest of us, and she may have wanted to show she had never and would never support a murderer no matter who they were. I tried to catch her eye to show my belief in her, but she kept her head lowered. I would catch up with her later on.
“Far as I see it,” Hardy Joe said, banging a meaty fist on his table that made all the others there jump, “no one cares what happened to Bloomberg. He got his just desserts.”
“Does that mean you killed him?” Talia asked just as bold as she pleased. I recalled her doing the same with me, but in this case, I was curious what he would say as well. Hardy Joe had come in a jacket far too thin for the weather, and the T-shirt he wore had seen many wash days. At least it was clean, if faded beyond recognition. Lissa sat beside him in a coat she hadn’t removed and a cup of hot cocoa before her I didn’t think she had sipped from.
Beside Lissa sat her sister Reeza, but Reeza had ridden with her sister and brother-in-law because Pete was on duty. At least that had been the reason Reeza gave. I was of the opinion that Spencer hadn’t allowed him to come. The sheriff had informed me in no uncertain terms that nobody was encouraged to try solving this case themselves because it was too dangerous. On the one hand, I agreed. On the other, the murderer did need to be found, and who better to dig into the happenings of my new town than its ordinary citizens?
“Well, Hardy Joe?” Talia asked again when the room had erupted with her question. “Did you kill Dr. Bloomberg?”
Hardy Joe’s lips puckered in his anger, and he scraped back his chair. Lissa made a dive for him but missed. When she would have tumbled to the floor, her husband caught her and helped her straighten. Somehow seeing Lissa distressed settled him somewhat. He cared about her. “I didn’t, but I wish I did! If you’d a seen how Lissa cried when she came home the other day, how scared she was, well you wouldn’t think twice about doing what you had to do as a man.”
“I’m not a man,” Talia ridiculously pointed out.
David snorted.
“You just make yourself sound even guiltier,” Talia told him.
“He’s not,” Lissa shouted and stood up. “I didn’t tell Hardy Joe about what Dr. Bloomberg was doing. Yes, I was upset, but Hardy Joe didn’t know why. Please, stop accusing him.”
“How do we know that?” Talia said.
I stood. “That’s enough, Talia. These good people don’t deserve your harassment. They’ve been through enough, and Lissa should be praised for getting the word out that this was happening. Too many people would have turned a blind eye and pretended they didn’t see anything. Lissa was very brave.”
“Here, here, you tell ’em, honey.” David raised his Styrofoam cup.
Others began to chime in, and some moved to Lissa to pat her back or give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She offered a teary smile to one and all, and Hardy Joe took his seat nodding as if it was the least they could do for his wife.
“Who do you think did it, Talia?” someone asked from the crowd when everyone had settled down.
Talia smirked and surveyed us all in a slow circle of the room. She stuck her chest out and raised her chin. “Ollie might have done it to protect me.”
I’m telling you the laughter rattled the windows. Talia turned beet red, and so did Ollie. He’d been in the process of stuffing a forkful of French fries into his mouth, and with ketchup staining his chin and his coveralls, he paused. “Me?”
The disbelief in his tone was obvious, and I’m sure it embarrassed Talia just as much as the laughter of a moment ago.
Edna wobbled to her feet and raised an arm in the air. “Who here believes Ollie would kill for Talia?”
“Oh, sit down, Talia,” Louisa demanded. “You too, Edna. Are you even one of his patients, Talia?”
“I might be.” Talia, chin still high, took her seat in a regal fashion to be applauded by her entourage, all except Edna who shook her head and met my gaze in amusement. I winked at her, and her smile grew broader. I couldn’t have told you why Talia would put on such a production, but maybe she enjoyed being the center of attention so much, she didn’t care what opportunity presented itself.
“I’m beginning to think this evening was a bust,” I said to David.
“You’re surprised, sweetie? Well, listen when this nonsense is over, I have a bottle of something interesting, and we can go to my place and talk about your little issue.”
“What issue?” I said, feigning innocence.
He blinked at me, and I turned away. Someone had brought David a donut, which he hadn’t touched. “Are you going to eat that?”
He slid the treat toward me. “Be my guest.”
I proceeded to eat my third donut of the night and broke my two-donut daily rule for the first time in a long time. As stories rolled about the room, sometimes having relevan
ce to the case but more often not, I leaned elbows on the table and tried not to fall asleep. At nine, my phone dinged, and I pulled it from my purse to check the text.
“Is now a good time to talk? I’m leaving the station.”
My stomach cramped. I weighed my options and examined my emotions. Was I feeling more stable and able to face him? Did I want to whether I was or not? I had to admit I did want to and recalled Pattie had confirmed Penelope moved to the inn. Of course, it didn’t change the problems between Spencer and me. I hesitated.
As I sat there chewing the last of a thumbnail, David pulled my phone from between my hands and read the message. Then he handed it back. “Go. If you didn’t want to, you wouldn’t take this long to answer. So just go, and don’t regret it after.”
He was right. I slid my chair back as silently as I could, tiptoed over to the pile of coats and found mine, and then made my escape. As I warmed up the car, I texted Spencer. “Meet me at my place.”
Chapter Twelve
I was running late for my lunch date with Inna and her new friend, but that was nothing unusual for me. Today, I had tried to spruce myself up since Inna had said the woman was older, her word, like closer to my age and not a teenager. I didn’t see how being thirty-four needed the amount of emphasis Inna had given it, but maybe I was just being sensitive. I had worn a turtleneck cream-colored sweater dress and even added a pair of low-heeled black pumps to complete my ensemble, given the snow had long since stopped, and the ground had all but dried.
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