“I asked what the sheriff talked with you about. If he was bothering you I can—”
“Oh, no. He just had a couple of questions,” I offered vaguely. Questions sounded better than accusations.
“Hmm,” Preston returned his eyes to the road and drove through the intersection. “He seemed kind of surly. Was he upset about something?”
Why had I agreed to this date? I mean, lunch. I didn’t want to get into this now, and definitely not with Preston.
“Charlee, is something bothering you? You can tell me. Maybe I can help?” He pulled into a parking spot at a popular seafood restaurant near the port overlooking the bay.
I unbuckled my seat belt, weighing what he said. Could he help? Maybe. He was well-connected in town.
“If you’re worried I’ll tell your brother, I promise it will stay between you and me. Attorney-client privilege,” he grinned.
“Am I your client?” I asked.
“Close enough. I represent Fern and you’ve been helping her out. I wouldn’t betray her confidence and the same applies to you.”
I wasn’t going to argue with that, as I could certainly use another set of eyes and ears helping me look out for Fern’s best interests. “Okay, deal,” I agreed. “Maybe you can help.”
“I’d love to,” he beamed.
Oh boy. This might be more than I bargained for.
Inside the dimly lit restaurant, Preston found us a small table in the corner with a nice view of the harbor. Once the server had taken our orders, Preston leaned forward. “Do you want to tell me why the sheriff was really there to see you this morning?”
Wow, Preston was more perceptive than I’d given him credit for. Granted, I wasn’t a very good liar, but still, he knew how to read people. I sighed, leaning my arms on the table, and lowered my voice. “The sheriff found out that I’d talked to Russell Jenkins, and he wasn’t very happy about it.”
Preston didn’t flinch. “Go on.”
“He accused me of interfering with his investigation.”
“Were you?” Preston asked in his lawyer voice.
“I don’t think so. I mean, that wasn’t my intent.” I paused. “Can I be honest with you?”
Preston straightened in his chair. “By all means, that is the point, isn’t it, Charlee?”
I relaxed a little. “I’m worried that the police aren’t going to try very hard to find additional suspects, since all the circumstantial evidence points to Fern. I’m not saying that Cole doesn’t know what he’s doing, but—”
Preston’s brows raised at my use of the sheriff’s first name. “You’re not confident in his abilities,” he finished for me.
“Yes, I guess. Fern and I are really close, and I don’t know what I would do if she’s blamed for this.”
Preston extended his hand and squeezed my arm that was still resting on the table. Normally, I would have been weirded out by this, but his concern almost seemed brotherly. “Well, Charlee, worrying isn’t going to get you anywhere, so what is it that you can do?”
His statement both surprised and impressed me. I thought he would just try to placate me, but he actually seemed interested in hearing me out and helping me do something about it.
From there, I went back to the beginning and told him about the conversations I had with Walter the denture-clicking neighbor, Patty Henderson, and Russell Jenkins. I also gave him a detailed account of finding the suitcase full of cash in Fern’s barn. By this time our food had arrived, and I took a break from talking to eat. After my busy morning, I was famished.
“The suitcase is a huge discovery, Charlee.” Preston speared a piece of broccoli. “Forensics should be able to find something from that, hopefully enough to exonerate Fern. No one believes that your aunt killed Earl, but she still has to be ruled out.”
It was nice that pretty much everyone I’d spoken to believed in Fern’s innocence, but I wouldn’t be satisfied until she was completely cleared from any wrongdoing. Including the felony charge for the still. “Preston, have you received an update on when Fern might be arraigned?”
He shook his head. “Not yet, but maybe next week.”
I thought back to my conversation with Cole about the judge who was sweet on Fern and wondered if that was the reason. I wondered why Preston hadn’t shared that with me, but I wasn’t going to press him on it.
“Any other potential suspects you’d like to interview?” Preston used his knife to cut into his fish. “I’d be happy to accompany you.”
“That’s nice of you to offer, but I think I should be fine. Russell said that Earl’s brother Floyd might know something.” I dipped another french fry in some ranch dressing and took a bite.
Preston frowned, then wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Floyd Henderson has been arrested at least half a dozen times, and been to prison twice,” he relayed seriously. “He’s not someone you should be talking to. At least not by yourself.”
I ignored the warning in his tone. “So, you think he might know something?”
“Yes, he might, but I think you should let the police handle him.”
“But what if they don’t consider him a suspect?”
Preston gave me a blank look. “The man has a record. Believe me, he’s a suspect.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I was going to talk to him while he’s at work.” I dipped another French fry. “It’s perfectly safe.”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” He studied me through his thick-rimmed glasses, but he didn’t seem upset.
“Probably not,” I said honestly.
“Then I’ll come with you,” he said. “When do you plan to speak with him?”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Preston, but I don’t think he’ll be willing to talk if you’re there.”
Preston continued to study me, but didn’t say anything, which I took to mean that he knew I was right. “Will you promise to be careful?” he finally asked. “Do you have
