Did she and Jack know each other better than anyone knew?
Jack appeared a moment later, talking, animated.
“Is there sound?” she asked.
Gryph shook his head. “Too windy. Messes up the mics.”
Charlotte didn’t have to hear the words to know Jack was angry. Just when she thought he’d slam the door on his visitor, Jack stepped back and the woman walked inside and shut the door. Gryph looked at the screen and fiddled with it.
“I’ll fast forward to where she comes out. It’s maybe ten minutes of nothing.”
He held the phone back up and the woman reappeared. The image wasn’t perfect, but it looked as if she held something dark, vaguely gun-shaped, hanging at her side. She entered her car and drove away.
“Can we see a plate on that car?” she asked.
“I already emailed it to you along with this clip.”
“Great. Thank you.” Charlotte clucked her tongue, remembering she’d left her phone on the bed.
Ah well. I can check my mail online at Declan’s.
By the time she’d refocused on Gryph, he was closing his door.
“Maybe next time check your email before you wake me up at the crack of dawn,” he muttered as Charlotte found herself staring at a wood panel.
I guess I deserve that.
She headed back to the car.
“I have to make one more stop,” she said, getting in.
Declan stared at her until she took his arm in hers and gave it a squeeze.
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
He shook his head. “You owe me about a thousand back rubs at this point.”
“Fair enough. If it makes you feel better, there’s a tiny chance there might be a guy shot at the next stop.”
“Oh, sure. In that case, how can I say no?”
She directed him to Jack’s house as she explained what she’d seen in Gryph’s phone. She hopped out again after he parked, hearing his door open behind her.
“Hold it there, Jack Rabbit.”
She turned to find Declan following her to the front door.
“You’re not going in there by yourself.”
“Fine. I guess since there are guns involved this time.”
“Thank you.”
Charlotte knocked and Jack answered almost immediately, a cup of coffee in his hand, not bleeding from a bullet wound. She realized she hadn’t come up with a story as to why she was knocking on his door.
“What do you want?” he asked. He eyed Declan and then tilted to the side as if looking for someone else. Only after that did his attention drop to her pajama shorts.
She started talking before he could ask about them. “Um...I’m helping the Sheriff with, uh, follow-up interviews.” She motioned next door. “About Ted’s death.”
He scowled. “I’m pretty busy.”
“It will only take a second.”
He took a measured sip from his mug. “Fine.”
“Can we come in?”
“No.”
Charlotte frowned. She’d have to make a mental note that dressing like a crazy person didn’t make it easy to gain entry to people’s homes.
“Did you know the housekeeper who found Ted?”
Jack swallowed. “No.”
“Had you seen her before?”
“No.”
“And you said you saw her find the body?”
“Yes. She was pushing him.”
“Pushing him?”
“Shaking him. Trying to wake him up.”
“Oh.” Charlotte paused, thinking. “Is there any chance she was rolling him across the grass?”
“What?”
“Moving him. Like from the back yard. Maybe you happened to see her on the last push?”
Jack scowled. “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”
“So I’ll take that as a no. So, you saw her shaking him and then what?”
“I asked if he was okay and she burst into tears, pointing and screaming, hysterical.”
“And you went to get help?”
“Right. I called the sheriff.”
Charlotte fell silent, waiting to see if Jack would grow uncomfortable. If it had been Corentine at his door with a gun, she found it odd he hadn’t mentioned it.
“Is that it?” he asked.
That didn’t work. Time for confrontation.
“Who came to see you a few hours ago?”
Instead of responding with his trademark unpleasantness, Jack paled and looked away.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes you do.”
“I think we’re done here.”
He moved to close the door. Charlotte stuck out her foot to block it, forgetting she was only wearing flimsy flip flops. She yelped as the door pinched her foot and Declan whipped out an arm to stop the door from closing any farther.
“No,” was all he said.
Jack let go of the door, his cheeks flush. “I don’t know who you two think you are.”
“She had a gun. It was Corentine, wasn’t it?”
“Who?”
“The housekeeper. She came here and threatened you. Why?”
Jack’s expression tightened. “Tell you what. You come back here with a warrant or you can talk to my attorney.”
“Why would you want to protect her?” asked Charlotte as he started closing the door again. She leaned back against Declan to let him know she didn’t want him to stop him.
The door slammed shut.
“He seems nice,” said Declan.
“He’s a jerk. Granted, we’re knocking on his door at the crack of dawn after a woman pointed a gun at him. That might make me cranky, too.”
“He’s hiding something.”
“I got that feeling, too. It had to be Corentine. I just can’t imagine why he would cover for her.”
“Maybe they’re working together and had a spat.”
Charlotte considered this as they returned to the Jeep. “Maybe. They were both at both scenes.”
Is there anything about Corentine I’ve missed?
She’d seemed genuinely upset during their investigation of Ted’s death. Charlotte pictured Corentine Flores that morning, waiting to be interviewed, her hand wrapped around the downspout...
“She touched it,” she said out loud.
“What?” asked Declan, sliding into his seat.
Charlotte leaned down and pulled the fingerprinting kit from beneath the fingerprint
