That thought sent a laugh tumbling out of my mouth. Not because she was interested in Cole, as that annoyed me a bit, but that she thought I was competition. I didn’t even live here, and she already had it out for me.
Chapter Fifteen
“C harlee, the load in the washer is done,” Fern hollered from down the hall late the next morning.
“Thanks, Fern. I’ll get it.” Rubbing my hands together, I brushed off as much flour as I could before washing my hands at the sink.
I’d spent most of the morning making bread for some other fundraiser or church event my mom was running, and I had also promised to save out a few loaves for my brothers. After switching my jeans and several other items to the dryer, I returned to the kitchen to clean up my bread mess.
Fern came padding in a few minutes later, feather duster in hand with Moose close on her heels. “Oh, how I hate dusting,” Fern mumbled.
“Me too,” I concurred. “Probably why I never do it.”
“Well, it’s been several months, and the knitting group is meeting here this afternoon, so I figured I might as well do a little cleaning.” At the breakfast bar, Fern stacked several items, pausing to glance at my notebook, where I was trying to sort out details on the case.
“Say, when you talked with Cole yesterday, did you ask about the suitcase full of cash? I feel like that’s one of the best leads they have.” She continued to study the page.
“No, I didn’t even ask. Things got tense when he found out I’d talked with Floyd, and then we were interrupted by Harper Mitchell,” I grimaced. “Have you met her?”
Fern nodded. “Once at some civic event your dad wanted the family to support. I remember her being attractive and polite, but it was only a brief introduction.”
Well, that was more than I could say for her yesterday.
“How does someone like her get elected? She’s a transplant in a community where people are skeptical of outsiders, and she’s young. How much experience could she possibly have?” I asked.
“I’ll give you two words. Money and looks. The Mitchells are loaded and campaigned heavily for her.”
“But no one campaigns here. That’s why it’s so funny when my mom makes such a big deal out of it,” I replied.
Fern’s mouth pinched together, highlighting her displeasure. “And there you have it. Lee Hines didn’t even bother to put signs up this election. There were Mitchell signs everywhere with her picture on them, not to mention a commercial.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” To my knowledge, no one running for local office around here had ever had a commercial. Most people didn’t have the money or really care that much. That, and at least half of the races were uncontested.
“Nope. She won because of name recognition and she’s pretty,” Fern stated disgustedly. “When people went to vote, they recognized her name, and since Hines had done no advertising or campaigning whatsoever, he faded into the background. And he’s not thirty and blonde with assets.” Fern looked at me knowingly.
“Yeah, I noticed.” I picked up a bowl of dough and set it in the warm oven to rise. “She dresses to draw attention to herself. It’s probably a cool sixty-five degrees inside the sheriff’s office and she had on a sleeveless top and a short, tight skirt.”
“Well, hon, don’t you worry. I’m sure Cole sees right through that,” Fern winked.
“Fern, there’s nothing—” The doorbell rang, cutting me off mid-sentence. “I’ll get it.” I dropped the dish rag on the counter and headed for the door.
As I opened it and caught a glimpse of who was on the other side, my heart sank into my stomach.
“Good morning, Charlee.” Cole’s somber expression revealed his intent, making me feel sick.
“Hi, Charlee,” Troy waved from behind him. If Cole had brought a deputy, this was definitely not a social call.
I pressed my lips together. Everything that I wanted to say I couldn’t because it was rude and snarky and wouldn’t help the situation.
“Is Fern here?” Cole looked into my eyes and I saw a shadow of concern.
“Yes.” I stepped to the side and allowed them entry. “Fern,” I called out, walking to the kitchen, the officers following close behind. “The sheriff is here.”
My aunt emerged from the kitchen and met us in the living room. For a moment, we all stood staring at each other, and it felt very awkward.
“Fern, I hate to do this, but you are under arrest for the murder of Earl Henderson.” Cole got straight to the point.
My aunt swallowed and managed a stiff nod. I stepped in front of her, as I had developed a habit of doing lately. “On what grounds?” I snapped defensively.
Cole sighed. “Charlee, please don’t do this. I told you yesterday—”
“You said this might happen, or could maybe happen, but now you’re here a day later and arresting her. Has anything changed? Because from where I stand you’ve got next to nothing to go on,” I fumed.
“Earl was killed on Fern’s property, with her shovel that contains her prints. She also admitted to having conflicts with the victim, including an altercation the night he died,” Cole rattled off quickly.
“That’s all circumstantial. What about the cash I found? Did you ever figure out how that ended up in Fern’s barn? Thousands of dollars is a much stronger motive than some silly argument over trespassing alpacas.”
Cole frowned, and behind him, Troy cracked a smile.
“Charlee, I’m not going to argue with you about this. Please step aside and let me do my job,” he commanded.
“Charlee.” Fern wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “It’s going to be fine. Just give Preston a call. He’ll get this sorted out.”
I turned to face my aunt. “Fern, this is serious. This isn’t about a little moonshine. It’s murder.”
“I know,” she said calmly, but I could see the
