Cole pointed to a coffee mug on a stool near the alpaca food.
“Oh, that.” I entered the room to retrieve it. “I came in here to get treats for the alpacas and must have set it there.”
Cole stood and looked around the room. It was a mess. Alpaca supplies, empty flowerpots, potting soil, and shelves stacked with home-canned fish and fruit littered the small space. His dark blue eyes settled back on me. I know we were standing in a room with a dead body, and I shouldn’t care, but why couldn’t I have taken five minutes with my appearance?
“Excuse me, Charlee.” Troy stepped around me and out into the aisle.
“Do you have any idea why Earl Henderson would be here?”
“Not a clue. I mean, I just met him last night when he—” I stopped abruptly, realizing how that might sound.
“When he what?”
When he came over and fought with Fern. I couldn’t say that. Fern didn’t kill Earl, and I wasn’t going to implicate her as a possible suspect.
“Charlee, what happened?”
I chewed on my lower lip, trying to think of the most sugarcoated way to explain it. Unable to come with anything good, I exhaled a defeated breath. Fine, I’d tell the truth. “Earl was in the backyard chasing Moe with a clam shovel… or was it Cheddar?” My head tilted to the side as I tried to remember.
“Moe? Cheddar?” Cole looked confused and not the least bit amused. Maybe he didn’t have a sense of humor. Perhaps he wasn’t as perfect as Fern thought.
“Moe is actually short for Mozzarella. She’s one of the alpacas. They’re all named after cheese,” I explained. Like he cared about that detail.
“Why was Earl chasing an alpaca?” Cole crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest.
Focus, Charlee.
“He said the animal was in his yard eating his flowers.”
Cole stared at me, but didn’t say anything. He might have been thinking. Probably that I was crazy.
“Then what happened?” he asked.
“Well, Fern and Earl had a few words, and then he went back to his house.” Okay, so I could sugarcoat a little.
“By ‘words’ do you mean an argument?” Cole clarified.
“Uh, maybe,” I replied vaguely.
“Charlee,” he admonished sternly.
“He was chasing Cheddar with a clam shovel. Of course Fern was upset,” I divulged. “Personally, I think Earl was overreacting,” I added, despite that the sheriff probably didn’t care one iota about my opinion.
“Did Fern threaten him?”
Oh sure! He would jump straight to that conclusion.
“Possibly, but that was after Earl threatened Cheddar.” I was trying my best to keep Fern off the suspect list, but feared I was failing.
“Okay, that’s what I needed to know.”
Crapola. This wasn’t going well.
“Fern did not,” I emphasized, “kill Earl.”
“I didn’t say she did,” Cole replied coolly.
“Well, good,” I spluttered.
“Hey, Sheriff,” Troy’s muffled voice shouted. “I think I found something.”
Cole stepped past me and out into the aisle. I turned and followed. Troy poked his head out of one of the stalls. “In here,” he waved. The already small space was filled with a lawn mower, weed eater, and a variety of garden tools. I leaned around Cole’s large frame to see what Troy was talking about.
“Look,” Troy kneeled and pointed at the blade of a shovel. “That’s blood. Could that be the murder weapon?”
“Possibly.” The sheriff kneeled to study the shovel.
I was terrified I’d failed miserably, as it looked like Fern just jumped to the top of the suspect list. I chewed my fingernail anxiously.
Cole looked back at me, and his gaze hardened. I backed away. “Charlee, where’s Fern?”
“Church. I called her and left a message. If she gets it, she’ll come home. I didn’t tell her about the body,” I added, just in case he thought I’d warned her to get out of town.
“Okay, you can go back to the house. But don’t go anywhere,” he ordered firmly.
I wasn’t sure I liked the tone of his voice. I hadn’t done anything wrong. And neither had Fern for that matter. I turned to leave and headed for the door.
“Did you have a chance to go through the other rooms?” Cole asked Troy from somewhere behind me.
“Yeah, just briefly. The other stalls just had hay.”
“And the room at the back?” Cole asked.
I froze.
“It was locked,” Troy answered.
“Charlee,” Cole barked, saying my name like a drill sergeant.
“Yes.” I turned around and pasted on a fake smile. I didn’t feel like it, but I’m afraid the situation warranted one. I really needed to figure out a way to talk myself out of this. And fast.
“Do you have a key to access this room?”
“Do I have a key?” I parroted back to him slowly.
His eyes narrowed into slits. “Where’s the key, Charlee? Either you open it, or I bust the door in.”
I wasn’t liking this serious, menacing side of the sheriff.
Holding my head high (well, as high as I could, seeing as I was wearing owl pajama pants), I marched toward him. Shoved against the wall just past the door was a small bench. I kneeled and felt around for the key that was hung on a nail underneath.
Gripping the key, I stood and inserted it in the lock, avoiding Cole’s angry glare. The knob turned, and I pushed the door open. Cole stepped inside and swore quietly.
“Charlee, is this your aunt’s still?” He turned, a furious glint in his eyes.
“Oh, is that what that is?” I tried to play dumb, but I’m not the best liar, so I don’t think he bought it.
“Yes, Charlee. It’s a still, for making moonshine. But I think you know that,” he bit out sharply. “Which is a felony.”
“Oh, come on, it’s Rockfish Bay,” I protested, perhaps sounding a little whiny.
He snickered. “I’ve been hearing that a lot since I moved here. Are you saying that the law doesn’t apply, Ms. King?”
Great, so we were back to Ms. King again. He must really be ticked.
“Maybe that’s why this town has so many problems.” He grumbled and stalked
