Rufus and Detective Flynn fired question after question at me, most of them duplicates of Officer Morrel’s. Then we got into the gory details.
Rufus asked, “Did you touch the victim’s body, even to check for a pulse?”
“No.”
“Did you touch the knife in the victim’s back at any time?”
I shuddered.
“No.”
During Rufus’s last few questions, Detective Flynn had been pacing the room rather angrily for some reason. He suddenly marched over to me and barked, “How did you know he was dead? Why didn’t you try to help him?”
I was taken aback at that question, mainly because I’d worried that I should have tried to do something for Jason. “Um…well…there was a lot of blood. He wasn’t moving, and his eyes were open. But…unfocused and glazed.” I sighed, tears filling my own eyes as I turned to Rufus for some moral support. “Honestly, Rufus, I flipped out. I couldn’t handle it, so I ran. I’ve beat myself up for not having more courage.”
He reached out and put his hand over mine. “It’s okay. As harsh as it sounds, it’s easier for us if no one tries to help the victim. Good samaritans only make things more complicated by fouling up our evidence.”
I didn’t think I liked his answer, but I saw his point.
Continuing, he asked, “How did the victim’s blood get on your clothes?”
“I was backing away from him, and I slipped on the mess and fell.”
The two detectives nodded at each other, and Rufus turned off the recorder. “I take it you knew the victim personally since you were friends with his brother?”
I replied, “Yes. But not well. I’ve probably only ever said a dozen words to him.”
Detective Flynn asked, “Do you know who might want to kill him?”
That was too easy. All of his employees? His wife? Probably anyone who’d talked to him for more than a few minutes? “I hate to speak ill of the dead, but Jason wasn’t exactly well-liked.”
While Detective Flynn began pacing again, Rufus sat back in his chair and crossed his long legs, as if we were sitting in a restaurant chatting like old friends. These two had the old good cop/bad cop routine down to a science. Never having been on the receiving end of it, I had to admit it worked like a charm. I wanted to spill my guts to Rufus because he was nice, and I felt like I had to spill my guts to Detective Flynn or else.
Rufus said, “Why do you say that? Who specifically had a reason not to like him?”
I squirmed in my seat. I felt like anyone’s name I said would go on the list of prime suspects, and I hated to even speculate since I knew nothing about what had happened before I entered the restaurant. “He…didn’t treat people well. He yelled in the kitchen a lot. You could hear it out here sometimes. From what I’ve seen, I don’t think he was particularly kind to anyone.”
Not breaking his stride, Detective Flynn barked from several feet away, “We need names or you’re obstructing justice.”
I put my head in my hands. I didn’t know how much more of his bullying I could take.
Rufus asked calmly, “How about the victim’s wife, Valerie?”
I raised my head and shrugged. “I don’t know her well, either.”
“I mean, have you seen him treat her badly or have you witnessed them fighting?”
I thought back to this morning, when Jason barreled into the restaurant madder than a wet hen. “I was over here this morning, and Jason seemed angry. He shoulder-checked Drew and pulled Valerie by the arm into the kitchen with him. I couldn’t make out exactly what he said to her, but I did hear a couple of words I can’t repeat.”
Detective Flynn came to a halt. “How about his brother, Drew?”
“He’s my friend. I hope you’re not going to ask me if I think Drew killed his brother.”
Rufus shook his head. “No, because your opinion would be biased. We want to know if you’ve seen or heard them fighting or if Drew has told you anything about their relationship.”
I considered that question for a moment. Drew had confided in me this morning about the ongoing arguments with his brother concerning the restaurant. If I told the detectives what I knew, wouldn’t that incriminate Drew? On the other hand, if I didn’t tell them, I would be “obstructing justice.” Unfortunately for my friendship with Drew, it was a no-brainer for me.
“Drew told me this morning that the restaurant isn’t doing well. He wants to sell; Jason doesn’t. He said the two of them had been fighting about it for weeks.”
Rufus gave me a sympathetic smile. “I know that was probably something you would rather have kept to yourself, but I appreciate your candor.”
Lasering his gaze in on me again, Detective Flynn asked, “What about you? Did you get along with Jason Green?”
The implication of his question made my insides turn to ice. I choked out, “I didn’t know him that well.”
“So you said.” He crossed his arms. “You want to know what I think?”
Not particularly.
He went on, “I think your story is fishy. What woman goes out at ten o’clock on a Monday night to make an apology that could have waited until the morning?”
My eyebrows shot up. “My story is fishy because I’m a woman?”
Ignoring me, he continued, “You happened to show up at a closed restaurant just after a man was killed there. What’s to say you didn’t kill Jason Green and then whip up this ridiculous story to throw the heat off yourself? You were covered in the victim’s blood when the first responders got here. You tell me why I shouldn’t put you at the top of our suspect list.”
This could not be happening. I did nothing wrong! Shaking like a leaf, I managed to say, “Because I didn’t kill Jason. I was at my home—”
“Right. And only one person can vouch for that. Maybe you paid your neighbor to be your alibi.”
My jaw dropped. “I would never do that. I am and always have been a law-abiding citizen—”
Rufus held his hands up. “Okay, let’s bring this back around. Quinn, I have to agree that it’s suspicious that you had the victim’s blood on your clothes.” I started to object, but he silenced me with a look. “But you’ve been very cooperative, and we’re not going to hold you if your alibi checks out.”
They weren’t going to hold me? There was a possibility they’d hold me? In jail? I clamped my jaws together, willing my tears to stay in check and my heart to keep beating.
Without regard for my current state of agitation, Detective Flynn added ominously, “But if we find evidence that you were more than just simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, we’ll nail you, Miss Bellandini. You may not be an official suspect—yet—but you are officially a person of interest in this case.”
I felt nauseous, and a cold sweat broke out all over my body. A person of interest? I’d never had so much as a parking ticket in my entire life, and now here I was at the center of a murder investigation.
Rufus shot his partner a frown and softened his expression when he turned back to me. “If there’s nothing else you can think of, I’m ready to turn you loose as soon as we verify your alibi.”
I nodded, unable to come up with any more coherent thoughts. I was more than ready to get away from horrible Detective Flynn and his overbearing inquisition.
Rufus stood. “Let’s go see if Officer Carter is back yet.”
As Rufus ushered me ahead of him out the door, I ran smack into Drew.
I grabbed his arm to steady myself. “Oh, Drew. I’m so sorry about your brother.”
Drew nodded. He looked like he’d been crying—and he also looked like he’d been beat up. His lip was split, and there was a growing bruise around one eye. “I…uh…I heard you found…” He looked down, unable to complete his sentence.
“I did,” I whispered, my heart aching for him. “Are
you okay?”
Before he could reply, Officer Morrel came to the bottom of the steps and called to Rufus, “Detective King, Miss Bellandini’s alibi checks out. Her neighbor verified she’d been at Bellandini’s B&B from eight-thirty until he saw her leave the premises just after ten.”
Drew stared at me. “I thought you were going to the play tonight, Quinn.”
Well, sugar honey iced tea.
Chapter 6
I winced. Did the good officer have to pick this moment to announce my alibi to the world? Before I had a chance to explain things to Drew? It was one thing to make a mistake, admit it, and work things out. It was quite another to get caught out in your lie before you’d had time to ’fess up to it.
Even though I didn’t deserve rescuing, Rufus came to my aid. “Let’s get you home, Miss Bellandini. Mr. Green, my partner and I would like to speak to you inside now.”
Drew continued past me without another word and headed into the restaurant. I hated that he found out I’d lied to him on top of everything else he had to deal with tonight.
Rufus gave me a pat on the shoulder and led me down the steps. “Go home and rest, Quinn. I appreciate what you did tonight. I know you saw some things you can’t unsee, but at least you saved Jason Green’s family from more heartache. They wouldn’t have wanted to remember him like this.”
I gave him a watery smile. “Thanks for saying that. It was good to see you again, Rufus. Too bad it wasn’t under different circumstances.”
He smiled. “You may not be finished with me yet. We may need to speak to you again before this is all over. And I’ll warn you—word of this will get out.” He gestured to a couple of news vans parked down the street and to several people with cameras back behind the police’s perimeter line. “Reporters will hound you, and your friends will want to gossip with you. But you can’t tell anyone what you saw in there. Anyone. We often use private details of the crime scene to catch the murderer in a lie. Can I count on you, Quinn?”
My heart sank. I’d already managed to mess that up. “My sister saw my clothes…the blood…I mentioned the knife to her before I knew—”
Rufus held up a hand. “We know. Officer Carter has already spoken with her and impressed on her how important her discretion is. No harm done. You were likely in a state when she found you.” He glanced across the street, to where Delilah was sitting on the curb. She looked exhausted. “I’m happy someone was here for you. Take care, Quinn. You’re free to go.”
I’d never been so ready to hear those words. I fled across the street, into Delilah’s waiting arms.
* * *
—
During the night, I only woke up screaming twice. After the second time, Delilah came and got in bed with me, like she used to when we were kids and I’d have a nightmare. I tossed and turned after that, and judging by the lack of snoring from my sister, she didn’t sleep much, either. However, in the morning, she insisted I stay in bed while she and Papa Sal prepared breakfast for our guests.
But after the phone rang about ten times and my mother’s raucous laughter shook the old house, I knew there’d be no chance of me getting any more sleep. I went down the back stairs to find my sister and Papa Sal slaving away over the breakfast dishes while my mom sat at the kitchen table.
I stepped down off the last step and entered the kitchen. My poor throbbing head couldn’t take much, but my mother swooped in on me and thrust a newspaper in my face.
“My little starlet. Why, your name will be on the tongue of every Savannahian by the end of the day,” she said, excitedly tapping at a photo of me taken last night in front of Green. Above it, the headline on the front page of today’s edition read, local chef found dead in his restaurant.
An apprehensive feeling settling into my gut, I said, “Mom, I found a friend’s brother dead, and according to one of the detectives, I’m a person of interest in the murder. This isn’t some juicy bit of gossip. It’s morbid and frightening.”
As Papa Sal shuffled over to give me a kiss on the forehead and a sympathetic smile, Mom waved away my comment. “All gossip is good gossip. We’ve already had several calls this morning from reporters wanting to do whole pieces on you, darlin’.”
Horrified, I gaped at her. That was the last thing I wanted. Forget my own reputation—this mess could reflect badly on the B&B.
Delilah turned to me. “Don’t worry. I told them to take a hike.”
As I mouthed a silent but heartfelt thank you to my sister, my mother blustered on. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Delilah said, “Why? So we can be booked solid by a bunch of freaks who get off on true crime? Not the clientele we’re going for, Mom.”
“Poppycock. Paying guests are paying guests. Getting Quinn’s name out there will bring some much-needed business to the B&B.”
Delilah stiffened. “Oh, so now you suddenly care about the B&B?”
Papa Sal said quietly to her, “Don’t get your feathers ruffled, Delilah.”
Mom stuck out her lower lip. “D, honey, you know I care about this old place. I’m just not wired right to work here.” She spread her arms wide. “I gotta have my wings.”
My sister and I exchanged a knowing glance. Mom had had her “wings” most of our lives. When our father had left her, she’d essentially dumped us on Grandmama Hattie and Papa Sal and gone off to do her own thing. Lucky for us, our grandparents had given us the most wonderful home life imaginable. Every once in a while, Mom would feel bad about ditching us and make us come with her for a week or so to tour the country with her assorted hippie and hobo friends. We could never wait to get back to the normalcy of our grandparents’ home.
Papa Sal said, “Dixie, it was a pleasure to see you as always.” He gave Mom a pointed look and a kiss on the cheek, then ushered me toward the screened porch.
“Daddy, you know I changed my name to Suncloud decades ago,” Mom whined, but got the point. She grabbed her newspaper and left in a huff.
Papa Sal sat down on the wicker settee and pulled me down next to him. “The only thing I want to know is if you’re okay, Quinnie.”
I put my head on his shoulder. “Yes, I’m okay. I mean…I’m not, but…”
He patted my knee. “Things are hard right now, but you’re strong. I know you’ll be fine eventually. I can’t imagine what you saw, and I’m not going to ask. And I can’t imagine what you’re going through with all the police nonsense. But if you need me, you know I’m always here for you.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“Do you want to take a couple of days off? I can’t bake like you or run the blasted computer like you, but I can scrub toilets with the best of them. We can manage without you for a little while. I’ll even draft Dixie to do a few things around here. Work is a foreign concept to her, but surely she could do…something.”
I laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need time off. Delilah may take you up on the scrubbing-toilets thing, though.”
Papa Sal chuckled and put his arm around my shoulders. There was nothing more comforting than knowing Papa Sal had your back.
* * *
—
About halfway through the morning, I was trying my best to concentrate on our B&B’s accounting work, but doing a terrible job of it. Visions of last night kept playing through my mind like a horror movie. I was afraid I’d make a major mistake on my work if I tried to power through it, so I took a break. I grabbed a glass of iced tea and wandered over to a bench in Pulaski Square for some quiet alone time.
Drew had other ideas.
The moment I sat down, I got a text from him that said, Are you free to talk right now?
I was trying so hard to put yesterday out of my mind, but I was sure my emotional distress paled in comparison to Drew’s. Plus, I was one of the only people he could talk to who wouldn’t ask him a zillion probing q
uestions.
I sighed. Sure. I’m in Pulaski Square if you want to meet me here.
Be right there.
Within moments, I spotted Drew approaching from down the street. There was a marked lack of spring in his step, which was more than understandable.
He threw himself down next to me on the bench.
I turned to him. “Drew, I’m so sorry about Jason. I can’t even imagine…”
He smiled sadly. “I know. I’m trying to keep it together, but…It all seems so surreal.”
Sighing, I said, “It is.”
Even though he’d said he wanted to get together to talk, he didn’t seem like he actually wanted to talk about anything at the moment. Maybe he just hadn’t wanted to be alone. I held out my glass of tea to him in a silent offering.
He asked, “I don’t suppose there’s anything stronger than tea in there?”
“Nope, sorry.”
Shrugging, he took the glass anyway, sipping it slowly as he stared blindly out across the square.
After several minutes, he said, “I know this is going to sound crass and totally devoid of respect for the entire situation, but…” He sighed. “Quinn, I’m afraid we could be in some real trouble here.”
A wave of cold rushed through me, even though it was warm outside. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t know what the detectives said to you, but they made it pretty clear to me that I’m Suspect Number One and you’re Suspect Number Two.”
My jaw dropped. “What? We’re suspects now?” I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Sure, Detective Flynn had accused me of killing Jason, but as nasty as his tone had been, I thought it was part of his brand of routine questioning. “But…last night they said I was only…only a person of interest! Not that being a person of interest is a particularly good thing, but still. And they told me nothing of what they thought about you.”
Drew grimaced. “What did you think they’d think when you told them Jason and I had been fighting over our failing restaurant?”
Southern Discomfort Page 4
