An Alpaca Witness

by B L Crumley

  “Well, I haven’t been arrested if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Another smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. A mouth that I really shouldn’t be focusing on. “No, I didn’t think you had been. We’ll need them for when we analyze the case, so we can rule yours out.”

  “Gotcha. I can come down to the station this afternoon,” I offered.

  “Tomorrow is fine. Thank you, ladies.” He turned and continued toward the gate on the side of the house.

  Fern gave me a nudge and tilted her head, implying I should follow him. “What for?” I whispered.

  She gave an impish grin. “It’s almost dinner time. Invite him to stay.”

  I was not going to chase after Cole like some infatuated girl. Even though a small part of me wanted to. “He’s working.”

  Fern rolled her eyes and marched back to the house.

  I blew out a deep breath. It had been a productive day. I’d talked with Patty and uncovered important evidence that I believed would help the police solve their case. I should be feeling good.

  But when Cole walked away, I found myself feeling disappointed, which was ridiculous. We weren’t anything or going to be anything. I needed to hurry up and figure out who killed Earl so I could get back to my life in Portland.

  Except that after spending several days here, I realized I didn’t even miss it. I wasn’t going to take time to reflect on what that meant. Because my life wasn’t here, nor was it ever going to be with Cole. And I’d be wise not to forget that.

  Chapter Eight

  After getting fingerprinted at the police station first thing the next morning, I drove to Russell Jenkins’ insurance office, unoriginally named Jenkins’ Insurance. His office was located in an older strip mall in the north part of town. The building was in desperate need of a paint job, not to mention some curb appeal. Perhaps this is what my mother hoped to tackle with her Rockfish Bay beautification project. Good luck with that, Mom.

  I arrived a few minutes before my nine o’clock appointment, and sat on an uncomfortable faded blue chair, perusing a home and lifestyle magazine from six years ago. It was one thing for the outside to be a wreck, but with the dour interior, it was no surprise that Earl didn’t get what he hoped to out of the business. If the office’s condition was any indicator of how successful they were, Earl should have been happy that Jenkins took this place off his hands.

  “Miss King.” The fifty-something woman behind the reception desk directed her attention toward me. “Mr. Jenkins will see you now. Straight through that door.” She pointed behind her.

  “Great, thank you.” I stood and walked down a very short hall and rapped lightly on the door.

  “Come in,” called a raspy male voice.

  I pushed the door open. Mr. Jenkins sat behind an older metal desk, not bothering to stand up or shake my hand. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties with salt-and-pepper hair. The same outdated furniture extended into this space as well. “Hi, Mr. Jenkins, I’m Charlee King. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

  “Sure, have a seat.” He gestured to another faded blue chair across from him. “Are you here about car insurance? Or homeowner’s insurance perhaps?”

  “Oh, no,” I shook my head. When I’d made the appointment with the receptionist, I hadn’t specified the reason, and clearly, he assumed I was here to talk about insurance. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if he would agree to meet with me if I stated the actual reasons for my visit. “I wanted to ask you a few questions about Earl Henderson.”

  His thin lips stretched into a grimace as he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re Ben King’s daughter, right?”

  I nodded and smiled, hopefully convincingly. At least enough for him not to kick me out.

  “Why do you want to know about Earl?” He eyed me suspiciously.

  I decided on the truth. Okay, a partial truth. “Well, as you may have heard, I found the body in my aunt’s barn. I’m just trying to get a clearer picture of Earl to offer up some ideas on what might have happened.” I tried to sound as innocent and non-accusatory as possible.

  “You don’t think Fern killed him?”

  “No, of course not,” I responded sharply. “Do you?”

  “No. But I’ll tell you right now, I don’t a have clue what happened.” His demeanor relaxed slightly.

  “What can you tell me about your relationship with him?” I asked gently.

  “We worked together here for twenty-plus years, and then about three years ago, Earl wanted to retire so I bought him out,” Russell explained.

  “Did you get along?”

  He leaned forward in his chair. “Yes. Do you think I would have worked with him for that long if I didn’t?”

  I found his response interesting. Jenkins claimed they had an amicable relationship, but he didn’t seem bothered at all by Earl’s death, nor did he say they were friends. If, in fact, they had gotten along, shouldn’t he be a little more shaken up about Earl’s passing?

  “I heard you and Earl had a falling out when he sold you the business. Is that true?”

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “Not exactly. Look, this is a business. Earl thought it was worth a lot more than it was. So yeah, you could say he was disappointed.” He sighed, then added, “And I didn’t blame him. But I have to make a living, too.”

  Russell didn’t act like a man who was holding a grudge, but then it made more sense that Earl was the one who would have been bitter over the deal, not Jenkins.

  “Were you in town on Sunday night?” I questioned cautiously. I felt that was safer than asking where he was.

  He scowled. “Yes, at my house with my wife. All evening,” he emphasized. “Anything else?” His face turned a splotchy red, visibly upset.

  “I’m sorry.” I decided it was best to move on. It was a thin alibi, but there wasn’t anything I could do to refute it, unless I wanted to confirm with his wife, who would most likely agree with him.

  “Were the Hendersons having money issues?” I asked politely.

  He thought for a moment. “Not that I’m aware of. They live next to your aunt in a nice part of town. Do they seem destitute to you?” I sensed an edge of hostility in his tone. Like he begrudged them. But then, that could also be directed toward me.

  “Do you know if Earl had an insurance policy?”

  “Probably.” He tapped his fingers on the metal desk. “But Earl handled his own stuff even after he retired. To be honest, Earl has always been cheap. He probably had some decreasing term policy that wouldn’t be worth much now anyway.”

  “So, you don’t think an insurance payout for Patty is a likely motive?” I didn’t believe it was, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

  He shook his head. “Like I said, if there is a policy, it’s probably not worth much. And as far as I can tell, they had a decent marriage. Not that anyone knows for sure what goes on behind closed doors, but I doubt Patty killed her husband.”

  I felt relieved at his belief in Patty’s innocence, confirming what I had suspected. “Do you have any idea who might have had a reason to kill Earl? Any other friends or relatives he had issues with?”

  “Now that you mention it, Earl has a younger brother who’s had a few run-ins with the law. Petty stuff, but he hangs out with some rough guys. Maybe he got Earl involved in one of his shady operations and things went south,” he proposed.

  My mind veered to the suitcase full of cash. Was Earl caught up in something illegal? It didn’t fit with what I’d learned about the victim so far, but at this point I wasn’t going to rule anything out. “What’s his brother’s name? Is he local?”

  “Yeah, his name’s Floyd, and he works down at the cannery.”

  I cringed, and Russell gave me an odd look. “Thank you, Mr. Jenkins.” I stood and forced a smile. “You’ve been very helpful,
and I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me.”

  “Sure, no problem,” he said, giving me a partial grin.

  “If you happen to think or hear of anything else, would you please give me a call?” I handed him one of my business cards from my coat pocket. “My cell number is on the back.”

  He flipped it over and nodded.

  “Thank you again.” I gave him a brief wave and a parting smile before leaving.

  Overall, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of Russell Jenkins. He didn’t seem to harbor any ill will toward his former business partner, but he wasn’t distraught over Earl’s death either. Maybe he wasn’t an emotional guy. And since he didn’t appear to have a reason to kill him, I needed to direct my attention to Floyd Henderson, Earl’s brother.

  Unfortunately, Floyd worked at the cannery, which was owned by Kenny’s family. Talking to Floyd at work was the safest option, in light of what Russell had said about him. Hopefully, when I did, I wouldn’t run into Kenny or any of the other Millers.

  When I arrived back at Fern’s from meeting with Mr. Jenkins, my aunt wasn’t home. I couldn’t remember what she had going on today, but I needed to get ready for my lunch date with Preston.

  Correction: just lunch. Not a date. The socially awkward attorney had both called and texted asking to take me out before I returned to Portland.

  After what he’d done for Fern, I didn’t feel right about saying no. And lunch was more casual than dinner, less date-like, and I knew Preston had to be in court at one o’clock, which meant our time together would only be about an hour. A win-win in my book.

  On my way upstairs to take a shower, I stopped by the laundry room to switch the clothes into the dryer. I was in desperate need of a clean pair of jeans, or clean pair of any pants actually. After my shower I threw on a black tank top and a pair of running shorts while I blow dried my hair and put on some makeup.

  Yeah, yeah, I know it’s not a date, but I needed to at least look presentable. In the middle of curling my naturally wavy/frizzy brown hair, the doorbell rang.

  “Please don’t let that be Preston,” I grumbled. Setting down the curling iron, I treaded down the stairs to answer the front door. I was ready to tell Preston that he was early, and I wasn’t ready… “Cole.” I blinked in surprise.

  He looked me up and down before settling on my face. His mouth was drawn tight. “Charlee, do you have a minute?” he asked seriously.

  Okay, so this wasn’t a social visit.

  “Yeah, sure. Come in.” I stepped aside so he could enter. “We can sit in the living room.” I took a step in that direction.

  “Here is fine.” He folded his muscled arms across his chest and scowled. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Excuse me?” I mimicked his stance.

  “You look like you’re getting ready for something,” he remarked coolly.

  Ah, so he’d noticed I looked better than normal. Although technically, he hadn’t given me a compliment.

  “Yes, I’m going to lunch,” I replied.

  “In shorts?” he glanced down.

  Was he checking out my legs?

  “No,” I replied. Was his brain shorting out? It was a damp forty-five degrees outside.

  “Right.” He shook his head as if to clear it and met my gaze again. “What do you think you were doing talking with Russell Jenkins?”

  My hands dropped to my sides. “How did you hear about that?” Good grief! News traveled fast in this town. It’d barely been an hour since I’d left the insurance office.

  “It doesn’t matter. The point is you had no business talking with a potential suspect,” he chastised.

  I held up my hand. “Now wait just a minute! How do you know I wasn’t there to talk with Mr. Jenkins about an insurance policy?”

  “Were you?” He tapped his foot impatiently on the wood floor.

  “Well…” I drew out the one-syllable word for about five seconds. “Not exactly.”

  “Charlee, what the heck are you doing interfering in a police investigation?” At his raised voice I took a step back. Menacing Cole had returned.

  “Who said anything about interfering?” I raised my tone to match his.

  “Charlee.” He blew out a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. I wondered if he was counting in his head again, trying to cool down so he didn’t blow up at me. Which really was not warranted, and it offended me that he thought I was trying to screw things up.

  “You need to stay out of this,” he eventually got out with slightly less frustration.

  “Or what?” I replied tauntingly. “Are you going to arrest me?” Okay, as soon as that left my mouth, I knew it was stupid, but this man seemed to bring out the worst in me.

  He took a step toward me, fire in his eyes. “Is that what you want?”

  Refusing to back down, I closed the space between us, looking him boldly in the eye. “No, Cole, I don’t. I’d like you to not come barging in here accusing me of interfering in your investigation. Because up to this point, I’d say I’ve done a pretty good job of helping.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

  “Yes.” I tipped my chin defiantly and held up my hand. “First,” I raised one finger, “I found Earl’s body. And second—”

  “But you—”

  “No, I’m not done yet,” I cut him off. “And second,” I repeated, and raised another finger. “I found a suitcase full of cash. Probably laundered, am I right?” I leaned a little closer.

  He wrapped his hand around mine, cutting off my train of thought. “Yes, you did both of those things,” he acknowledged, softening his voice, as he lowered my hand, but didn’t let go. “And while those two things were helpful—”

  “I sense a but coming.”

  He fought a smile. “You need to let me do my job.”

  “I am,” I said honestly. I was just… helping.

  “And I know you probably think you’re helping.” He was reading my mind now. “But you’re not.”

  I tugged my hand from his. I wanted to say that the only reason I was poking around was because I didn’t trust that he was going to find out who killed Earl, and that Fern would be blamed. Or even if Fern wasn’t blamed that they wouldn’t figure out who did it, and then there would be a murderer walking around free.

  That wouldn’t go over well for tourism here. Or my dad’s next election campaign. Not that he’d have any problem winning another uncontested race.

  “I am letting you do your job. And last I checked it wasn’t a crime to talk to people.” I tried to keep the defensiveness from my tone.

  “You’re right, it’s not. But this is a murder investigation, Charlee.” He was back in cop mode. “And this is about your safety. I would hate for something to happen to you.”

  I looked into his deep blue eyes, trying to gauge the sincerity of his words. He barely knew me. I had a hard time believing that he cared, even though part of me wanted him to. I think this was more about finding the killer and being hailed the hero again.

  And in the highly unlikely scenario that something did happen to me, that wouldn’t go over well with my parents. And let’s face it, everyone in Rockfish Bay knew that the Kings basically ran things around here.

  “I understand,” I replied neutrally.

  “Do you?” I could tell he didn’t believe me.

  “Yes,” I nodded. “I promise I will try my very best not to interfere in your investigation.”

  He tilted his head back and rolled his eyes. I smiled sweetly.

  The moment was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. “Excuse me,” I stepped around him and answered the door.

  “Preston, you’re early.” I winced when I realized how that sounded. “I mean, come in.”

  “Here, these are for you.” His mouth stretched into a wide grin as he handed
me a bouquet of red roses.

  Oh dear. I took them and forced a smile. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.” I turned and almost ran into a frowning Cole. “Oh, sorry.” I moved around him. “I need to put these in water.” His frown intensified.

  I headed to the kitchen, and behind me heard Preston ask, “Hello, Sheriff, what are you doing here?”

  “I just stopped by to speak with Charlee for a minute,” Cole answered.

  “Everything okay?” Preston sounded concerned.

  “Yes,” Cole said quickly.

  I definitely didn’t need the two of them chatting it up. With the flowers in water, I hurried back to the entry. “Are you ready for our date?” Preston took in my appearance.

  At the word date I did my best not to grimace, but couldn’t mistake the snort that came from Cole.

  “Almost,” I smiled cheerily, mortified inside. “I just need to put on some pants.” And finish curling my hair, but I guess a ponytail would have to do. With that, I spun on my heel and raced for the dryer. Behind me I heard Cole chuckle. I had a feeling I was going to hear about this later.

  Chapter Nine

  On the drive to the restaurant, Preston peppered me with questions. I really should have come up with a better reason to ensure we drove separate vehicles. But when I’d mentioned it, claiming I didn’t want him to be late for court, he’d insisted that he would have me back in plenty of time.

  And without another alternative, I’d politely agreed. However, being that this was my third social encounter for today, and all three had been endured under a certain amount of stress, I was developing a headache.

  “Charlee?”

  “Huh?” I turned my head and found Preston studying me. At least we were stopped at a light. I’d hate to get in a car accident too.

  “I asked what the sheriff talked with you about. If he was bothering you I can—”

  “Oh, no. He just had a couple of questions,” I offered vaguely. Questions sounded better than accusations.