The Double Wedding Ring

by Clare O'Donohue

  CHAPTER 48

  I had scanned all the photos that Maggie had given me on the night I’d stayed at Jesse’s, but I’d left them on his computer. I still needed to put them in order, turn it into a slide show, and transfer it to my computer. Plus, I had to confirm that the tables we were renting were going to be delivered on Friday afternoon, check on the flowers, and go over the last-minute details for the bachelorette party. But first, I had to share the good news.

  I headed straight to Jitters. Carrie and Bernie were there, drinking coffee and looking worried. But when I walked in, a big smile on my face, I could see them both relax.

  “Wedding’s back on?” Bernie asked.

  “It was never off.”

  Carrie made phone calls. I grabbed some breakfast and headed out across the street. Natalie was already there, waiting on customers and keeping things in order. She’d brought the baby, future quilter Emma, who was sleeping in a portable crib.

  “You don’t mind?” she asked.

  “Mind? She fits in perfectly.”

  “I was thinking I could do more hours if Emma can hang out in the office sometimes. Joey is in preschool, and they could keep him a bit longer on days my mom can’t babysit.”

  Obviously word of Eleanor’s three options for the shop had reached the group.

  Natalie had also finished her work on the gazebo quilt and it looked amazing. After I made the wedding-related calls, I sewed on the binding so that another task could be done. It was a beautiful quilt, and I was excited to be able to give it as a wedding gift.

  “You do realize you can’t give it to them,” Natalie said as if she had read my mind.

  “Why not?”

  “You want to turn this into a pattern, right? You need to have it around so you can figure out the shapes of each of the pieces, then you need to photograph it. Plus you’ll have to hang it in the store as a sampler quilt, so people can see what the finished piece will look like. A lot of local quilters are going to want this pattern because it’s Archers Rest.”

  I looked at it again. I’d made it as a wedding gift. I couldn’t keep it, could I? “I’ll take lots of photos of it, and make another one,” I said. “What’s one more quilt on the to-be-made list?”

  I wrapped the gift in wedding paper before I had a chance to change my mind.

  “Hey, there, old coworkers.” Kennette came into the shop with Greg trailing shyly behind. She had brought the gift every quilter could appreciate—fabric. She had found scraps in discount bins in a very fashionable fabric store in London. While we excitedly exchanged ideas about what to do with them, Greg darted out to Jitters.

  “I’ll just get a quick cup of coffee for the road,” he said.

  I nodded toward him, and was about to recommend the apple cinnamon muffin to go with it, but something caught in my throat. The thing that had been nagging at me finally became clear, and I felt suddenly sick. “Be right back,” I said to the ladies and followed Greg out the door. I tapped him on the back and he swung around, surprised. “You saw Roger,” I said.

  “Of course. I was at the crime scene.”

  “Before that.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  My heart was pounding. I pulled him away from the shop to a space across the street, in front of the empty storefront that had been Clark’s Dry Cleaners. I didn’t want to be overheard saying what I didn’t want to say.

  “You said that Roger had a cup of coffee in his hand. A few days ago when we were talking at Jitters.”

  “So what? You know he was in there before he went to Jesse’s house. Carrie can confirm that.”

  “Carrie said he had tea. Green tea to be exact. Every time I’ve heard the word tea in the last few days it’s bugged me and I couldn’t figure out why. It’s because you said he drank coffee.”

  “I must have gotten it wrong.”

  “It’s not that. You said that Roger couldn’t have been a good friend because he sat in his car drinking coffee and watching Jesse’s house. But there wasn’t a coffee cup in the car. You told me, twice, that the only things in the car were the notebook and the business card.”

  “So? Carrie must have told me.”

  “No. Carrie would have told you he was drinking tea. I know that you saw Roger that night, after he left Jitters with that to-go cup in his hand. You saw him. You assumed it was coffee, Greg. That’s where that detail came from. You saw him, and you haven’t said anything.”

  “Nell, stop . . .”

  I was shaking. It felt crazy to be thinking what I was thinking, but I also knew that Greg was hiding something. All along my gut had told me something was wrong, but I’d ignored it. It was just like Marshall had said about Jesse and Roger: friendship can be blinding.

  “You have access to keys to Jesse’s house,” I continued, unable to shut off the sudden torrent of suspicions. “He keeps a set at the station. You know how to shoot all kinds of weapons. You were the one who happened by when Dru’s car wouldn’t start and the one to check the car the next day after the shooting.

  “Nell, you’re jumping to conclusions. . . .”

  “I know, Greg,” I said, looking at a friend who had been a guest in Jesse’s home countless times in a frightening new light. “I just can’t figure out why. So I need you to please tell me the truth.”

  Greg frowned, but he nodded his head. “Okay, but I think you’ll see that I had no choice.”

  CHAPTER 49

  Greg wanted to go back to the police station, so that’s where we went, telling Kennette and Natalie that we had wedding business to attend to. Once we were there, we went into the interrogation room and closed the door.

  “I think Jesse is the best chief ever,” he said once I’d taken a seat. “He’s taught me everything I know, and on top of that, he’s a good man.”

  “I know that, Greg.” I sensed that he wasn’t going to be hurried, even though I desperately wanted to know the truth as quickly as possible, good news or bad. Sitting in that room I felt like I’d been hit with a two-by-four.

  “The night that Roger guy was murdered, you’re right. He came in here first. He must have come here from Jitters because he had that cup in his hand. And you’re right, I’m such a coffee freak, I just assumed it was coffee.”

  “He was looking for Jesse.”

  He nodded. “He seemed nervous. At first I thought he wanted to report a crime, so I said he could tell me and I would relay it to the chief, but he said he had personal business with Jesse.” He took a deep breath. “There was something in the way he said it that I could tell whatever the business was, it was bad. Jesse’s my friend. I only wanted to protect him.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I told him that Jesse wasn’t here. He asked me if Jesse still lived in the same house and I told him I couldn’t give out that information.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then he left.”

  “What did you do after that?” I almost didn’t want to hear his answer.

  “What do you mean? I did some paperwork, filled out an application to a few local colleges. I’m thinking of going back to school for a criminology degree so I can be chief someday.” He blushed. “I didn’t want to tell you guys in case Jesse thought I was getting ahead of myself, but I’m just thinking about my future.”

  I almost laughed. The wave of nausea I’d felt a moment ago had started to dissipate. “That’s what you’ve been hiding? That’s it?”

  He shook his head. “No.” He took a long breath. “Then the other guy came in. He told me that Roger had stolen drug money and he was there to retrieve it and arrest him. He told me that Roger was trying to get Jesse in trouble so he wanted to intercept him before the chief got involved. I told him that I thought Roger had gone to the chief’s house. I told him where Jesse lived.”

  “Which guy?�
�

  “The cop. Bob Marshall. I sent that guy to Jesse’s house and he murdered his friend.” Tears surfaced at the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry, Nell. I know I’m just a stupid small-town cop. The guy showed me a badge, gave me a good story, and I bought it. I thought I could tell the good guys from the bad. I was trying to protect Jesse and I got his friend killed.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Jesse after it happened?”

  “Because . . .” He swallowed hard and wiped away his tears. “I saw how he was. He didn’t want to hear anything about the case. He hid that business card. He took the evidence folder with the notebook himself. He wasn’t doing things by the book. I didn’t get it.”

  “So you ran your own investigation hoping to come up with the evidence?” It was an inclination that I understood perfectly.

  “The day we found Roger’s body, Jesse had me ticketing that guy’s car. Stupid tickets. So I knew it had something to do with the case, and I started to look into it. I thought maybe if I could prove Marshall was the killer, I could keep my stupidity out of it. And I could protect Jesse from whatever mess he was making with the investigation.”

  “And Dru’s car?”

  “What about it? Nell, I make rounds every night, all around town. I give someone a ride home every night of the week—people who’ve had too much to drink, people who don’t want to walk the few blocks home in the cold, and folks whose cars won’t start. Geez, I’ve given you and Barney rides. Is that suspicious now?”

  I patted his hand, relieved in a dozen different ways. “Kennette will be wondering where you are,” I said.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Go back to New York and tell Jesse we know who the killer is.”

  CHAPTER 50

  This time I drove to New York. I had Jesse’s car, and besides that, the romance of a train ride was spoiled, at least temporarily, by the memory of having spent my last ride sitting with Roger’s killer. I made it to Queens in far less time than the normal three hours. I must have sped the whole way without even noticing.

  I pulled up in front of Roger and Anna’s old house just as mourners were arriving for the post-funeral luncheon. I hadn’t bothered to change before heading south, so dark jeans and a navy sweater were going to have to do.

  I entered the house, a nice but ordinary brick bungalow, and looked for Jesse. Ken was there, seemingly annoyed, so I followed his sight line. Sure enough, Anna was hovering near Jesse as he chatted with some of Roger’s friends.

  “Hey, there,” I said, tapping Jesse’s arm.

  He spun around, surprised. “Nell, how’s Oliver?”

  “Good, thankfully.” I looked around. There were too many people around for me to shout out that I knew the identity of Roger’s killer. “I just wanted to be here for you, and since Oliver’s okay, I figured I’d come down.”

  He kissed my forehead. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?”

  “Absolutely. Just go straight back. It’s the master bedroom. I’m right behind you.”

  I walked toward the room, down a long narrow hallway, but I soon realized Jesse wasn’t behind me. When I turned, I saw why. Anna had grabbed his arm and burst out crying. Jesse looked helpless as he turned away from me to comfort her. I was about to go back when something stopped me.

  “We meet again.” Bob Marshall stood between me and a living room that was filling up with mourners. But there was a long empty hallway between where I was standing and where I could get help.

  “Get out of my way.” I didn’t wait for him to listen, I tried to go around him.

  He stopped me. As he did, he lifted his suit coat slightly to reveal a gun. “I’m a very fast draw.” Then he lifted his hand to my throat. “And I don’t have anything to lose.”

  He pushed me toward the door to the master bedroom.

  For some reason I was more angry than scared. I was tired of this man’s games. “I’ll scream if you push me again,” I said.

  “Wonderful. Your knight in shining armor will come running back and I’ll shoot him. Then I’ll shoot you.”

  I stepped over the threshold into the room. Marshall followed me, then closed the door behind him. We were in Roger and Anna’s old bedroom. It was tastefully decorated, like something copied from a magazine, but void of personality or warmth. Much like Anna herself, I thought. There were a few coats on the bed, and purses and gloves scattered around. I tripped on Anna’s handbag and almost fell on the bed. I stood against a dresser, trying to steady myself and stay calm.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “The money, Nell. I want the money.”

  “We’ve been over this. I don’t know where the money is.”

  “I don’t believe you. You have been running around looking into this case every minute since Roger died. People will talk to you but won’t talk to me. Jesse talks to you. He’s told you where it is.”

  “There is no money in Jesse’s house.”

  “But there is something in Jesse’s house. Some clue, some indication of where Roger hid it.”

  “Why Jesse? He hadn’t even spoken to him in three years.”

  Marshall shook his head and sighed. “Oh, Nell, I thought you were a better gumshoe than that. Roger gave some of the money, some of my money, to your holier-than-thou boyfriend.”

  The door to the bedroom opened. Jesse was standing there. Marshall didn’t reach for his gun, didn’t run, didn’t do anything. He just stood there. Jesse came in and grabbed me, putting himself between Marshall and me.

  “Get out of here,” he said to me. “Go.”

  “Jesse,” I said. “Marshall came into the police station on the night Roger died. Greg told him where you lived and he went there and killed Roger.”

  Marshall laughed. “Now that’s an interesting theory. Here’s another: maybe Jesse did it so he could keep the money Roger gave him.”

  Jesse moved toward Marshall. “I paid back the money he lent me. And as far as I know, he got it exactly where he said he got it: from cashing in some stocks he had.”

  “You didn’t believe him then.”

  “And I don’t believe you now,” Jesse said. “Nell, get out of here.” As he spoke, Marshall grabbed his gun. Jesse lunged at him, shouting for backup as he did. In seconds two dozen members of the New York police force were in the room, cuffing the disgraced detective and reading him his rights.

  As they led him from the room, Marshall looked at me. “They have me on a parole violation for carrying a weapon. Maybe unlawful imprisonment, though that’s a stretch. But they won’t get me for murder. Because I didn’t kill Roger. I wanted the money. And with Roger dead, I’ll never find it.” His voice was calm, but the look in his eyes seemed desperate, scared. I didn’t want to, but I believed he was telling the truth.

  When the room had emptied out, Jesse sat with me on the bed and put his arm around me. We sat quietly for a long time. “After Lizzie died,” Jesse said finally, “Roger was at the house all the time. He pretty much lived with me for the first few months. He even took time off to help me. He could see the stress I was under, the medical bills, the mortgage on the new house. I felt like I was going under financially, emotionally. Every which way.”

  “One day, I sent a check in to the hospital to make a payment on what I owed, and they told me the bill was paid,” Jesse continued. “And a bunch of other bills were paid. Nearly fifteen thousand dollars’ worth. Roger told me he’d cashed in some stocks he’d inherited from his dad years before. He knew if he’d given the money directly to me, I wouldn’t have taken it. And it wasn’t like I could just write him a check for the full amount. When I confronted him about it, he told me he wanted to help. He said he didn’t need or want the money back.”

  “But you paid him anyway.”

  “I’ve been paying h
im, or I was. A little bit at a time,” he said. “Around the same time, I was hearing rumors about Marshall, about the money. Roger had backed him up. He told me to my face that there was no money at that dealer’s place. And I believed him. Then Marshall went to prison and a few months later, Anna opened this business. They put a ton of money into it. She said Roger just came up with the money from some investment he’d made. Suddenly Roger was magically coming up with money from all kinds of places. It didn’t sit right. I felt like he’d made me party to his corruption and it ended our friendship. I couldn’t prove he had done anything. I’m not sure I wanted to, but I knew it in my gut and I felt betrayed.”

  “I thought Ken invested in Anna’s business.”

  “That story came later. And maybe he did, but not initially. I asked Roger about it. He wouldn’t say. He didn’t tell me that he was in on the theft, but I could see it in his eyes.”

  “But why? He was supposed to be this great cop.”

  “I don’t know. . . .” He looked at a photo of Roger and Anna on the dresser, one taken in much happier times. “He told me once that seeing the hell I went through when I lost Lizzie made him certain he could never lose Anna. I think he did it for her.”

  “And she left him anyway,” I pointed out. I looked down at Anna’s purse on the floor by my foot. I picked it up on a hunch, dumping it on the bed until I found what I was looking for. “I don’t think she just left him,” I said. “I think she killed him.”

  CHAPTER 51

  “That’s ridiculous. They just arrested my husband’s killer not ten minutes ago.” Anna sat at her kitchen table. Ken stood by her, but he didn’t seem all that surprised by my accusation.

  It was difficult to explain my theory in front of a room full of police officers and friends of the widow, but once I told Jesse what I believed had happened, he wanted to confront her there and then.

  “Marshall wanted the money. He’s right. He had no motive to kill Roger until he got it, or at least what’s left of it,” I said. “Ken had no motive either. You’re using him the way you used Roger. They were only in competition for who was the bigger fool. That leaves you.”