Dylan sits, but I wander around the room. Science was my second-favorite subject behind math when I was in high school. I’m curious to see what the kids are up to these days.
Something about plants and animals and the order of nature has always appealed to me. I have to smile when I see all the items on the back counter, just as they were when I was in this class. Plants thriving under grow lights, a snake with red eyes that makes me shiver, and some cute mice. And last but not least, little tree frogs round out the menagerie. All the animals and plants probably descended from the same ones Dylan and I studied in school.
Emily, or Mrs. Kingsley, as I called her back then, was one of many teachers who encouraged me to earn my advanced degree from MIT. I wonder if I disappointed them all when I gave up my engineering career after only a few years to become a chef?
I turn around in time to see Emily shoot Dylan a nervous glance over the laptop before her eyes quickly cut back to the screen. She probably hates that we heard such a personal phone call and wonders if we’ll tell anyone who’ll listen. Gossip spreads around here like wildfire.
Emily closes the lid on her computer and folds her hands. “Tell Brittany to finish reading chapter eight and then do the odd-numbered exercises at the end. She can email me with questions.” Emily stands, signaling the end of our meeting.
I nod. “Great. Thanks. But can I ask you a question?”
Emily picks up her phone and checks the time. “If it’s a quick one.”
Before I can ask, Dylan stands next to me and says, “Why did you swap the name tags on Tina’s purple roses for your red ones yesterday?”
Emily’s body jerks back as if Dylan punched her. “Well…I…didn’t realize anyone saw that.” She slowly sinks back into her chair. “This is embarrassing, Sheriff, but I’ve always had a penchant for purple blooms. I didn’t think Tina would mind, but she wasn’t there yet to ask.” Emily lifts her gaze and meets Dylan’s. “I apologize. Especially because of what happened to Tina…” Distress creases Emily’s forehead.
“No worries. Just checking off some boxes.” Dylan taps a note into his phone. “But can I see your fingers?”
“Why?” Emily holds out her palms.
Dylan smiles sweetly. “Seems the Admiral forgot to strip the thorns before he arranged the roses. I just wanted to be sure you didn’t get poked too.”
“Simply switching name tags wouldn’t earn me a poke, would it?” Emily’s brows hitch.
“Wouldn’t think so.” Dylan’s foot nudges mine toward the door. “Sorry to interrupt your lunch. Have a good day.”
Emily tilts her head as if puzzled. “You too.”
When we get out into the hall, I ask, “Why did you ask to see her fingers?”
“Tina had a pink rose near her hand when she died. Why did she have a single rose in her hand when she had a whole bouquet waiting for her?”
“To smell it.” Obviously. “Or because someone, typically a person who likes you, hands it to you. But why would that matter?”
“It’s the second part that intrigues me. Did someone hand Tina that rose?” Dylan holds the front door open for me.
As I pass through the door, I say, “She probably grabbed one out of a bunch to smell it. Women do that.”
“True,” Dylan agrees as we descend the front steps. “So either Emily didn’t smell hers, or she was more careful than Tina. Just another fact to throw into the mix. Want to grab a greasy burger at the diner?”
“Not especially.” Does he think someone handed Tina a rose? Like my father? Or my uncle? I need to get to the bottom of this theory. “I have leftover chicken enchiladas at my house if you’d like that instead.” It’s always easier to get information out of Dylan if there’s food involved to distract him.
“Even better.” Dylan takes my hand, and we hit the path, strolling at a pleasant pace.
While we walk alongside the cliffs, I’m still puzzling over Dylan’s interrogation questions. He once told me that sometimes the most mundane answers turn out to be clues, but most of the time, simple facts don’t have a thing to do with anything important. It’s what makes solving crimes difficult. But the more information you have, the better.
I ask, “Did you get a chance to ask the doctor at the clinic about Tina’s eyes? She was alive, but not blinking. Meg said that could happen with paralysis and head trauma, but a simple fall wouldn’t usually cause that.”
Dylan slowly nods. “I agree. It makes more sense she was murdered.”
“Woo-woo Beth thinks it’s definitely murder.”
Dylan stops in his tracks. “She didn’t mention that to me this morning.”
“You don’t believe her mumbo jumbo, do you?” Beth’s mother ran off with Dylan’s dad years ago, so Dylan avoids speaking to Beth for the most part.
Dylan whips out his phone. “What else did she tell you?”
“That she didn’t know who did it. There was too much emotion involved or something. Just that it had to do with an affair and jealousy.”
Dylan’s thumbs tap furiously away on his phone. When he’s done, he says, “Can I have a rain check on lunch? I need to talk to Beth.”
Seriously? “You believe her?”
Dylan shrugs as he tucks his phone away. “In the years you were gone, she gave me a few tips about petty crimes. She’s never been wrong. And she wasn’t wrong about Raphe and the golf ball through your store’s window.”
“Maybe that’s because my uncle knew something about all those things. She must overhear a lot in her position. I’m still convinced my uncle was behind Joe Kingsley setting Raphe up to shoot the ball through my window.”
Dylan slowly nods. “She wasn’t wrong about my father’s heart attack.”
I lift a finger. “That she could’ve gotten from her mom. Maybe your dad showed symptoms. But still,
