After I’d had my fill of watching him sleep, I rolled to the edge of the bed then yelped when his arm snaked out and he caught my wrist. “Where are you going?”
“What are you doing?” I shot back. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was until I felt someone staring a hole in my forehead.”
“You were dreaming. Let go.”
The entire time he was speaking, he’d kept his eyes closed. Now he opened them and peered at me. I felt like he read my mind, sorting through my thoughts to judge my emotional state.
“Are you okay?” he asked, confirming my assumption.
“I’m fine. I’m just getting up. Morning breath and all. This isn’t the movies.”
He narrowed his eyes, but I caught a flash of amusement. Then he grinned, broad and wide. “I’ve never minded morning breath. Come here.”
I screamed when he jerked me down to his chest and trapped me there. He raised his head to kiss me, and I slapped a palm over his mouth. “No way!”
He found the spot to tickle me weak on the first try. My hand fell away as I wiggled, and he claimed my lips, but the kiss was more of a peck. “There I proved my point.”
I sat up and moved away from the bed, searching for something to put on. “I don’t know what point you were making, so I think you failed.”
He grunted. “I want to take you to breakfast.”
I paused in the act of sliding a T-shirt over my head. “Didn’t we just eat a few hours ago?” The bedside clock read eight fifteen.
“We didn’t discuss the case. You need to explain that voicemail you left me and compare notes if you’ve learned anything that might help my investigation.”
I watched as he rose from the bed. He made no move to put his clothes on but rather walked around the bed and headed for the bathroom. In a few moments, my shower came on. To be honest, I liked the sound of his admitting I might be of help to the investigation.
“Makayla,” he barked from the bathroom. “Are you coming?”
This time it was my turn to grin. I threw the T-shirt on the bed and joined Spencer in the shower. Maybe we’d have a little more time before breakfast and serious matters interfered.
* * * *
Spencer sat down to a huge breakfast of pancakes, bacon, sausage, and eggs, along with a cup of coffee. I blinked at him, wondering how he could be hungry for so much, so early. My donuts and coffee were my usual, and I missed them. They were the perfect weight and sweetness for my stomach before noon.
Glancing around the restaurant a half-mile in the opposite direction of The Donut Hole and one street over, I took in the knowing glances tossed our way from the other patrons in the restaurant. I had been here only once or twice, but I was sure most of the people knew who the sheriff was if not me. Feeling like my love life was on display and not preferring it, I fiddled with my blueberry muffin. Low murmurs surrounded us, speculations flying, and there the sheriff sat shoveling forkfuls of food into his gullet. Somehow he didn’t look any less handsome eating so fast. Maybe it was his habit from having to rush off to get to work.
“If you keep tearing at that muffin, you’ll have nothing left,” he said, and I looked down at my plate. My breakfast ruined, I pushed it aside to pull my coffee closer.
“The coffee here is tons better than Frank’s.”
“It is.” He stirred in creamer and regular sugar to his coffee. Then when I poured myself another cup, he started to add sugar substitute to it. I covered it with my hand, frowning. He blinked. “Uh, sorry. Force of habit.”
I raised an eyebrow at him, and he explained.
“She liked me to make her coffee for her on the rare occasions we ate together.”
I clenched my jaw. Honestly, I didn’t want to talk about another woman even if I knew my feelings for Spencer weren’t warmer than a lover’s would be. Inside, I held my emotions in tight rein. I was a woman after all. However, I had shared my darkest, most shameful secret with him, and it had involved another man. The least I could do was listen to his story.
“Want to talk about it?” I made sure to mask any selfish reservations. He gazed at me in complete comprehension, and I found myself annoyed. Spencer Norwood should not be able to see into my head so easily.
“Not right now.”
I deflated. “Well really!”
He smiled and popped a last piece of sausage into his mouth. When he had done chewing, he wiped his mouth and fingers then pushed his plate away. “I want to talk about your phone call, Makayla. Can you tell me about it?”
I knew “can you” meant tell me now and forget the sob stories of the past. Sighing, I told him all I had learned from my time with David. “So, at Alvin’s request, David made twelve pieces of jewelry. Did you find any on him?”
Spencer rubbed a hand over his chin. “No, and I’ll have to ask his wife if he gave her any new jewelry recently.”
I winced. “If not, she won’t like it.”
Spencer brushed this aside. “I need to know. We have to track down that jewelry. If we can, we might know his movements better. That brings me to a possibility the killer worried that one of the pieces showed up on a photograph you took.”
“That’s what I thought.” I was impressed with myself that I might have a real investigator’s mind, or it could be that the killer’s motive was logical. I went with the first assumption—my skill.
Across the room, I noticed Edna walk out from the employees’ only section of the restaurant. Edna worked here? I hadn’t known that. The elderly lady held a small six by six inch cardboard box in her hands. She handed it to Talia, who cackled with glee when she received it. I frowned at them both, and Edna caught me looking. She smiled and waved. I nodded and offered my own smile. When Talia turned and spotted me, she glared, stuck the box under one arm, and vacated the restaurant, a lime green neck scarf with long ragged tassels flying out behind her. I glanced back at Edna for some type of explanation. Edna eyed me and then the sheriff, clapped her hands together in a show of celebration and disappeared again into the kitchen.
“I’m not convinced of the jewelry angle,” Spencer said, recapturing my attention. He had obviously been reasoning over what I had shared the entire time. “Before the files were erased, did you find any pictures with women in jewelry?”
“No, none. I mean nothing distinctive.” I sighed.
He stared off into the distance. “We can go over the ones we have in evidence again, see if there’s anything we missed now that we have more of a clue as to what we’re looking for. I don’t want to focus on that alone though. It might lead to nothing.”
“Do you have other evidence?”
He hesitated as if reluctant to share or wondering just how much he should share. I wasn’t a cop, and we might have slept together, but that didn’t exactly prove my trustworthiness, I’m ashamed to say. I waited, trying to appear to be an open book. He shook his head like he knew what I was doing, which in my opinion meant it worked.
“Does it have to do with debt?” I prompted, and he started.
“Why do you say that?”
“Inna Brinlee. Do you know her?” At his nod, I continued. “She heard you were questioning her parents and the Trevors. Something about their debt.”
Spencer’s notebook appeared. I bit my bottom lip. He didn’t have to say. I knew my words prompted him to question Inna for himself to find out any more details she might know. I just hoped my blundering didn’t get her parents into trouble, but if they were guilty, then it was better that she find out for sure. Ignorance helped no one.
“There’s no doubt about it,” Spencer admitted. “John Brinlee is lying to me.”
My mouth fell open, and my chest constricted. I didn’t want to ask for details, but I had to. “You think John did it?”
“I don’t know.” He signaled for the waitress, and when she stopped by, he requested another pot of coffee. When we were alone, he continued. “The Brinlees have a mortgage just like a lot of other people in
town, both on their home and their fitness center. The payments are behind.”
“But that’s no reason to kill the loan officer.”
“Not in and of itself,” he agreed.
“Then what’s so suspicious?”
“Alvin’s report to his boss was that the account is in good standing, and no negative rating was passed on to the credit companies.”
“Blackmail?”
“Maybe,” he said. “Gone wrong or taken too far. What I do know is Alvin didn’t push the Brinlees for payment on time, and he covered for them financially at least once.”
My mind whirled with the implications. I couldn’t wrap my head around the thought of Inna’s dad a murderer. Admittedly, I didn’t know him well, but he seemed more into making everyone happier and fitter. Perhaps he would do anything to keep being able to do what he loved and he had found out a secret about Alvin that helped him when money issues arose. Then what? Alvin got tired of covering for them when the membership at the gym didn’t increase or John’s ideas became too lofty?
“That’s where I was last night,” Spencer said, “when you called. They didn’t show up for their appointment to talk to me. I had to go find them, which I wasn’t too happy about.”
I looked at the stern expression. One didn’t keep Spencer Norwood waiting, I guessed.
“If I had known you were across the street getting your head cracked open…” His irritation was plain, and I winced in horror. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”
“It’s okay, but I’m glad you weren’t far.”
“The killer was desperate to keep his secret, risking coming to your shop when my car was obvious to anyone passing by on the other side of the street.”
Spencer ground his teeth, and I guessed his anger was more than about me getting hurt. His reputation had been sullied too. A citizen of Briney Creek had been attacked right under the sheriff’s nose.
“It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known,” I argued. “You were doing your job.”
“Don’t worry about me.” He smiled. “I appreciate the concern. You need to be careful.”
“Why? They got what they wanted didn’t they? All my files are gone.”
“Remember, I told you we can call the storage company. I’ll do it as soon as I get into the office. Here. Write down the name and any additional information I need to pass on to them.”
I eyed him. “Don’t you need a warrant or something?”
“Do you want me to get one?”
I sighed. “No, I don’t care. If they do have the files, I’d love them back, and there’s nothing even remotely interesting from my personal life there.”
He grinned. “Nothing naughty? I’m disappointed.”
I smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to see? Keep saying stuff like that, sheriff, and I will require a warrant.”
His face fell. What he suggested made me think of what I’d told him about Diana. My sister was the vibrant one, the wild one, if you will. I had been Ms. Safe, not shy, but not extremely outgoing either. You wouldn’t find me hiking Mr. Everest, or whatever mountains people who loved the rush sought after. When Diana died, it affected me hard, but my personality didn’t change. I didn’t become like her, taking life by the horns. I was still me—maybe a lot more cautious with my heart, but still me.
We got back to business. I asked, “Did the Brinlees have an excuse for not showing up?”
“They were busy with new customers,” he growled. “I threatened them with obstructing justice, but really I have nothing concrete on them. I can’t hold them at this time, and they both have alibis for the night of the murder. Home together, they claim. Seems like everyone has an alibi.”
I hesitated, but I couldn’t keep anyone out of the pool of investigation. “What about the Trevors? Inna was worried about them too because you called them in to question. I ran into them while they were leaving for the appointment with you.” I rang my hands together. “I really don’t want them to have had anything to do with the murder.”
“I don’t want anyone in town to be involved,” he said, “but that’s just not true.”
“Well, the Trevors are also having financial problems.”
“Right. I looked into it, but even if I didn’t, Frank let it be known far and wide with this blowup at the bank.”
I made a small sound of agreement. “I’d heard about that from Inna.”
“Frank Trevor visited the bank to ask for another loan on his shop. Alvin turned him down. He blew up, shouting that it wasn’t fair.”
I jumped on the choice of words as I’d done previously. “What wasn’t fair? That he couldn’t get a loan?”
Spencer shrugged. “Frank is a war vet. An IED busted him up a bit.”
I knew this much. “Yeah, that’s why he can’t stand on his leg very long, but he’s still plugging with his cane. Peony told me sometimes he’s in so much pain, he can’t sleep at night. I feel sorry for him. He’s a good man.”
Spencer didn’t commit to this statement. I knew it was part of his job. “The government owes Frank retro pay. He’s been trying to hold out until it comes in. I believe he did go into that bank to demand to be given more time, but from what I’d seen of the records, he had already been given time. Lots of it.”
“I would think the fact that he’s somewhat lame lets him off as a suspect?” I suggested.
“Not at all. He’s plenty strong in his hands, arms, and upper body. The way Alvin Aston was killed, a woman or a child could have killed him. The stab wound’s location was fatal. He bled to death.”
“Oh.” My tummy stirred in distaste although he hadn’t been too descriptive. “So did he threaten Alvin like I’ve heard?”
When the check came, Spencer pulled out his wallet and began counting bills. I opened my purse, but he shook his head. I started to give a speech about meeting him halfway but let it go. Next time, I would buy.
I stood and preceded Spencer out the door. His hand at my lower back felt comfortable, and I joined him in his squad car because I had left mine home. We headed toward the station so that I could take another look at the photos he kept there.
“To answer your question, no, the rumor’s false. I questioned witnesses at the bank. The day of the incident Frank didn’t threaten Alvin after being turned down. He did display his anger and rant for so long someone sent for Peony Trevor to convince him to go home. She did, and as far as I can tell, that was the last of it.”
I ran fingers through my hair and crunched it at the roots in my frustration. “You have to deal with this type of thing all the time.”
“Not as much as I would in a big city.”
“Oh, yes, the last murder was twenty-five years ago.”
He blinked. “Really? Interesting.”
“You took the job without knowing that?”
“At the time, the job wasn’t what motivated the move.”
“Oh.”
I recalled his ex-wife and let the matter drop. When we entered the police station, the same officer to whom I’d offered a donut spotted me, and cast a hopeful look my way. I held up empty hands, and his dejected expression made me laugh.
Spencer’s gaze shifted between the two of us. “What was that about?”
“Donuts.”
His confusion didn’t clear away, but he led me into his office and shut the door behind us. When we were alone, he drew me close and kissed me. I enjoyed it for a moment then moved to take a seat near his desk. He joined me.
Spencer opened a file on his desk and set his notebook next to it. He painstakingly added the notes from the book to a sheet inside the file and set his pen down. “Even if Frank Trevor was frustrated with Alvin, killing him over it wouldn’t give Frank an advantage. If anything, his loan would be assigned to a new officer, who might have even less sympathy for his plight. Still, murder is not always rational, so I’m not ruling him out.”
“What about the ladies? Pattie, Susan, Louisa?” I suggest
ed.
“All this from David Kokichi?”
“No.”
“You’ve been investigating.”
I held up a hand. “We had an agreement, Spencer, so don’t start backing out now.”
“At what time did we agree you would investigate on your own, Makayla? You might have brought the killer to your shop to shut you up.”
“I didn’t.”
“You might have!”
At his shout, I stilled. “I don’t appreciate being yelled at, sheriff.”
“You resort to calling me sheriff whenever you’re angry.”
“It’s a natural occurrence.”
“And the tone of voice. What’s that?” He stood and folded his arms across his chest, all intimidation that I refused to cow to. I stared right back and raised my chin.
“It’s me. I can take care of myself, and I have been for many years.”
To my surprise, he backed off and sat down. “My advice is to remember that this isn’t a game, Makayla.”
“I know that. Better than anyone.”
A glint of sympathy. “Pattie gave Susan an alibi for that night, but later I found out Susan was not with Pattie. She was with her lawyer.”
I clenched my jaw. “An alibi doesn’t mean…”
“I know,” he agreed. “Alvin contacted his lawyer before he died.”
I gasped.
“He and Susan had a prenup. She stood to lose everything if he divorced her.”
I pressed a hand to my head. “These people.”
“Exactly. The lawyer can’t confirm if Alvin intended to file for divorce, but if he died before he did, Susan stood to gain a lot of money.”
“Where did he get his money? I assume he made a decent salary from his job, but surely, not enough to necessitate a prenuptial agreement and to spend a small fortune on jewelry.”
“A series of investments he made a few years before he married Susan paid off for him to the tune of several hundred thousand dollars.”
“So that’s why he could marry royalty. It wasn’t just his education and job, and why Susan was fine with her dad disowning her.”
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