Cole placed the suitcase back in the garbage sack. “I’ll get someone to come back and check out the floor over here, and then you can put it back.”
Outside in the yard, Cole stopped and turned to me. “Charlee, do you know if your prints are in the system?”
“Well, I haven’t been arrested if that’s what you’re asking.”
Another smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. A mouth that I really shouldn’t be focusing on. “No, I didn’t think you had been. We’ll need them for when we analyze the case, so we can rule yours out.”
“Gotcha. I can come down to the station this afternoon,” I offered.
“Tomorrow is fine. Thank you, ladies.” He turned and continued toward the gate on the side of the house.
Fern gave me a nudge and tilted her head, implying I should follow him. “What for?” I whispered.
She gave an impish grin. “It’s almost dinner time. Invite him to stay.”
I was not going to chase after Cole like some infatuated girl. Even though a small part of me wanted to. “He’s working.”
Fern rolled her eyes and marched back to the house.
I blew out a deep breath. It had been a productive day. I’d talked with Patty and uncovered important evidence that I believed would help the police solve their case. I should be feeling good.
But when Cole walked away, I found myself feeling disappointed, which was ridiculous. We weren’t anything or going to be anything. I needed to hurry up and figure out who killed Earl so I could get back to my life in Portland.
Except that after spending several days here, I realized I didn’t even miss it. I wasn’t going to take time to reflect on what that meant. Because my life wasn’t here, nor was it ever going to be with Cole. And I’d be wise not to forget that.
Chapter Eight
After getting fingerprinted at the police station first thing the next morning, I drove to Russell Jenkins’ insurance office, unoriginally named Jenkins’ Insurance. His office was located in an older strip mall in the north part of town. The building was in desperate need of a paint job, not to mention some curb appeal. Perhaps this is what my mother hoped to tackle with her Rockfish Bay beautification project. Good luck with that, Mom.
I arrived a few minutes before my nine o’clock appointment, and sat on an uncomfortable faded blue chair, perusing a home and lifestyle magazine from six years ago. It was one thing for the outside to be a wreck, but with the dour interior, it was no surprise that Earl didn’t get what he hoped to out of the business. If the office’s condition was any indicator of how successful they were, Earl should have been happy that Jenkins took this place off his hands.
“Miss King.” The fifty-something woman behind the reception desk directed her attention toward me. “Mr. Jenkins will see you now. Straight through that door.” She pointed behind her.
“Great, thank you.” I stood and walked down a very short hall and rapped lightly on the door.
“Come in,” called a raspy male voice.
I pushed the door open. Mr. Jenkins sat behind an older metal desk, not bothering to stand up or shake my hand. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties with salt-and-pepper hair. The same outdated furniture extended into this space as well. “Hi, Mr. Jenkins, I’m Charlee King. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
“Sure, have a seat.” He gestured to another faded blue chair across from him. “Are you here about car insurance? Or homeowner’s insurance perhaps?”
“Oh, no,” I shook my head. When I’d made the appointment with the receptionist, I hadn’t specified the reason, and clearly, he assumed I was here to talk about insurance. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if he would agree to meet with me if I stated the actual reasons for my visit. “I wanted to ask you a few questions about Earl Henderson.”
His thin lips stretched into a grimace as he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re Ben King’s daughter, right?”
I nodded and smiled, hopefully convincingly. At least enough for him not to kick me out.
“Why do you want to know about Earl?” He eyed me suspiciously.
I decided on the truth. Okay, a partial truth. “Well, as you may have heard, I found the body in my aunt’s barn. I’m just trying to get a clearer picture of Earl to offer up some ideas on what might have happened.” I tried to sound as innocent and non-accusatory as possible.
“You don’t think Fern killed him?”
“No, of course not,” I responded sharply. “Do you?”
“No. But I’ll tell you right now, I don’t a have clue what happened.” His demeanor relaxed slightly.
“What can you tell me about your relationship with him?” I asked gently.
“We worked together here for twenty-plus years, and then about three years ago, Earl wanted to retire so I bought him out,” Russell explained.
“Did you get along?”
He leaned forward in his chair. “Yes. Do you think I would have worked with him for that long if I didn’t?”
I found his response interesting. Jenkins claimed they had an amicable relationship, but he didn’t seem bothered at all by Earl’s death, nor did he say they were friends. If, in fact, they had gotten along, shouldn’t he be a little more shaken up about Earl’s passing?
“I heard you and Earl had a falling out when he sold you the business. Is that true?”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “Not exactly. Look, this is a business. Earl thought it was worth a lot more than it was. So yeah, you could say he was disappointed.” He sighed, then added, “And I didn’t blame him. But I have to make a living, too.”
Russell didn’t act like a man who was holding a grudge, but then it made more sense that Earl was the one who would have been bitter over the deal, not Jenkins.
“Were you in town on Sunday night?” I questioned cautiously.
