by B. J Daniels
In the meantime he had to concentrate on finding the coins and Shane during the daylight hours. Once Pierce had the coins again, Jill would be safe. Then if Jill still needed that alibi… Mac told himself he wouldn’t let her go to jail—if it came to that. Damn, but he hoped it wouldn’t.
As he rose from his chair to leave, the bell over the door jangled. A thirtysomething, dark-haired man burst into the bakery and made a beeline for Jill Lawson.
“I heard you think Jill killed Trevor Forester,” the man said loudly. He was about Mac’s height and size, his tanned arms corded with muscle, his face lined with squint lines from the sun. A man who worked outdoors.
“Excuse me, but this is sheriff’s department business,” the larger of the deputies said, getting to his feet.
“Oh, yeah? Well, I’m here to tell you Jill couldn’t have killed Trevor,” the man said. “She was with me last night. In the lake cottage.” The man looked at Jill and added, “Making love.”
Chapter Six
Jill scrambled to her feet. She was shaking her head, staring at Arnie Evans, telling herself it wasn’t possible. “Arnie, don’t make things any worse by lying.”
“Could we discuss this in private in your apartment?” Duncan suggested. “Mr. Evans, if you’d please hold down your voice until we can go upstairs.”
Jill glanced up. The man who’d been sitting by the window was standing next to his table, staring at them as if in shock. She couldn’t blame him, given what he’d just overheard. “Yes, my apartment.” She glanced at Zoe, who also looked stunned.
“Take care of closing up?” Jill said.
Zoe nodded. “Should I call…someone?”
“I’ll be fine.” Not if Arnie had been her mystery lover.
Zoe nodded, big-eyed as they left for Jill’s upstairs apartment.
Once upstairs Arnie sat in one of her overstuffed chairs, looking bashful and shy as he glanced around. Duncan put the cushions back on the couch and sat down. Samuelson leaned in the doorway to the kitchen, watching them all.
Jill didn’t want to sit. She wanted to pace. But she made herself take the other chair, the one farthest from Arnie, as if that could somehow distance her from his…story.
“Are you telling me that this isn’t the man from the cottage?” Duncan asked her.
Oh, God, I hope not. “It can’t be.”
“She didn’t know it was me,” Arnie said sheepishly. “She thought it was Trevor. Okay, maybe I let her think that. When I came up with the idea to dress in the same costume as Trevor, I thought it would be fun. I didn’t mean for it to hurt anyone.”
Jill wanted to pull the floor over her head. Arnie Evans. Since kindergarten, Arnie had been Trevor’s shadow and her tormentor. Whatever Trevor did, Arnie tried, usually failing badly. When he hadn’t been emulating Trevor as a boy, he’d been throwing worms at Jill or putting gum in her hair or pushing her down in the playground.
Jill had learned to avoid Arnie.
As they grew older, Arnie had done poorly in school, not gone to college, ended up in construction and now had to work for a living with his hands—all just the opposite of Trevor.
What had always amazed her was that Arnie and Trevor had been such good friends. She suspected, knowing what she now knew about her former fiancé, that the reason was because Trevor loved being idolized. Trevor used to say that every man should have a friend like Arnie—and then he’d laugh.
While Arnie hadn’t taunted or teased Jill as an adult, she’d felt that he was jealous of her relationship with Trevor. And when she was around the two of them, she had felt like a third wheel. She knew that Arnie would do anything for Trevor. Anything.
“He’s lying,” she said. Oh, please, let him be lying. She could never have been seduced by Arnie Evans. And yet, physically, he could have been the man. He was about Trevor’s height, but then, so were a lot of men. He’d worked construction since he was young and he was strong, lean and solid, just like the man from the cottage.
Even Arnie’s stupid explanation for why he was wearing the same costume as Trevor made sense, if you knew Arnie.
Why was Arnie doing this? “He has to be lying.”
The deputies questioned him about the time, the storm, power outage, everything. Arnie, to her horror, seemed to have all the answers.
“What name did you rent the costume under?” Duncan asked.
Arnie shrugged. “Trevor rented it. I knew he had an extra Rhett Butler costume on his hands. That’s how I came up with the idea.”
“Arnie was Trevor’s best friend!” Jill cried. “That’s how he knew about the extra costume. I’m telling you, he’s lying. How did he even know I needed an alibi? Don’t you see? He must have heard all this from his cousin who works at city hall, right next to the sheriff’s department.”
Duncan looked at Jill as if she’d lost her mind. Here was a man ready to provide her with an alibi, and she was doing everything in her power to challenge it.
“Is there any way you can prove you were the man with Ms. Lawson in the cottage last night?” Duncan asked.
Arnie nodded and pulled the silk bra she’d been wearing last night from his pocket, dangling it before them.
Jill was going to be sick. And just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse.
NO WAY! Mac couldn’t believe what he’d overhead just before the deputies went upstairs with Jill and the man she’d called Arnie. Arnie Evans, the deputy had said.
Mac’s first instinct was to step forward and take credit where credit was due. But as much as he wanted to for more reasons than he cared to admit, he couldn’t. He told himself there was no way Jill would believe that this Arnie was the man, would she?
He drove back to the houseboat. Who the hell was Arnie Evans, anyway? Mac had seen Jill’s adverse reaction to the man—and his story. More importantly, why was the man lying? To save Jill? Or himself?
It didn’t take Mac long at the Beach Bar to find out that Arnie Evans had supposedly been Trevor Forester’s best friend. And that he had not only invested in the Inspiration Island development, he worked out there.
After a phone call to his cop buddy Charley Johnson, Mac found out that Arnie had run into some trouble with the law when he was younger. Twice he’d been picked up for having sex with underage girls. Both times he’d gotten off, supposedly because Trevor had paid off the parents of the girls.
Arnie had been one of the people the local sheriff had looked at in the cases of the missing teens. But they’d never been able to get anything on him.
Mac could feel himself getting deeper and deeper into Trevor Forester’s murder. He started beating the bushes, looking for Shane, in a race against the clock. Come dark, he would be camped outside Jill Lawson’s apartment—a dangerous place for him to be in more ways than one.
JILL COULDN’T RECALL a worse day.
Both Deputies Duncan and Samuelson seemed satisfied that Arnie Evans was her mystery lover—and her alibi for the time of the murder. As crazy as it seemed, she preferred being a suspect in Trevor Forester’s murder than this.
After Arnie promised to go to the sheriff’s department and make a statement, the deputies left. Duncan gave her an apologetic nod. Samuelson merely looked from Arnie to her and back, obviously disgusted that she’d made love with Trevor’s best friend on the night her fiancé was murdered.
Samuelson didn’t know the half of it. If Arnie was telling the truth, she’d made love with a man she couldn’t stand the sight of.
Her face burned with embarrassment as she watched the deputies leave. Finally she made herself look at Arnie. It was difficult. “Maybe they believe your story, but I don’t.”
“You sure hold a grudge a long time,” Arnie said. “I think the reason I bugged you so much when were kids is that I just wanted you to notice me.”
“Oh, I noticed you all right.”
“I always liked you. It really ticked me off the way Trevor treated you.” He sounded sincere. Then he g
ot to his feet. “I should get going. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed I was the man with you. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I had a feeling you wouldn’t be happy about…us. I just couldn’t let them hassle you anymore. And you were right, I did hear about that through my cousin. You know how news travels in this town.”
Jill groaned. The whole town knew about her tryst in the lake cottage last night—and now they’d hear it was with Arnie.
“It’ll blow over,” he said as if reading her mind. “And don’t worry. I won’t bother you, considering how you feel about things…now.”
She’d never seen this side of Arnie before. He was being much nicer than she ever would have guessed. Was it possible he really had been the man in the cottage?
It was that first kiss, she realized. The moment their lips had touched. That kiss had melted all her anger, resentment, fears about Trevor. She’d been seduced by a kiss. A kiss from Arnie Evans?
She cringed at the thought, even with him acting almost human. She just couldn’t imagine him being the generous, loving man who’d transported her to another world and introduced her to passion. It had been more than sex. She had bonded with that man and now missed him, ached for him. And her heart and soul told her he wasn’t Arnie Evans.
Arnie walked to the door and stopped. “I know Trevor could be a real jackass, but he was my best friend.”
“Is that why you decided to give me an alibi?” she asked.
He shook his head, his dark gaze meeting hers. He really did seem shy around her without Trevor here. “I told the truth, Jill. I’m sorry, but it was me last night.” He turned and started toward the door.
“Arnie?”
He stopped, his back to her.
“Did you know about the woman Trevor was seeing, Rachel?”
He didn’t turn around. “I knew there was someone. I saw her driving your car once.”
“Do you know her name?”
“Rachel. That’s all I knew. But she never really mattered to Trevor. He was just stringing her along like he did all women.”
He was planning to marry this one. “I appreciate you trying to help me,” she said, feeling a little guilty. She swore she’d never have sex again.
Moments later she glanced out the window and saw Arnie getting into a new black sports car—the same one that had been parked in front of the bakery this morning.
Why would Arnie be sitting across the street in his car at three-thirty in the morning watching her bakery? Was it possible he’d been considering telling her he was the man? Could she be wrong about him?
AFTER ARNIE LEFT, Jill called to get her locks replaced, remembering that someone had Trevor’s key to her apartment. Brenna called just as she was getting ready to leave.
“Trevor never applied for a marriage license or got any blood tests and—are you ready for this?—he cashed in the second ticket, the one for Rachel Forester, the day before the party,” Brenna said. “Either he changed his mind about marrying her, or he never planned to.”
Maybe Arnie had been right about Trevor not caring about Rachel.
“I would say she had a great motive for murder if she found out,” Brenna noted.
“No kidding.” But what had she been looking for at the condo if not the ticket?
After they hung up, Jill changed clothes and drove out to meet with Alistair Forester, all the time thinking about motives for murder—and the other Scarlett. Was she Rachel?
The road to the Forester house was narrow and winding, providing glimpses of the lake through the cherry trees, some still heavy with fruit. Flathead cherries were famous and only grew on this side of the lake.
This early in the afternoon, the water was glassy smooth and green. The leaves of the cherry trees shimmered in the summer heat.
As the road narrowed even more along the rocky cliffs, Jill was reminded of the previous night when she’d been chasing her red Saturn. She’d thought it was Trevor driving her car. Instead, it must have been the other Scarlett.
As she parked the van, she caught sight of the cottage through the pine trees and felt a rush of emotion that had nothing to do with Arnie Evans. He couldn’t have been the man, no matter what he said or how he acted or what evidence he was able to provide, she thought, remembering how she’d felt in the man’s arms, the feelings he’d elicited from her.
The cottage seemed to pull her. She walked down to it and opened the door, peering inside. The deputies had already searched it. But still she had to look. Not that she knew what she was looking for.
The cottage was small. Just room enough for a bed, two club chairs, a small table and a bathroom. How had Arnie gotten the bra, she wondered, if he hadn’t been the man? And what about the ring and her panties? Who had them?
She stood in the middle of the room. She could almost feel the man’s presence, his touch such a clear memory her skin tingled and her body ached. She closed her eyes, sensing something of the man still there in the room, an intangible essence that assured her everything she believed about last night was true. Her lover was still masked, still a mystery, waiting to be found, wanting her as badly as she wanted him.
She opened her eyes. “Right. If he wants you so badly, where is he? Why hasn’t he come looking for you? Why hasn’t he come to your rescue?”
The only thing she could be sure of was that whoever the man had been last night, he’d stirred a desire in her she feared no other man could satisfy.
She started to leave, closing the door behind her, wishing she could close the door on last night as easily. The soles of her sandals scraped on something gritty on the floor. She looked down and saw what appeared to be mustard-colored dried mud on the threshold.
She bent and picked up a piece of it, surprised since she knew of no place around here that had mud that color. Crumbling it in her fingers, she had a flash of memory. She’d seen this kind of dried mud before. On Trevor’s boots the last time he’d come into the bakery from the island!
ALISTAIR OPENED the door at Jill’s knock. He looked ten years older, his face gray and drawn. Without a word, he hugged her.
“I am so sorry,” Jill whispered.
He nodded wordlessly, his eyes shining with fresh tears as he led her to his den. “I had the maid make us some lemonade.”
She wasn’t thirsty but took the drink he offered her and sat down beside him on the sofa, wondering where Heddy was.
He seemed nervous, unsure, something totally alien for a man like him. “I know things weren’t…good between you and my son.”
She nodded. “I hadn’t really seen Trevor lately. I had the feeling he’d been avoiding me. I wanted to believe it was just his work, but I think I knew better. I was going to break off the engagement last night, even before I found out there was someone else.”
“Another woman,” Alistair said.
“Yes. Did you know about her?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. You know how delighted I was that you were going to be part of our family. Trevor knew my sentiments, as well.” His eyes filled with more tears. He squeezed her hand. “I am deeply saddened that you won’t be my daughter-in-law.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“If there is anything you need, anything at all, please let me know,” he said. “The funeral is tomorrow. Heddy insisted we open it up to the entire town. I think she needs to see a big turnout.”
Jill nodded in understanding.
“We thought it was best to have it as soon as the coroner released the…body.” His voice broke. “What did Trevor do that made someone want to kill him?”
Jill took Alistair’s hand, knowing how hard this must be on him. How many women had Trevor been stringing along? Had one of them killed him?
“I hadn’t seen Trevor much myself lately,” Alistair said, composing himself. “Not since I cut him off financially.” He nodded at Jill’s surprise. “I know Trevor had planned to leave town last night. The sheriff said he’d purchased a second plane ticket. For a Mrs.
Forester. A Rachel Forester. I told myself there must be some mistake.”
Jill shook her head. There was no mistake. “There was a woman at the party dressed in the same costume I had on. It seems she planned to take my place once Trevor broke the news to me.”
Alistair shook his head. “Despicable behavior. I am so ashamed.” He closed his eyes as if he was in pain. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said.
He shook his head. “Yes, it is,” he said opening his eyes again. “Heddy and I spoiled Trevor, and kept right on spoiling him. We gave him everything he ever asked for. Including that awful island. He wanted it so badly. As much as I disliked the idea, I thought he might make something of it. I thought it might…change him. Unfortunately his intent seems to have only been to swindle the people who trusted him, myself and the other investors. Inspiration Island indeed. I guess it was Trevor’s little joke on us all.”
“Who were the other investors?” Jill asked, suddenly wondering if one of the investors had found out about the swindle and killed Trevor.
Alistair named four people: Wesley Morgan, a local landowner; J. P. Davies, a retired computer whiz with a summer home on the lake—J.P. never spent more than a few weeks at the lake each year; and Arnie and Burt Evans.
Arnie’s father invested in Inspiration Island? Burt Evans had owned a gas station in Polson, at the south end of the lake. He’d died in May from a heart attack, but Jill doubted he’d had much to invest. She’d always gotten the impression he’d barely scraped by.
“Trevor was much deeper in debt than I suspected,” Alistair said. “Even if he had completed the island project, he couldn’t have made enough to get himself out of debt and pay back the investors. Finishing the project is out of the question.”
