Betty had a lot to say about Bobby’s innocence, but she didn’t say much about her own. “Did you resent her control over your son’s money? You’d already spread enough malicious gossip to turn the town against her.”
Betty looked to her right and left before rallying. “Gossiping about the woman who tore my family apart doesn’t make me a killer.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t make you a killer, but your animosity toward her gives you a motive.” I wasn’t searching for a killer; I was looking for suspects. I wasn’t trying to solve Fiona’s murder, and maybe that made me a bad person. I’d leave that part to the deputies. I only wanted to clear Jo.
“For the last time, my boy is no killer. And neither am I.” Betty spoke slowly as though she thought I was confused. “So don’t you lie on my boy. You hear me?” Final warning delivered, she spun on her heel and started toward my door.
“Why did you attend Fiona’s book signing?”
Betty stopped and faced me. Her eyes simmered with resentment. “Jo’s bookstore is a public place, and I have the right to go anywhere I want. Don’t I?”
“Where were you before the signing?”
“I was at home. Alone.” Betty clipped the words. “Doing chores. Not that it’s any of your darn business.”
The deputies had told Spence they’d checked Betty’s alibi. Household chores weren’t much of an alibi. How had the deputies verified that? Had they given her home a white-glove test?
“What about Bobby?” I searched her defiant features, looking for any shift in her expression. “Do you know where he was?”
She hesitated. A shadow flickered over her features. “My son’s not a cold-blooded killer, and you’d darn well better not go around saying anything different.”
A chill chased down my spine as I dropped onto the chair behind me. Betty’s voice was confident, but her words weren’t. I detected the ambiguity in her response. Was it possible Mama Bear had doubts about her Baby Bear’s innocence? What had Bobby said or done to put that uncertainty in Betty’s mind?
Chapter 14
“Betty attacked you?” Jo scooted forward on the overstuffed sky-blue sofa in my living room, where she sat with Spence later that evening. Her voice squeaked with anger.
“Not physically; verbally.” I faced Jo and Spence from the matching armchair across the room. My mind was still spinning from the angry confrontation with Betty. Luckily, Jo and Spence had been able to meet with me on short notice after dinner.
Phoenix didn’t care that we had company. He’d snubbed us, choosing to remain alone in the foyer. He gave us his back as he stared out the French doors. Earlier, I’d tried to lure him away from that spot, but nothing I’d said or done had had any effect. In the end, I’d brought him his food and respected his solitude.
He’d once again dragged all his belongings—his bed, food bowl, toys, and favorite blanket—to the living room and stacked them in front of the door. I’d stumbled over them when I’d gotten home earlier. Was his action a sign he was feeling ignored? He’d never done that in New York. After I’d put away his treasures, I’d again called the veterinarian Lonnie Norman, the pet shop owner, had recommended. As Lonnie had predicted, the doctor’s calendar was full—which was an encouraging testament to her popularity—but her receptionist had found an opening for Friday evening, three days from today. I think it had helped that Lonnie had called her on my behalf.
“Betty’s just moved to the top of my suspects list.” Jo’s comment tugged me back to our meeting. “Regardless of whether her attack was physical or verbal, she obviously has a temper.”
“Which probably was caused by her perceived threat to her child.” Spence gestured toward me. “Marvey said Betty seemed focused on protecting Bobby, not defending herself.”
Jo switched her frown from me to Spence seated beside her. “Whose side are you on?”
Spence’s expression softened. “I’m after the truth, and I know you’re innocent.”
“I’m sorry.” Jo’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m still irritated that the deputies are determined to investigate me while ignoring Betty and Bobby, and not even looking into Zelda’s past with Fiona.”
“Betty’s a much stronger suspect than you.” I rubbed the creases between my eyebrows. “That’s all we’re trying to convey to the deputies, that there are suspects with equally strong if not stronger motives than yours.”
Spence propped his right ankle onto his left knee. “One meeting isn’t enough to go on, especially since she was so emotional.”
“Spence is probably right.” Jo started to bite her nails. She caught my warning look and dropped her hand to her lap. “As much as I’d love to point the finger at someone else, I don’t want to implicate an innocent person just to clear my name.”
“I checked with my contact at the coroner’s office.” Spence looked from Jo to me. “Fiona died from blunt force trauma to her head.”
Curiosity had me on the edge of my seat. “Who’s your contact in the coroner’s office?”
“Journalists must protect our sources.” He gave me a wry look before continuing. “Fiona was probably pushed backward. Her head hit a corner of the table as she fell. She died almost instantly.”
“That explains why no one heard her scream.” I experienced a wave of grief almost as strong as the one that had hit me the afternoon we’d discovered Fiona’s lifeless body.
Spence nodded somberly. “Based on the angle of the wounds, my contact believes Fiona was stabbed as she lay on the ground. Her body sustained five wounds from a curved, eight-inch blade.”
“A curved blade?” There was dread in Jo’s voice. “The killer must’ve used one of our box cutters. There were two in the storage room. One’s missing.”
Spence and I exchanged a concerned look. That the murder weapon belonged to Jo—or rather, to her store—was another factor against her. First, Jo and Fiona had argued. Second, it was Jo’s store. Third, it
