by Cassie Page
Matt was saying, “I don’t know. They would have been significant if forensics had found them.”
Despite herself, Olivia’s voice rose loud enough to bring Xavier poking his head out of his office, a querulous look on his face. She waved him away to say everything’s all right. Though nothing was all right. When he went back into his office she whispered, “You’re not blaming Xavier, are you?”
She could tell Matt was trying to be reasonable. “Olivia, you’re being overly sensitive. We need to talk. Just come into the station and talk to us. I’ll send someone out to pick up the glasses. Show Xavier where they are, but tell him not to touch them, or anything else up there.”
Aghast, she said, “You want me to come down to the station? Like a common criminal?”
Matt’s voice cracked. “My darling, please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is. You’re involved now. We have to get your statement. Just come in and let’s get it cleared up. If you like, I’ll have Johnson come and pick you up.”
Olivia had a flashback to the last time Johnson had taken her into the station a few months after she’d arrived in Darling Valley, handcuffed with her whole, gossipy neighborhood watching. “Absolutely not. I’ll come in myself.”
“Good. I’m glad. And remember, Olivia. It’s always best to tell the truth. No matter where it leads.”
“GURMEET RICHARDS! Are you suggesting I would lie? This is too much. It’s just too much. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Olivia started to cry.
“First I had to see the horrible mess that was left of Jocelyn Payne, then my dear friend Xavier is implicated. You know this will affect his business. You know how people are. Would you buy diamonds from someone who has dead bodies falling out of his ceiling?”
She was sobbing openly now.
“No, but I don’t buy diamonds very often. Olivia. We just want to know what you know.”
She was hiccupping sobs. “I can tell you that over the phone and save you the trouble of messing up your interview room. I know nothing. I know less than you do. You at least know the forensics. And that isn’t very much. Or is it? Is there something you’ve been keeping from me?”
“We haven’t had a chance to talk. Please just come in.”
“I will. But now I have a few questions of my own.”
On her way out the door Olivia poked her head into Xavier’s office. “Did I hear you talking to Mrs. Harmon?”
His manner disturbed Olivia. Surprise at first, then he was ill at ease. “Mrs. Who? Oh, is that your tenant? No. Why would she be here? That was someone wanting to sell me janitorial services.”
Olivia would have bet money that he was lying to her. But she played dumb. “Hm. Sounded just like her. She told me she was coming over to see you. Oh, well. I’ve got to run.” But she stopped herself when she saw the look on his face. “Xavier, you look upset. What’s wrong?”
He scratched his head, clearly puzzled. “I finished my inventory. I’m missing an earring. A little drop with opals and diamonds. Not terribly valuable, but one of a kind from a designer in Las Vegas. The police have the mate. I wonder if the missing one is caught in her clothes. It must be.”
“You need to report this to Matt.”
“I’ll call him.”
“Okay, I’ve really got to go.”
She air kissed him and ran out the door. When she looked in her rear view mirror before turning onto the street, she spotted a familiar car coming out of the parking lot behind her, confirming that Xavier was lying to her. It was Mrs. Harmon.
“Tuesday, where are you? Answer your phone. I’m going to jail and I need you. No kidding. And Brooks is back without giving me any warning. I don’t know which is worse.”
Olivia threw her phone into the passenger seat as she headed down Darling Boulevard to the police station at the south end of town. If the first problem didn’t get Tuesday’s attention, the second surely would. Because of his chronic misbehavior where Olivia was concerned, personally and professionally—other women and trying to steal her clients—they’d agreed that Brooks would always warn her when he planned a foray into the lucrative pond of building opportunities in Darling Valley. Tuesday claimed it was so she’d steer clear of his usual haunts when he was in town, The Salted Caramel, Hugo’s. Otherwise, she was likely to wrap a baseball bat around his neck.
Tuesday would love to do it herself if he ever came within swinging distance of her. Actually, since both Tuesday and Brooks lived in LA, there was more chance he’d get beaned on his home turf, but so far, luck had not favored Tuesday.
So why no ETA this time? Was he getting careless or just taking Olivia’s feelings for granted again? But this was not the time to second-guess Brooks Baker’s twisted mind. She had more important problems waiting for her at the police station.
Such as, was she losing her mind? She never sent those texts. What was Matt talking about? How did CNN get this information? Those texts, if they existed, came from someone else. And when I find the creep, she promised herself, he is going to wish he’d stuck his hand into a wasp’s nest rather than mess with me. She started ratcheting up the charges in the lawsuit she would file as she approached the Darling Valley Police Department. Libel, trespassing, harassment, theft, and, and . . . and that’s all she came up with before parking her truck.
Given how small it was, DVPD was abuzz with phones ringing, doors slamming, official sounding voices shouting at underlings, and people running down corridors. Much like a construction site, Olivia thought. Because of her connection with Matt and a few unpleasant interludes of a law enforcement nature of her own, she recognized some of the faces of the officers, clerks and various specialists that kept Darling Valley safe and secure. Not as safe and secure as Jocelyn Payne would have liked no doubt. But still, the crime rate in town was manageable. She smiled at Officer Ridley manning her post at the front desk.
“Nice to see you, Linda.” But the woman wouldn’t look her in the eye.
Ridley just said, “Olivia,” as enthusiastically as if she’d just opened a can of soup. “Detective Richards is expecting you.”
Olivia returned an equally sour thank you, ten attempted to get the attention of two police officers she had danced with at the department’s Christmas party last year. She’d been Matt’s guest, their first social event with his co-workers as an official couple, both of them too embarrassed to talk to each other all evening.
On the way home she’d laughed and said, “They must have thought we were strangers.”
Matt had added, “Or having a fight.”
As if on cue, the two officers found something urgent to take care of down the hall without acknowledging her. So the word was out, she thought. They have nailed boss’s girlfriend as the perp. And they don’t know how to handle it.
The blinds inside in Matt’s office were up and she could see him on the phone taking notes. He waved, unsmiling, and she waved back, then sat down on one of the battered wooden chairs in the dingy lobby. She once joked to Matt that the department should hire her to upgrade their digs. He’d said, “What’s wrong with the place?”
An interrogation by the police was not like a visit to the dentist. No aging magazines to distract from the horrors of an impending police grilling. No reading material of any kind, unless you counted the brochures on home safety and traffic laws on the file cabinet behind Officer Ridley. What was taking Matt so long? She searched Ridley’s uniform to see if it had the usual array of coffee stains.
Multi-tasker to the bone, Olivia pulled out her phone to check up on the rest of her life while she waited. No email or text alerts came up, so she opened the search bar and typed in Arthur Payne, for no particular reason except that it was the name occupying most of her brain cells at the moment.
As she expected, link after link featured Jocelyn’s husband as a businessman, socialite, philanthropist and inventor. Wait. What was this? Was he also a medical doctor? Oh, no, that particular link referenced his son
, though the full name of Payne the younger intrigued her, particularly his first name. Absalom. She scrolled backwards to see if she had confused the father and son previously. Yes, she had missed the father’s actual first name. David. The senior Payne must not care about tempting fate. Or hadn’t read the bible.
But his first wife probably had. She found a clip of David Arthur Payne’s leaving the divorce court snapping, “Finally, I’m free of Thou Art My Payne,” before getting into a waiting limo.
Then Matt ended his call. Officer Ridley looked cow-eyed at her as Olivia passed her desk and headed for his office. Matt usually shut the blinds in his office for privacy when she’d stop by for a quick lunch. This time, he walked to the door giving her only a nod and pointed down the hall toward the two interrogation rooms.
His eyes focused over her head probing the lobby looking for someone. “Let me find Johnson and we’ll get started. I have a room reserved for us. I’ll just be a minute,” he said and went back to his desk.
This was too much for Olivia. She charged up behind him. “What do you mean a room? I thought we were just going to have a conversation. What’s going on, Matt?”
His expression was as revealing as a pool of muddy water. “Sorry, Olivia. This is official police business. We need to ask you some questions for the record.”
Olivia gasped. “Do I need a lawyer?”
Matt was searching through things on his desk, still avoiding her eyes. “That’s certainly your right. Ah, here’s my pen.” He looked up with a brittle smile and pointed to the lobby. “Shall we?”
Confused by all this, she stammered, “I parked in a fifteen minute spot out front. I thought this would be quick and dirty.”
Matt stuck out his hand. “Why don’t you give me your keys and I’ll have Officer Ridley move it across the street to a two hour parking space. She’ll put one of our DVPD placards on it and you won’t have to feed the meter. Does she have your permission to do that for you?”
“Permission? What is this, LAPD all of a sudden? Do we have to fill out a property form in triplicate or something?”
Matt didn’t answer, so she handed over her keys. “Are we going to be able to talk to one another now, or do we have to maintain radio silence until you catch who really did this?”
Matt said nothing for a moment. “I think it’s best we don’t look into the future but just get this meeting over with. How’s that?”
He didn’t give her a chance to answer, but hustled her out the door and down the corridor.
Had it been only a few hours since they’d laughed about soccer and tango in Xavier’s? Then Jocelyn Payne fell from the sky, putting that happy time in a past era.
When they finally settled in the small, smelly interrogation room, Olivia’s pulse was racing and she couldn’t look at Matt, at the indifference on his face. She shrugged off her jacket, the stain on the sleeve from Xavier’s still taunting her. While they waited for Johnson to arrive, Matt gave her a few guidelines.
“We have a list of questions we’d like to ask. Depending on your answers, we may have to put up a firewall because of our relationship.” He waved his pen at her. “Yours and mine.” As if she didn’t know which relationship he meant.
“We have to decide if it would be a conflict of interest for me to have further contact with you.”
Oh, was this just about protecting himself from a conflict of interest charge? She felt better. That made perfect sense. Yeah he was being cold about it, but at work Matt was all about rules. This was just for the record. It didn’t mean he was accusing her of anything. She was getting herself all upset over nothing. Why did she always jump to catastrophic conclusions?
A smile of relief lit up her face. This was her Matt. Seriously? How could she have doubted him?
“Of course,” she said agreeably. “But since I’ve done nothing wrong, I don’t see how there’d be a conflict of interest.”
Matt paused. His demeanor gave nothing away, the rigid shoulders, stiff back, his perfectly knotted tie.
“Olivia, that’s for the department to decide. If it comes to that, Johnson would take over for me. This is an unusual situation. You understand. We want to do this by the book. We’ve talked about it, the department and me.”
Olivia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You mean you seriously think I did it.”
Johnson walked in at that moment with a paper cup of water for her and pack of gum for himself.
“We don’t think anything,” Johnson said, taking a seat. He answered her question in his typically gruff way, unwrapping a stick of gum and popping it into his mouth. “We just need some answers. We were pretty surprised to see how deeply you’re linked to this case.”
Olivia’s head was spinning. “Linked to this case? Bob. Matt. I happened to be in Xavier’s shop when Jocelyn Payne, yikes, how do you say it? When she fell.” She pointed to Matt. “We both were. How does that make me a murder suspect?”
Johnson broke in. “Miss Granville.” He popped his gum.
Exasperated, Olivia closed her eyes as she answered. “Oh for Pete’s sake, Bob. Now you won’t even call me by my first name?”
Several months earlier they had driven to the Fredericks’s anniversary party together, with Charles, Tuesday and Matt, so she knew he had a lighter side. She didn’t know how to bring it out in this setting, but calling him by his first name hadn’t softened him up.
He answered, getting out his trusty electronic tablet, “We have protocols, Miss Granville. I’m sure you can understand that.”
He was no longer looking at her; Matt was flipping through notes in his frayed pad.
“I understand nothing, Bob,” she snapped, not even trying to manage her irritation. “Will you please explain this to me? I’m being set up for something and I’d like to know why.”
Olivia and the detective had never established a warm relationship. Actually, not any kind of relationship, other than brittle hellos on the rare occasions they ran into each other. This was not the first time Johnson had suspected Olivia of involvement in a murder and their friendship had remained frosty. Because each of them was connected to Matt, though, they at least kept their interactions cordial, as at the Fredericks’ bash. That pretense was falling away.
Matt finally looked at her, countering her growing outrage with a calming voice. “Let us do the questioning. Is that okay with you? You’ll have your chance to tell your story. And Olivia, you have to know that this is as painful for me as it is for you.”
She snapped, “Is that on or off the record.” She looked around. “Do you have the cameras on?”
Matt gave her a mournful nod. “Yes.”
Olivia’s heart sank. In that moment she knew their relationship was over.
Chapter Ten: Just The Facts, Ma’am
“Miss Granville, may I see your phone? I can get a warrant if you like.”
Olivia pulled it out of her purse and slid it across the table, sneering, “Knock yourself out, Bob.”
Johnson pushed some buttons, did a cursory search of her contacts, keyed in some notes on his device and carefully placed it in front of her.
Olivia pled her case to Matt. “What this is all about? I have a right to face my accuser.”
Matt held up his hand and stopped her. “You’re not being accused of anything. Let’s move on and see if we can get to the bottom of this.”
Then Matt shifted into his professional bad cop mode. Gone by the wayside was the warmth and sadness about facing Olivia in an interrogation room. She’d often imagined him hard at work, going after a suspect. But her fantasies about his crime-fighting persona were tame compared to the real thing. She actually shivered when he read a list of questions from his handwritten notes. They came at her in a rapid-fire sequence that didn’t give her time to think, much less give an answer. A real murderer had no hope against him. She knew that now, knew why he confidently boasted that he closed every case with the killer behind bars.
He named a
date, two weeks prior. “You sent a text to Jocelyn Payne telling her to stay away from, and here I quote, ‘My man.’ Then ten days ago you sent a second text to her. ‘If you don’t stay where you belong and keep your hands off him, I will kill you.”
Olivia burst out laughing. “Matt, have you ever heard me say anything like that to anyone? I’m the slinking away from a fight kind of gal. You know that. I don’t take the offensive unless it’s for a client.”
She stopped herself from saying, I’m a lover not a fighter, but didn’t want a suggestion of their intimacy on the record. Instead, she added, “This interrogation is a conflict of interest.”
Matt kept his gaze steady. “We found these messages on Jocelyn’s phone. We traced the sender. They came from your phone. Johnson checked. He can show you.”
Johnson tapped her phone, mouthed take a look.
Why hadn’t she checked her phone and read the texts for herself before she came in here? Because she hadn’t believed the texts were real. How could they be? Now she realized she should have. She’d let herself be blindsided.
Matt continued. “If you have a simple answer, we can wrap this up. Your part of the investigation will be closed.”
Johnson picked up the phone and went searching for the texts. Olivia threw up her hands. “I don’t care what you show me. I. Didn’t. Send. Those. Texts.”
She looked up at the ceiling. She could no longer face Matt.
Johnson took over. “Okay. Let’s leave the texts alone for now. You do work on Xavier’s place. So you have a key, right?”
“No, Bob, I don’t. You must not know Xavier very well if you think he would give anyone a key to his shop. Nor do I know how to get into his safes, nor do any of my workers. Xavier is always in the shop when we arrive to let us in. So, if you think I could have gotten into the store and killed Jocelyn Payne, the answer is no.”
