Tom headed straight to the table in my breakfast nook and set the bag of food down.
I waited at the back door for Candace.
“Did she confess?” she said as she climbed the porch steps. “ ’Cause outdoor crime scenes are trouble with a capital
“Sorry to disappoint you, but she didn’t confess. And I really don’t think she did it, Candace,” I said.
A muscle in Candace’s jaw tightened. “The lady was standing out on your dock while a dead woman floated in the water not three feet away. That’s evidence of something, I’d say. Mike’s pussyfooting around on this one, and I don’t get it.”
“You think he has an agenda?” I asked.
Candace and I came inside and she shoved the wad of crime scene tape in the trash can in the utility room. She glanced at Kara, who was walking toward us.
“Can we shelve this discussion for now?” Candace whispered.
I nodded, realizing she wasn’t about to talk about police business in front of someone following developments for the newspaper.
Morris joined us, too. Kara was holding Chablis but set her down when she reached the table. The other three cats trailed behind her. Syrah was sniffing the air like a bloodhound. He does have a taste for people food on occasion.
Tom found paper plates and napkins while I put the coffee beans in the airtight container where I keep them. Once we all had a burger and a stack of fries on our plates, I decided I’d better tell everyone the news.
I took a fortifying sip of my latte before I said, “Ritaestelle is coming here to stay after she’s released from the hospital this afternoon.”
Kara’s eyes grew wide, and Candace blinked about a dozen times.
Candace finally broke the silence. “Are you kidding me?”
“The woman’s afraid to go home. She’s convinced someone was drugging her tea and making her look like a thief,” I said. “And besides, she’s still hurting. All those stairs at her house would be a big problem.”
Candace set her untouched burger on her plate, her cheeks vivid with anger. “This is not good, Jillian.”
“Mike doesn’t agree. Besides, you should have seen her hip. I have no clue how she got down to the lake last night in the shape she was in,” I said.
“I did see her hip—last night,” Candace said. “She’s a little hobbled. So what? I agree with the chief that she needs watching, but you’re not the one to do it.”
“You both saw her leg? You have proof she was truly injured?” Kara said.
Candace stared at Kara. “The whole world doesn’t need to know. You get what I’m saying, right? We need to keep a few details out of the news.”
These two had trouble getting along when they first met in the spring, and with Candace running hot right now, I hoped her temper wouldn’t cause them to take several steps backward in what had become a decent friendship.
“Are you telling me what I can write and what I can’t?” Kara said.
Before I could say something—anything—to smooth the waters, Tom spoke. “That’s not true, right, Candace?” he said. “You totally embrace freedom of the press.”
Candace took a deep breath and turned back to me. “Of course I do. But still, why did you agree to take that woman in? You realize you could have a murderer sleeping down the hall.”
“I have to trust my heart—just like you have to trust the evidence,” I said evenly.
Candace took a deep breath, and the color on her cheeks faded. “I get that. I’m sorry, but I worry about you.”
“I know, and I appreciate that,” I said. “Here’s something else that will interest you. Mike has the keys to Ritaestelle’s car and permission to search it.”
Candace stood up so fast, she nearly knocked over her chair. “When is he coming? Maybe I should put crime scene tape around the Cadillac so no one will touch it before he gets here.”
Morris stopped eating long enough to say, “Jeez, Candace, sit your butt down and eat. We’re the only ones here, and we’re not messing with that car.”
Candace hesitated before sitting back down. “Sure. I know that. Do you think the chief will let me do the search?”
“You’re his little princess and lead on the case, so why not?” Morris picked up about ten fries and shoved them in his mouth.
I started when Syrah suddenly jumped in my lap. He stretched his neck toward my burger, his nose twitching. I pulled off a small piece of meat and set it on the floor by my chair. He jumped down, but not fast enough. Isis came from out of nowhere and gobbled up the morsel.
Syrah swatted her on the nose for this infringement. But she didn’t run off like Merlot or Chablis would have done. She just sat and stared into his eyes.
Oh boy. Candace and Kara first, then Candace and Morris, and now this. I needed some peace and quiet before I went to the hospital to pick up Ritaestelle.
As we waited for Mike to show up with the keys to the car, Candace passed her time wandering down by the lake, probably hoping to find any additional bit of evidence after once again complaining about outdoor crime scenes. Calls for new security systems started coming in to Tom just as we’d finished eating—probably because of the murder. He and Kara left for a consultation soon after. She still worked for him part-time installing systems and handling contracts. I finally had a few minutes to myself and settled on the couch along with the cats.
Isis soon discovered that Merlot was too big to bully. He gently nudged her away when she tried to take his spot next to me. Syrah was above me on the couch cushions, and Chablis sat in my lap. Isis weaved in and out of the coffee table legs before deciding that her place for now had to be the other end of the couch—a good three feet away from Merlot. With size comes intimidation. That was for sure.
I leaned back, feeling tired enough to fall asleep, but my cell phone rang. I took it from my pocket, and before I could say hello, a male voice said, “Why is my aunt staying with you? She needs to come home to her family.”
“Um, is this Farley?” I said.
“You bet it is. Farley Longworth the Fourth. What is going on between you and Aunt Rita? Are you after her money?”
What in the heck was this guy talking about? That should have been my first question, but instead I said, “How did you get my phone number?”
“I have connections. Lots of connections. Now, answer my question,” he said.
“I don’t have to tell you anything, Farley,” I said as kindly as I could. “Your aunt is capable of making her own decisions, and that’s all you need to know.”
He said, “I don’t think she should be staying with someone like you.”
“What do you mean?” I said, not appreciating his arrogant attitude.
“You come to South Carolina, build a big house, and wham, suddenly your husband’s dead and the property’s all yours, free and clear. I checked, you see. No mortgage. That makes it quite the easy life for you. You have to know there’s talk that you actually killed your husband. They just couldn’t prove it.”
I was too stunned to speak. Too hurt to even think of a reply to this horrible accusation.
Farley was more than willing to fill the silence. “Did Evie figure out why you came knocking on our door the other day? That you planned to extort money out of my aunt for the return of her cat?”
“Did Evie confront you about this cat business, so you killed her?” Snide didn’t begin to describe his tone.
I closed my eyes and took a calming breath. Discussing any of this with him would be fruitless. I disconnected—and realized that tears were streaming down my cheeks. The thought that anyone—even one person—suspected I could have harmed John made me feel like a hole had been seared through my heart. Grief washed over me, almost as intense as on the day he died.
I felt Syrah’s paw on my shoulder, then his face close to mine.
