Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
He locked his hands behind his neck and leaned back in his chair. Not tease this woman? Impossible. “That’s a brave thing for a former suspect to say to an officer of the law during an ongoing investigation.”
Her breath caught. “When did I become a former suspect?”
For him? “When you looked at me with those big blue eyes.”
She batted those big blue eyes at him now. “Am I a former suspect who qualifies for a tour of the crime lab?”
Ha! So persistent. “Your thought process fascinates me, but no. No tour. However, when this is over, I’ll exchange a visit of the building for a visit of your mind. I’m taking a vacation and sitting down with you. I will ask questions, and you will answer. For days. We’ll do other things too, but one way or another, I will learn all your secrets.”
Her mouth floundered open and closed. Jane Ladling, speechless?
“Go home, Jane,” he said, laughter bubbling in his tone. “Plan your event. I’ll see you soon.”
Delight flashed in her eyes. When she oh, so obviously forced a cough to mask it, he bit his tongue and (much more thoroughly) hid his own delight.
“Right,” she said. “See you soon.” Feigning nonchalance, she offered him a casual wink. “Don’t forget to buy your ticket and pay your out-of-town fee, agent. You won’t be allowed in the cemetery otherwise.”
A portion of a smile might have slipped free. He knew beyond any doubt she wanted him there, but oh, did he enjoy the games they played. “Jane, I doubt anything can keep me away from you.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Be careful who you trust with your hidden vulnerabilities. Some people are wolves in sheep’s clothing.
–A Gravekeeper’s Guide to Dating
Conrad met Devin Hagger’s hard stare. They occupied a small interview room at GBH headquarters, a camera recording their interaction. Emma Miller sat beside the attorney on one side of a table, with Barrow on the other next to Conrad. Two against two.
“Why are we here?” The sharpness of Hagger’s question was meant to intimidate. But Conrad had faced irate, irrational foster fathers as a child; for the past decade, he’d gone toe to toe with gang leaders as well as lawyers who charged hundreds of thousands more than Aurelian Hills supposed best. He’d learned theatrics always attempted to cover insecurity.
Frankly, it surprised Conrad that Emma Miller had placed her future in the hands of her soon-to-be ex-husband’s business partner. “A man’s life was cut short. He deserves justice. We have questions, and she has answers that can help us get it for him.”
Hagger thumped the table and shook his head. “There’s justice, and there’s entrapment. Your curiosity has no bearing on the situation. My client has more than proven her innocence.”
This, Conrad was now prepared to refute. Not only with the motel clerk’s testimony. The report on the little black book had come in a half an hour ago. Every nickname in the planner but one had been assigned to the proper recipient. Like any treasure hunter, Marcus Hotchkins had kept a key. Techs found it in a secret pocket of the planner’s lining. The only member of the “buffet” the doctor had left off was the suspected gold hunter he’d referred to exclusively as Honeybun.
Yes, Hotchkins had met the hunter the night of his murder. Yes, she was a regular.
“Dr. Hotchkins named you Mashed Potatoes.” Conrad directed his words to Mrs. Miller, who flinched. He could only guess at the reasons for assigning such an awful nickname to a woman the doctor had routinely bedded. “Maybe you knew, maybe you didn’t.”
Turned out, Abigail Waynes-Kirkland wasn’t Ms. Muffins but Fried Okra.
The three chili peppers slash possible fleur-de-lys remained a thorn in Conrad’s brain. Did it rate the spiciness of his sexual encounters, point to the treasure hunt, or represent a specific person? But which one? Honeybun or someone else? What about a rival gold hunter?
“I didn’t hear a question,” Hagger snapped, smoothing a hand over his balding head.
Conrad offered no reaction, keeping his attention on Miller. “Did you conspire with Dr. Garcia to murder Dr. Hotchkins, allowing Dr. Garcia to end a disastrous business relationship while you punished the man who helped ruin your marriage?”
The nurse bristled, a lock of hair falling from a severe bun. Gone were the colorful scrubs and perky ponytail. “I did no such thing. Yes, I slept with Marcus. Often. I admit it. It happened at the motel mostly, but sometimes at the clinic, after everyone else went home. But the night of the murder, I never left my house. Feel free to question my dog, Cheddar. He stayed with me.”
“Let’s say we believe you,” Barrow said. “Let’s say you and Dr. Garcia didn’t leave the video chat running while you snuck out and met at the cemetery. Let’s say he didn’t kill Dr. Hotchkins while you cleaned up the mess. Who should we suspect?”