“No,” Nick said. “She doesn’t.”
The sheriff leaned back in her chair. “We’ve gotten off track. Let’s start from the beginning. How did you come to be in that alley?”
I looked to Nick. “I stopped for coffee at Ground. I almost always park in the alley and come through the kitchen door, and that’s what I did this morning.”
“Did you notice anything when you arrived?”
“No. Everything seemed normal. I went inside, had a coffee, did some work, and left out the rear exit. I saw some papers blowing around and picked them up, took them to the garbage bins. That’s when I saw Ely.”
“It’s not Ely,” the sheriff said, “but go on.”
“I called 9-1-1, and then I called Nick.”
“Called your lawyer? Why?”
“Miss Bonheim is a lawyer too,” Nick said. “She knows you shouldn’t talk to the police without legal representation, no matter how innocent you are.”
I nodded, mute. It wasn’t true. I’d called Nick, because I’d wanted him. I looked away and studied the wall. An uneven section in the center had been recently re-plastered.
“Why did you put the letters in your purse?” the sheriff asked.
“I didn’t—”
“She’s already answered that, Sheriff,” Nick said. “I believe you have her prints from the earlier investigation of Ground and Alicia Duarte’s death?”
“Alicia Duarte’s murder,” the sheriff corrected. “And yes, we do.”
“Then you won’t be needing them again when you check those letters for prints. I assume you still have Ely Milbourne’s prints on file.”
“That man is not Ely Milbourne. He’s too young.”
“If you don’t compare those prints, and you charge my clients, I’ll have one of our experts do it. Now if Miss Bonheim has answered all your questions, we’ll be going.”
“She hasn’t answered all my questions. Not by a long shot.”
He relaxed in the chair, stretching his legs beneath the table. Nick folded his hands across his abs. “Then ask away.”
I let them have at it. Nick had an answer for everything. Even when he was stonewalling, everything he said sounded reasonable. I couldn’t help admiring him.
The sheriff was no slouch either. No surprise there — she’d have to be one tough cookie after what her crook of a husband had put her through. I tried to imagine being sheriff and learning your husband had committed a crime, was going to jail. But afterward, McCourt had dusted herself off, run for sheriff again. And won. I wasn’t sure if I should respect or be terrified of the woman.
“Why did you go to the café?” McCourt asked me.
“She answered that,” Nick said in a bored tone.
“Where was your sister all this time?”
“How should she know?” Nick said. “She’s not her sister’s keeper, and it would be useless for her to speculate.”
“Why did you pick up these letters?”
“Wouldn’t you pick up trash around your sister’s place of business?” Nick asked.
“I’m asking Miss Bonheim, not you.”
“And she’s not going to answer any more redundant questions. She’s offered you more than enough — the letters, a lead to the man’s identity, even a possible motive for his assault on Mrs. Duarte.”
“His assault? If that guy killed Alicia Duarte, then who killed him?”
“Good question,” Nick said. “Are we done here?”
The sheriff’s lip curled. “Get out of here. But don’t leave town.”
My muscles twitched. Don’t leave town? The cliché would have been funny, if the sheriff’s expression hadn’t been so dire.
Rising, Nick took my arm and steered me outside. “I suppose your car is at Ground. I’ll give you a lift.”
He led me through the parking lot and opened the passenger side of a black SUV.
I got in, and he closed the door, walked to the driver’s side, slid inside. “Ground?”
“Could you take me to my aunt’s house?” I turned on my phone. As expected, I’d missed calls from my sisters. No messages. None of us liked leaving messages.
He started the car, and I dialed Lenore.
“We were wondering if you’d skipped out on us,” Lenore said.
“No. I was with the police.”
“The police?” Lenore’s voice sharpened. “What happened?”
“It’s a long story. I’m on my way to Ellen’s now. Nick’s giving me a ride. We’ll explain when we get there.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I’ll be there soon.”
We said goodbye, and I hung up.
Nick turned the SUV down a tree-lined street, passing clapboard houses and the park. A small girl twirled on the bandstand, shouting and laughing, listening to the echoes of her own voice.
“What are the ethics of you representing both my sister and me?” I asked.
“Murky, since your sister hasn’t agreed to it, and since I’d like to date you.”
“Date me?”
“Look, I won’t say another word if you don’t want me to. But I can’t tell if you’re not interested, or if you’re just terrible at this romance stuff.”
I was a romance writer! I was red hot at romance. On paper. Okay. So I was romantically challenged.
“My timing’s rotten,” he said. “Your aunt’s illness, your sister... But I wanted to tell you how I felt in case—”
“In case?”
“I could get run over by a bus tomorrow.”
“Not in Doyle.” I laughed, lightheaded. “We don’t have any buses.”
“Look, there’s another lawyer in my firm. She can represent you if I’ve made you uncomfortable. She probably should represent you. I’ll explain to Jayce—”
“Jayce won’t mind if you represent us both,” I said. “Unless you think it’s a bad idea.”
“Do you mind?”
“No.” The blood pounded in my ears. This couldn’t be happening. I wasn’t a teenager, falling in love at the drop of a hat, but I couldn’t deny that I felt it too. I’d felt it from the beginning. What was it about him? Sure he was successful and sexy. I couldn’t deny that. But his humor, his quest for his sister, his loyalty to family… That had touched me. “This is possibly the worst ask for a date ever, but… I accept.”
He grinned. “Thanks.”
Wait, had I asked him? Or had he asked me? We shouldn’t be talking about this, not after finding a body and being interrogated by the sheriff. But he wanted me, and I wanted him, and in spite of the hell we were in the middle of, I wasn’t willing to lose this feeling. “But…” I made a helpless gesture. “I can’t trust this. I can’t trust anything I feel right now. Not with everything that’s happening.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t drag you home to meet the parents anytime soon.” Abruptly, his expression shifted, and I knew he was remembering his sister.
“Nick—”
“And about your legal question,” he said, all business. “You called, I was nearby. Like I said, there’s another lawyer in my firm who can represent you, if it comes to that. Hopefully it won’t.”
I looked out the window. He didn’t want to talk about his missing sister, and I wouldn’t push. How could I? We were dating, and my aunt was dying, and my sister was a murder suspect. How could I feel so happy and so awful all at the same time?
Houses flashed past. The spaces between them grew wider — long driveways and white fences, twisted oaks and clusters of wild flowers.
“The man was Ely’s double,” I said. “Even beneath all that dirt, you could see it. His eyes… There’s a connection to Alicia’s murder. There has to be. The sheriff can’t ignore those letters signed by Alicia.”
“Signed by an Alicia.”
“Do you think it’s a coincidence? A man identical to Ely Milbourne and surrounded by teen love letters from a girl named Alicia? But that old scandal was over twenty years ago. If he wanted
to kill Alicia because of it, why not do it then?”
“I’m playing devil’s advocate,” he said, “which is exactly what the DA will do. Maybe the scandal has nothing to do with their deaths. Maybe he was in the alley and saw someone, and Alicia’s killer had to silence him.”
That wouldn’t clear Jayce from suspicion. I tugged on a hank of my hair. The sheriff could argue that Ely had seen Jayce, or that no one else had been in the alley when Alicia was killed, and so Jayce must be guilty.
“But I like the way you think,” he said.
“You sure spend a lot of time arguing against it.”
One corner of his mouth slanted upward. “You see things differently than others, don’t you?”
Right. It came from being the weak magical link in a family of powerful witches.
“Where was Jayce while you were at the café today?” he asked. “At your aunt’s house?”
“Yeah.” Worried, I bounced my foot. Earlier, Jayce had been at her apartment. Right above the alley.
He pulled into Ellen’s driveway and killed the ignition. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lied and slid from the car.
The door to Ellen’s porch flew open, and Jayce jammed her hands on her hips. “Where have you been?” She looked up, taking in Nick. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“There’s been a development.” Nick glanced over his shoulder. Sunlight streamed through the oak sheltering the vehicles, dappling their slick paint. “Jayce, can I have a word?”
Jayce’s expression turned anxious. “All right.” She led Nick into the dining area, shutting the barn-like, rolling door behind them.
Trying not to feel left out, I walked to Ellen’s bedroom and set my purse on the bureau. Our aunt lay sleeping, a pained wheeze issuing from her throat. I rubbed my arms, my chest tightening.
Lenore rose from the wing chair beside the bed and motioned to me. We tiptoed to the kitchen.
“We were worried,” Lenore said in a low voice. “Are you all right?”
“I found a body behind Ground.” I explained — the body, the letters, the sheriff’s station, Nick.
Lenore combed her fingers through her blond hair, loose about her shoulders. “Jayce went back to her apartment today. They’ll suspect her of this murder too.”
“Nick’s with her now,” I said. “They’re probably going over strategy if the sheriff calls her in for questioning.”
“They can’t,” Lenore said, her voice sharp. “Not now.”
My heart rabbited. “Ellen?”
Lenore stared at the window over the sink. “Any day now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The next morning, I dressed in a slim, suede-colored skirt and white blouse. My movements were restless, uneven. I slid my bare feet into low heels and drove to my office.
The world didn’t stop while I hovered over Ellen’s sick bed. Bills had to be paid, clients appeased. I’d delayed too many appointments, ignored too many e-mails. And my writing? With no hard deadlines approaching, my writing had come to a dead stop. Someday, I’d chuck it all and write romance novels full time. But for now, lawyering was half my income, and I needed that half.
The three-story building where I kept a temporary office was shiny black glass. I pulled into a space and clacked across the tarmac, my over-sized bag slung over my shoulder.
The building’s interior hallway was modern — white walls and bamboo floors. The muted colors of its abstract art were designed to excite and offend no one. I collected the key from the receptionist and walked to my office for the day. The simple room had windows facing the parking lot, a desk, a printer, and three chairs. I set up my laptop computer, laid out the documents, and my first clients arrived.
They were simple to deal with, a couple creating a trust. All they wanted was to play it safe, make sure the i’s were dotted and the t’s were crossed. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I was good at that stuff. We reviewed the details, I brought out my notary book, called in the receptionist to witness the trust, and they signed.
My next client was more difficult, a middle-aged woman and the executor of her mother’s estate. Her two siblings were squabbling over every nickel and dime.
“They think I cheated them.” She moaned, rubbing her forehead. “But I took care of my mom for years. She wanted to give me an extra share.”
“I know she did,” I said, my tone soothing. When someone died, it could bring out the best or the worst in families. Refereeing the arguments was a part of the job I hated. “I drew up your mother’s trust. She was very clear, and she was of sound mind. Your mother appreciated everything you did for her.” My chest squeezed. Was I doing enough for my aunt? I should be at Ellen’s now, not here. But the appointment had been made weeks ago, and I had other obligations that Ellen wouldn’t want me to ditch. I smiled tightly. “Now let’s talk about the truck your brother is so mad about…”
I’d arranged for my third client to arrive last, because the elderly lady was lonely and tended to ramble. She’d changed her mind on who got what. Again. The jewelry should now go to her nephew, Francis, because his wife would love it. And the TV should go to his son, Pete. And, and, and.
I nodded and smiled, taking notes. The lady was a borderline hoarder. None of her things were worth much, but they were important to her. This was the fifth change to the will, and the lady was enjoying the process. I hoped we’d both live to see the thing finalized.
An hour and a half later, I escorted the lady from the office and checked my watch. It was well after lunch, and my stomach rumbled, hollow. I flopped into the chair behind the desk and called Jayce.
“Hey, Karin.”
“I’m done and thought I’d grab some lunch. Can I bring anything home for you guys? Does Ellen want anything?”
“Lenore and I already ate. Ellen picked at her food and fell asleep. She didn’t eat more than a bite, and I’m not even sure about the bite. Under normal circumstances, I’d be worried, but…”
But. It didn’t matter if Ellen ate, not anymore.
Blinking away tears, I forced my voice to steady. “Have you heard anything about the case?” Or from Nick?
Jayce blew out her breath. “The case is all I’ve been hearing about. I spent the morning at the sheriff’s station.”
“What?” I started forward in my chair. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. They asked questions, and my fearless lawyer answered them.” She paused. “But I could see they didn’t believe my alibi. Who can blame them? I was right upstairs, in my apartment over the alley, and I didn’t see or hear a damned thing.”
“Maybe he was killed after you left. I didn’t notice him when I first walked into Ground. The sheriff should have the time of death by now, shouldn’t she?”
“If she does, she’s not talking.”
“Okay, I’ll be right home.”
“No rush. Lenore took over while I was out, and now I’m in charge at the house while she runs an errand. I’ll take the day shift as long as you’re here for the evening?”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “You must be exhausted after dealing with the police.”
“I’m sure. All Ellen’s doing is sleeping. But there’s something comforting about being here, you know?”
I knew. “Okay, I’ll see you later. If you need anything—”
“I’ll call.”
We hung up.
I packed my things, returned the key to the receptionist, and got into my Fusion. There was a sandwich shop on Main, and I drove there. The street thronged with pedestrians and traffic. I crept past the shops, parking on the dirt shoulder beside an old barn that had been converted to a wine tasting room. Grabbing purse and keys, I stepped out, crossing to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.
Nick emerged from Sunny’s realty office. I stopped short, narrowly avoiding a collision.
“Nick.” I glanced at the window, cluttered with flyers for homes for sale and vacation ren
tals. “Looking for a new house?” My breath quickened at the thought he might be moving here. Embarrassed, I looked everywhere but at him – at a pickup driving slowly past, a couple walking a dog, the branches of the elm waving in the breeze across the road.
“No,” he said, “I stopped in to see Sunny. She took charge of the search when my sister went missing. She was pretty terrific.”
Huh. That was a new way of looking at the realtor. I tended to think of her first as determined, next friendly, but only because she wanted a commission. I pulled my hair forward, brushed it behind my ears. I’d been unfair to Sunny, again. I didn’t want my aunt to sell her house to Sunny or anyone, because it was home in a way my bungalow would never be. But Sunny wasn’t the enemy. “I had no idea.”
“Most of the town turned out. Your aunt too.”
I blinked. And I hadn’t known that either. “You knew my aunt? Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
“The search — everything that happened when Emily disappeared — seemed… private.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Is my aunt why you took Jayce’s case, why you’ve been helping us?”
“No.” He stepped closer, his gray eyes darkening. “I didn’t realize the connection when Jayce called me. And you know how I feel about you,” he said in a low voice.
Confused, I looked at the street. A pickup rattled past.
“Bad timing,” he said, stepping away. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s not… I was away at grad school when your sister disappeared.” Emily had disappeared in July. My sisters and I had taken a meandering road trip home that month, criss-crossing the United States. So much had happened while I’d been away. “I thought I knew this town, that it was home, but there are so many layers and connections I was unaware of.”
“Are there?”
Something in his voice put me on alert.
He gazed at me, intent, and a surge of electricity shot through my veins.
“I want to take you somewhere,” he said.
My heart leapt. Wrong, wrong, wrong. “I have to be home in a few hours. My aunt—”
“Only to Angels Camp. Have you had lunch?”
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