“Nope, not a one.” Dabney spoke around a mouthful of cobber.
Etta glared at him before shifting her attention to me. “I wouldn’t have a clue. But you might want to ask Jo who’d want to frame her for murder.”
That was a very good question.
After collecting my café mocha and peach cobbler from Anna May, I went in search of Willy, mentally practicing my speech as I strode through the café. I hoped he hadn’t left while I’d been engaged with Etta and Dabney.
To my relief, he was still alone at his table for two. “Excuse me, Mr. Pelt.”
Willy rose from his chair, his brown eyes cautious as he looked down at me. He was nearly as tall as Spence. “I met you Saturday over at the bookstore, didn’t I?” His Southern roots were exposed in his voice. “Marvey Harris, isn’t that right? Please call me Willy.”
“Thank you.” I swept my arm to encompass our surroundings. “You’ve found the most popular place in town.”
He returned my smile. “This coffee shop was spoken of very highly over at the Peach Coast Inn, where I’m staying. After the breakfast they served me, I can understand why.”
“Mr. Pelt—Willy—I didn’t get an opportunity to offer my condolences to you Saturday. I heard you and Fiona were friends.”
“Thank you, Ms. Marvey. Your words are a great kindness. Do you have time to join me?” He gestured toward the extra seat at his wood laminate table.
I consulted my Apple Watch. There were still a few minutes until I had to be at work, and the library was less than a block away. Glancing over my left shoulder, I found several sets of eyes watching us with open curiosity or blatant surprise. This included Anna May, Etta, and Dabney. I suppressed a smile as I turned my back to them and settled onto the chair. “Thank you, and you can just call me Marvey.”
“Thank you.” Willy folded his long, lanky body onto the little chair. “You’re the only person who’s acknowledged that Fiona and I were friends.” His gaze swept the area. I sensed his resentment. “It seems like she didn’t have many of those here.”
Searching for a comforting response, I recalled a comment Viv had shared during our coffee break yesterday. “People didn’t know Fiona well. I heard she was a very private person.”
“That’s true.” A sad smile hovered over the man’s thin lips. He was perhaps fifteen years older than my twenty-eight. His rich auburn hair made his skin appear even paler. “I’d wanted to organize a small memorial service for her once the deputies release her body, but I’m afraid the effort would be wasted. I’m not convinced anyone would come.”
I felt sorry for the poor man. He needed to share his grief with others who’d cared, but he’d come to the wrong town for that. “I’d come. And I’m sure there would be others.”
“No, it’d be a wasted effort.” A trace of anger tightened his voice.
I sought to change the subject—and slip in some investigating. “How long did you know Fiona?”
“Almost ten years.”
“Wow. That’s a long time. How did you two meet?” I sipped my mocha and felt the jolt of the extra espresso. My gaze dipped to the few crumbs on the white porcelain dessert plate in front of Willy. He seemed to have enjoyed Anna May’s peach cobbler.
“I was her uncle’s lawyer.” The happier memories chased the shadows from Willy’s broad features. “I own a law firm in Beaufort. That’s in South Carolina. Fiona’s uncle, Leroy Lyle, was one of my biggest clients. Fiona was very close to him. Lung cancer took his life almost three years ago.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her uncle had died three years ago, her husband last year, and now Fiona was dead. It was like death had been stalking her. A chilling thought.
“Thank you, Ms.—Marvey. Leroy wasn’t just a client. He was also a good friend. Now they’re both gone.”
My heart ached for him, losing two friends so close together. I couldn’t imagine the grief. “It was nice of you to come to Fiona’s first author event.”
“I wanted to surprise her.” His eyes clouded again. “Now, I’m sorry I hadn’t gotten into town early enough to see her before the signing. I would’ve liked to have talked with her one last time, told her how proud I was of her. She had so much talent.”
“What time did you arrive?” Note to self: Check the distance between Beaufort and Peach Coast, and the time it would take to travel between the two. Willy’s grief seemed genuine, but I needed to cross all the T’s and dot all the I’s.
Willy paused. “I drove straight to the bookstore and pulled into the parking lot. I didn’t have time to stop at the hotel. It was after four o’clock, and the signing had started. I met Betty Hayes and her son, and Nolan Duggan on my way into the store.”
That sounded plausible. Nolan had entered the bookstore alone, but Betty and Bobby had arrived just minutes after him. Willy had been with them. “How long of a drive is that? I find the time and distances between places fascinating.”
Willy flashed a co-conspiratorial smile. “Well now, it’s not much of a drive, only about a couple of hours. I didn’t even rent a car. Stopped for brunch and still made it in less than two hours.”
“But you were highly motivated to attend Fiona’s signing.” My smile faded. “We didn’t know much about her. Now that she’s gone, I regret not taking time to get to know her better.” I felt guilty for lying to him, but consoled myself that my misrepresentations were in an effort to get justice for Jo—and Fiona.
Willy looked around the café again. “I know Ms. Betty and her son have unjustly maligned Fiona’s character to everyone in this town who’d listen. I have a feeling that would be pretty much
