Roses and Revenge

by London Lovett

  Hilda, the retired police woman who ran the front desk in Port Danby's police station, looked as frazzled as Officer Chinmoor as she poked her head up to see who had entered.

  "Oh, hello, Lacey," she sighed. "Can you believe this hullabaloo?" She pushed from her chair and dropped her voice. "Detective Briggs is so angry about the chaos out on the sidewalk. You know he hates to have things interfere with his investigation, and hoards of news crews certainly does that. There were even news helicopters circling the town so low they were setting off car alarms and causing every dog in the neighborhood to howl."

  "Yes, they made my whole house shake." I glanced past the counter to Briggs' office. His door was shut. "I hate to ask, Hilda, but do you think I could have a quick word with him? That is, if he isn't angry like a bear right now."

  Hilda laughed. "Let me check." She knocked and went into Briggs' office. She emerged a few seconds later and walked to the buzzer to let me in. "Enter at your own risk," she whispered as I walked past.

  Detective Briggs was sitting behind his desk, writing something on a report form as I walked in. Normally he would look up from his task and offer me a smile, but today he kept on writing. I walked to the chair in front of his desk and sat down.

  He wrote a few more words and put down the pen before finally lifting his face. "Miss Pinkerton, I want to thank you again for your assistance yesterday with the Edmonton murder case." There was nothing I disliked more than Briggs talking to me in a formal, all-business manner. We'd spent far too much time together for such a starched conversation. I decided to ignore his manner and jumped right into my speech.

  "I'm not entirely sure Jacob should be sitting here based solely on my assumptions that the odors on the pillow were from his cologne and clove cigarettes. There is a very good chance that I'm wrong."

  His jaw shifted ever so slightly. "So you think your nose, the same nose that smelled the faintest scent of fresh cut lumber on a victim in the middle of a fishing pier in the dead of a winter storm mis-smelled?"

  "For the record, I don't think mis-smelled is an actual term, and when you put it that way, it does sound as if I'm grasping at straws." It seemed the ice had been broken. His expression softened, and the stiffness in his shoulders melted.

  I sat forward. "None of it makes sense. You've no doubt noticed, as Hilda called it, the hullabaloo out front. And I do think that word should come back in style. It's so much fun to say."

  "I prefer brouhaha, but continue." Briggs leaned back and rested an arm on his chair, his silent gesture to let me know he was listening with an open mind. The pressure was on me to make a good case, but in truth I didn't have much.

  "Jacob would never do anything that would shroud his family's company in bad publicity. Especially nothing so horrid as a murder."

  "They say any publicity is good publicity. Just look at all the free advertisement he's getting this morning."

  "While that is partially true, I hardly think killing off the much-adored model, who represents romance and passion for the company, is going to go over well with his customers. Jasper was arrogant and smug, but he had a huge fan base. There just wouldn't be any motive at all for Jacob to kill him."

  "Except for the good old stand-by motive of jealousy." Briggs sat forward again and touched his notepad. "I had more than one of his employees tell me that Jacob was unhappy because Autumn and Jasper had been especially playful during the photograph sessions. Apparently, the two models had a relationship at one point in time."

  "And what did Autumn, the female model, have to say? Because, frankly, I saw a photo shoot, and it seemed pretty obvious that she was just playing a game, trying to make Jacob jealous. Only I think Jacob is a bit past the game playing stage in his life." I thought I was doing a good job making my case, but my words only seemed to make his shoulders stiffen again. I could see that formal wall going up between us.

  He opened his notepad. "I didn't realize you were a witness. I should have interviewed you too, it seems." He wrote a few things down. "So you saw the flirtations between the two models and your ex—" He cleared his throat. "Your ex-boss was there to witness it too?"

  I was thrown off by my sudden drop into the role of witness. I scooted on the chair to straighten my posture and regain my confidence. "Yes, I was there the previous morning. I'd followed Kingston up to the site. He flew up there to see what the—brouhaha was about." I winked at him. "Kingston knows that where there are people there are crumbs. But I digress. I walked up there to make sure Kingston was behaving himself and to say hello to all my old friends. Lydia, the photographer, was shooting pictures of Jasper and Autumn. They seemed to be having a good time with it. But Jacob was—"

  "A good time? Could you elaborate?"

  My earlier straight posture crumpled some. "I don't know, Detective Briggs. They were giggling and tickling each other. Jacob looked a bit like an angry rooster on the sidelines, but frankly, I think he was more miserable about his cold than about what was happening in front of the camera."

  Briggs looked up at me. "You'll have to excuse me if I don't write the last part down because it's just conjecture on your part."

  I stared at him, making sure to let him know I wasn't happy. Then I abruptly broke out of my role as witness. "Oh come on, Briggs, let's stop acting like we don't know each other. I'm not just some witness cold called off the street to answer questions. I'm the one who pointed out crucial evidence in a murder case. Just like I've done three times before."

  "Evidence, it seems, you regret finding."

  "Why did you just say it like that?"

  "Like what?" It seemed we'd both broken out of formal character. "I'm just pointing out that you seem to regret having to implicate your ex—your ex-boss in a murder."

  "Stop with that dramatic pause thing," I huffed. "You can say it, ex-fiancé. Jacob is my ex-fiancé. If you call my mom, she'll tell you how much she wished I'd stuck with him, even if he was wearing another woman's perfume on his shirt collar." I sat back. "Shoot. I'm just a chatty bird today, aren't I?" I scooted forward again. "Please let me talk to Jacob."

  I put up my hand before he could say no.

  "Ten minutes. Please. I'll be his one phone call, only it'll be face to face."

  "He already had his phone call. It was to his father."

  "So you've charged him?"

  "Not officially, but everyone who gets pulled in for questioning always thinks they are owed that phone call. So I let them call. I'm waiting for confirmation that the cologne we found in Jacob's trailer is the scent on the pillow. And he won't answer any more questions without his lawyer present. Which, under the circumstances, is probably a smart move."

  "James." I took a chance and used his real name. It seemed to soften his expression. "Please, just ten minutes."

  A long silent pause followed. Then Briggs reached into his drawer and pulled out a set of keys. "Five minutes but the whole conversation will be considered off the record. Just a friend consoling a friend. You can keep whatever is said between you."

  "Agreed."

  Chapter 20

  Jacob was sitting in the Port Danby interrogation room, which was really just a small room with a table, two chairs and a bench sitting beneath a window that looked out onto the street. A slightly crooked mini blind had been hung over the window. Several of the slats were missing, allowing a thin plank of sunlight into the room. There were no brutal looking interrogation lights hanging over the table like one might expect. In fact, the glass globe light that was positioned near the back of the room provided only a pale greenish glow.

  Someone had brought Jacob one of Franki's three eggs and bacon breakfast plates and a coffee, but the food was mostly untouched. A box of tissue and pile of throat lozenges were sitting next to the plate of food.

  Jacob was surprised to see me walk inside, but he was so sick and depressed, he hardly blinked an eye. I wasn't sure how much Briggs had told him about the scent on the pillow, but I was sure he'd mentioned his reaso
ns for bringing Jacob in for questioning.

  With that thought in my head, I sat gingerly on the chair across from him. I held my breath for a second, waiting to see if he'd tell me to get out. Instead, he plucked another throat lozenge from the pile and unwrapped it.

  "I'm not mad at you, Lacey," he finally said. "I know you were just doing your job." He laughed. "Oh wait. It's not your job because you're not a damn forensic investigator."

  "So that first mention of not being mad was sarcasm? Got it. And you're right, it's not my job. I've made myself and my nose useful in a few investigations, and the detective occasionally asks my opinion."

  He shifted the lozenge back and forth in his mouth. "Is there a thing happening between you two?"

  "Ugh, maybe this was a mistake."

  "Right. Why are you here?"

  "If you must know, I came here this morning to tell Briggs that contrary to evidence, I don't believe you had anything to do with Jasper's murder." Right then, loud voices on the sidewalk vibrated the window.

  "What a Podunk little town. How do you keep your sanity around here? Look at this silly interrogation room."

  "If you'd prefer to be sitting in between four cement walls with a one way window and painfully bright lights overhead, maybe you could request a harsher environment. But I think the breakfast, tissue and lozenges would be forbidden in a city police station." I sat forward feeling slightly sick that I'd be spending my five minutes on defense. "Jacob, I know you don't feel well and the situation seems dire at the moment, but stop being such a grump and talk to me. It's just you and me off the record. I don't work for the police."

  His brow arched, and rightfully so.

  "All right. I occasionally lend them my nose to sniff out clues, but this is just you and me talking. Where were you during the murder? Do you have any possible alibi?"

  "Only if the bed in my trailer can talk. I felt awful. When the rain started to fall and Lydia called off the shoot, I trudged back to my trailer alone. I took some cold medicine, and I climbed into bed. I didn't wake up until I heard Alexander yelling that something was wrong with Jasper."

  "Is that all you remember?" I'd been so thrown off by finding evidence that pointed to Jacob that I hadn't asked Briggs any of the usual details.

  "Yes." Jacob put both elbows on the table and rested his forehead against the palms of his hands. "I didn't kill him," he muttered and then sat back. "I didn't kill him. Jasper was a pain, but he was pure gold when it came to selling Georgio's Perfume." The noise outside rattled the window again. "Why would I want to sabotage my own company? The publicity is going to ruin us."

  "That's what I told Detective Briggs. He says some of the others claimed you were jealous because Autumn and Jasper seemed to be rekindling their relationship. Unfortunately, crimes of passion are very common."

  Jacob grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose. "I wasn't jealous, and they weren't rekindling a relationship. That motive won't stick no matter how many ways they throw it at me."

  "How can you be so sure?"

  Jacob fingered the piece of toast on the plate. "I'm sure, but it's not anything I can talk about yet. I'm waiting for clarification from Baxter Redmond. He's supposed to be on his way. My dad is probably on his death bed with a stroke right now. Can't believe this has happened. I decided to go along on this trip just to get away from the office." He paused and looked down at the plate before lifting his face to me. "And to find out what town had ensnared you and charmed you into forsaking your perfumer's career for good. I stand by my Podunk comment."

  "One person's Podunk is another person's paradise, and I'm not here to talk about Port Danby. How did your cologne get on the pillow that was allegedly used to smother Jasper?"

  Jacob gave his head a sad shake. "No idea. I'm the only person who uses that fragrance. The chemists make me a bottle every four months. I can't remember the last time I stood in Jasper's trailer."

  "And clove cigarettes? Who else smokes those?"

  "No one. Including me at the moment. Yesterday morning my throat was on fire from the cold. I couldn't even think about lighting up a cigarette. But the detective found a barely used clove cigarette in my ashtray. I just couldn't remember lighting it."

  "I have one other theory but don't be angry. Autumn and you are an item." I added a fleeting look of disapproval. (They really weren't right for each other.) "Is it possible that during—during any physical contact, a passionate kiss, for example that your cologne and the smell of cloves rubbed off on Autumn's clothing? There is a great deal of evidence to show she was in the trailer just before he died."

  "Normally, it would have been possible. But Autumn has been staying far away from me with this cold. A runny nose doesn't make for a stunning photo shoot."

  A knock sounded on the door, and Hilda popped her head inside. "Miss Pinkerton, Detective Briggs told me to let you know your time is up." She cast me a polite smile and stepped back out while I said good bye.

  I stood up. "Jacob, I'm sorry that my nose sniffed out two clues that implicated you in Jasper's murder, but if it's any consolation, I truly do not think that you killed him."

  He nodded at me. "Maybe you could tell that to your boyfriend with the notepad and black detective coat."

  "Careful there, Mr. Georgio. I'm beginning to think you're jealous of my new life and my friends with notepads."

  "Maybe a little," he said quietly and very unexpectedly.

  Before I turned to leave, something he'd said struck me again. "So you have proof that you were not jealous of Jasper and Autumn, but you can't say what that proof is until you talk to your lawyer?"

  "Yes, that's right. I know it sounds strange, but hopefully, I'll be able to at least throw a plausible wrench into your detective friend's jealousy theory."

  Hilda opened the door. "Briggs told me—"

  "Yes, I'm sorry, Hilda. I'm leaving right now."

  Chapter 21

  I walked out of the interrogation room and through the hallway to the front counter. While I waited for Hilda to catch up and buzz me through, Briggs opened his office door.

  "Miss Pinkerton, I need to talk to you before you leave."

  I hadn't planned to stop in to see him on my way out. "I need to open the shop."

  "This won't take long. I have some information about the evidence in the case."

  "Already? Yes, I'd be interested to hear." Of course, I was terrified to hear at the same time, but I kept that to myself. I walked into his office, and he shut the door. His mood seemed somewhat grave, which made my stomach tighten.

  He walked to his desk but rather than sit down at it, he leaned against the front of it. "The coroner has confirmed that the cause of death was suffocation, and the victim's saliva was on the pillow we found at the scene. We can conclude that it was the murder weapon. That was why the clay from the mask was on the pillow. Nate hasn't gotten all the results back from toxicology yet so we'll know more then." He stopped and waited for my response.

  "I suppose no big surprises there."

  "There's more. As usual, your nose was correct. The fragrance on the pillow matched Jacob Georgio's custom cologne. The pillow also tested positive for clove cigarette. Things aren't looking great for Jacob."

  "But you still don't have a motive and this murder will destroy his business."

  "Jealousy can make people do crazy things," he said it almost as if he could verify that personally.

  "Jacob was not jealous of Jasper. We just talked about it in—"

  He put up his hand. "No, remember, that conversation was off the record. Once the lawyer arrives, Mr. Georgio can answer questions." He pushed up from his desk and walked toward me. I wasn't loving the look on his face. It assured me I wasn't going to like the next thing he said.

  "Miss Pinkerton, I appreciate your help with the evidence but I'm going to have to ask you to stay clear of this investigation from this point forward."

  I crossed my arms abruptly and then quickly uncrossed them to not look l
ike an angry kid. "I can separate my personal connections from the case. I think I should have a sniff around the trailers again. Maybe I can find that cologne in another place. Autumn's clothing perhaps." Briggs stepped even closer, closer than we'd been since we nearly kissed under the mistletoe. "Lacey," he said in a deep, serious tone, "I need you to step back from this case. I gave you the coroner's information today, but from this point on, I won't be giving out any other details."

  It felt as if I'd been hit in the stomach and had the breath knocked out of me. My silent, stunned response made him place his hand against the side of my arm. I stepped out of his reach.

  "I understand, Detective Briggs." I made a point of lifting my chin to convince him that I was fine. Even though I clearly wasn't. "Good luck with your investigation. I might head up to the site later just to check on all my friends. If that's all right?" I asked in a snippy tone. I couldn't seem to erase just how hurt I was. "Or am I not allowed to see them?"

  "Lacey, you're overreacting."

  "No, I don't think I am. But thank you for informing me, Detective Briggs. Now I have a real job to attend to, not just one that I do voluntarily."

  "And you've been a big help to me, Miss Pinkerton." He'd switched back to Miss Pinkerton, which only made me feel worse. "As it is, I stretch a lot of rules and ignore protocol to have you assist on the murder cases. You have to see how having you help out on a case where you know the victim and the main person of interest would be pushing the boundaries even more. And I don't think it would be wise for you emotionally. I can already see how this case has upset you."

  "I'm tougher than you think," I insisted firmly, although the slight waver in my voice made a mockery of my words. "Good day, Detective Briggs." Again I lifted my chin, as I spun around and strode purposefully away. My confident departure was cut short when I met with the blasted security gate at the counter. I stood there stiffly, not turning to look at him as I waited the few awkward moments for him to buzz me through.