I tossed the folder on the side table and led her to a chair.
“Sit down and take a few deep breaths. Then you can tell me everything that happened with the sheriff. Do you want me to get you a glass of water?”
Dolores waved me off. “No. No, thank you. I am really fine, just kind of shocked. He asked me the same stupid questions, but the shock was . . . Oh, Jess, Sheriff Halvorson said that Willis was murdered! Can you imagine? It happened sometime around midnight. Someone hit him with one of those white rocks from the sitting garden. They found the rock in the pool.”
None of that surprised me. I wondered only why it took so long for the sheriff to tell Dolores, and why he didn’t want me in the room as a support for her when he was bringing such horrible news.
Dolores’s next sentence made it perfectly clear: “He also said . . . he said coming to the house today was a courtesy on his part but from now on whenever we speak it would have to be at his office because—oh, I can hardly say the words—Sheriff Halvorson is declaring me a person of interest. Me! A person of interest in Willis’s murder.”
Her voice broke and she erupted into tears.
Chapter Fifteen
I pulled a couple tissues from my skirt pocket and Dolores took them gratefully.
“I don’t understand. Why would anyone want to harm Willis, much less kill him? And why on earth would the sheriff think it was me? I loved him. I wanted us to spend the rest of our lives together. And so did Willis.”
I waited until her tears diminished, then said, “Dolores, I know you realize this is serious. The sheriff told you that you are a person of interest so that you can prepare yourself for what is to come. I suggest you hire the best criminal lawyer you can possibly find.”
“Marcus Holmes is the only lawyer I know. Do you think he can help me?”
I shook my head. “From your description he handles civil matters, business affairs and such. However, I’m sure he can recommend a criminal attorney . . .”
Dolores bolted from her chair. “Only a few days ago my life was picture-perfect; now, on top of my life being in ruins, I’m accused of being a criminal. Jess, I can’t deal. I just can’t.” She began pacing in a circle.
“Settle down. I will take care of finding a lawyer, and then we’ll go to the kitchen and ask Lucinda for a nice pot of tea and perhaps some sandwiches or snacks. How does that sound?”
I could tell by the way Dolores shrugged her shoulders that she was humoring me when she said, “I guess.”
“Now, where would I find Marcus Holmes’s phone number?” I asked.
“Center desk drawer. Willis has the tidiest address book. You’ll find Marcus easily.”
I opened the drawer and the black leather book was dead center. I looked under “H.” No luck, but he was the very first entry on the “L” page. I guess Willis believed that Marcus’s profession was more important than his name.
A young man answered the phone on the second ring. I gave my name and explained I was calling on behalf of Dolores Nickens and wished to speak to Mr. Holmes. He put me on hold; a minute later he picked up the call to say he would be right back, and put me on hold again. I was tapping my toe impatiently as I watched Dolores sink lower into her chair, becoming muddled by the panic that was setting in minute by minute.
At last I heard the phone line come alive. A young lady asked, “Is that Mrs. Willis Nickens?”
And before I could say anything more than “Hello,” she put me on hold. But a few seconds later, a man said, “Dolores, I am so sorry about Willis. I meant to call sooner, but the truth is, I didn’t want to intrude.”
Talk about confusion. “Mr. Holmes?”
“Why, yes, Mrs. Nickens . . .”
“I am not Dolores Nickens. My name is Jessica Fletcher and I am calling on Dolores’s behalf.”
“Oh, I see. Well, what can I do for you, Mrs. Fletcher? I promise you I will render any and all assistance to Mrs. Nickens during this, er, terrible time.”
“I am glad to hear you say that, Mr. Holmes, because your assistance is exactly what she needs. We have only recently learned that Willis Nickens was murdered . . .”
“What? No! How is that possible? I mean, who? A burglar, something like that?” He was so flustered he was stumbling over his words. “Are you absolutely sure? Of course you are.”
I wished he would stop talking and let me get to the point.
At long last he began to wind down. “Who would say something like that if it wasn’t true . . . ? Er, of course you’re sure. How can I help you, Mrs. Fletcher?”
“Mr. Holmes, I am sorry to tell you that—quite erroneously, I assure you—Sheriff Halvorson has decided that Mrs. Nickens is a person of interest in the inquiry regarding the death of her husband.”
There—I couldn’t make it any starker. I was hoping to shake him into action. Instead, my words had the exact opposite effect: His bluster began anew.
“Great Scott! Well, you do realize that I am not a practitioner of criminal law. It would be malpractice for me to even advise . . .”
I interrupted his rambling. “Mrs. Nickens is merely asking for you to recommend an attorney who does practice criminal law and who could advise her in this situation.”
I could feel him relax right through the phone. “Of course. Of course, that makes perfect sense. And for everyone’s protection it is probably wisest to delay the reading of the will until this is all sorted out.”
I didn’t like the sound of that one bit, but right now Dolores had more important things
