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Beverly paced the floor of the Ironwood PD reception area, not caring if she carved out a groove in the black-and-beige checkerboard tiles. The receptionist, sporting the nametag Arline Newton, told her half an hour ago Adam Dutton was unavailable, but she’d let him know he had a visitor.
Beverly hadn’t given the receptionist her real name, afraid Adam might duck out a side door if he knew who his visitor really was. So, she used the same name she’d used to con a robber baron out of a yellow jade Bianhu Qing Dynasty vase—after he obtained it by foreclosing on an elderly woman who fell behind on a four-hundred-dollar sewer bill.
The soulless monster bought the house and furnishings in a tax sale for seven hundred dollars and evicted the woman from the home she’d lived in for more than fifty years. Not wanting a traceback to the woman, Beverly sold the vase for forty grand and deposited the money in the woman’s bank account anonymously.
Looking at her watch and noting that forty-five minutes had passed, Beverly was about ready to charge down the hallway to Adam’s office, when the man himself walked through the reception door. He didn’t see her at first until Ms. Newton pointed her out. Beverly was extremely satisfied to see the look of shock on his face—and a touch of guilt. Good.
Adam walked up to her slowly. “You’re ‘Lynnette Furmanski?’”
She made him stew for a moment, then said, “Either we go someplace and talk privately, or I create a huge scene right here. Which will it be?”
Adam rubbed the back of his neck, then silently held out his hand to indicate she should follow him. They ended up in an office that had his nameplate on the desk, although she didn’t take the time to catalog the other details of the space like plaques on the wall and books. She was too steamed to care.
She sat in the chair farthest from him and folded her arms across her chest. “Are you going to tell me now why you arrested Harlan Wilford, one of the nicest, kindest, most law-abiding folks in the universe?” To drive the nail further in, she added, “The man who also happens to be a surrogate father to you?”
When he didn’t answer right away, she said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He retorted, “Why didn’t you tell me you were in town?”
They glared at each other for a moment, then he said, with a touch of anger in his voice, “Hell, I almost arrested you a couple months ago. It’s part of the job. I don’t willy-nilly pick and choose who I arrest and who I don’t. Especially when there’s murder involved.”
“Murder?” Beverly’s voice rose an octave. “You’re telling me you arrested Harlan for murder? That’s preposterous.”
Adam leaned his forearms on the desk and sighed. “I know.”
“You know? What do you mean, you know? And if you know, why is he in jail?”
“He had an argument with the victim shortly before his murder, the murder weapon belonged to Harlan with only his fingerprints on it, and one of Harlan’s monogrammed handkerchiefs with the victim’s blood on it was found at the scene. And Harlan doesn’t have an alibi.”
Beverly settled down to think about that for a minute. “Obviously, he was framed.”
“Obviously to you and to me. But not to anyone else. Yet.”
“You think this is Mayor Lehmann’s doing? To get back at you for humiliating him? Not to mention the fact his wife Zelda wants to have an affair with you. Even if she is your ex.”
Adam got up briefly to close the door to his office. “No one else knows about that, and I’d like to keep it that way. But yes, I’d thought about that very thing.”
He had the audacity to look surprised she’d thought of it. Damn the man. She thought they’d learned to respect each other’s viewpoints more than that.
“Okay, then, we’re on the same page.” The iron weights of stress on Beverly’s shoulders started to ease off, if just a little bit. “What about Reggie Forsythe? I know he’s comatose after his suicide attempt, but what about some of his associates? They might try to get back at you through Harlan.”
“Yeah, it’s more likely than the Mayor Lehmann scenario. Lehmann’s still gunning for the governorship. Wants to keep his image squeaky clean, especially after the way the Forsythe case turned out. The man’s got more balls than I thought.”
“That’s not what Zelda thinks, is it?” Beverly smirked at him.
The ghost of a smile played around Adam’s lips, but it disappeared almost as soon as it came. He stared at her for a few moments, as if examining her under a microscope. “It’s good to see you again, Beverly. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t.”
“You got that telegram I sent?”
He nodded. “I believe you said something about settling down in Ironwood Junction.”
She twisted a strand of hair around her fingers. “Settling has so many definitions. As in to place in order, or to pay a bill, or calm your stomach or stop from annoying someone, or it can also mean to make a liquid clear or cause something to sink down.”
“Were you aware you babble when you’re uncomfortable?”
She stopped twisting her hair and clasped her hands in her lap. “I’ve been told that, yes.”
Then a small twinkle formed in his eyes. “You could at least have dinner with me. To discuss Harlan’s case.”
Beverly hesitated. Should she? It was just dinner. But an image of Harlan sitting alone in a small cell popped into mind, and she replied, “I have other plans tonight. I’m eating dinner with a friend.”
The twinkle was replaced by a glint of something like hurt, though it disappeared as quickly as it had come. “That would be Mr. X, no doubt?”
“He invited me to stop by.”
“I’m not surprised. I suspected he was the source of your information about Harlan’s arrest. Wish we had him helping us since he seems to know about everything that happens around here.”
“He likes you. Told me to kill you gently.”
Adam uttered a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Gently.” The raw look on his face almost made her change her mind, but he hurriedly added, “I know you asked me to help investigate Forsythe’s cronies. To make the rest of them pay for what they did to your grandmother and others like her. But Harlan’s case takes priority.”
Beverly surprised herself by chiming in, “Of course it does!” Two months ago, she wouldn’t have said anything of the kind. What had changed? For one thing, two of the NAL ringleaders, the Forsythe father-and-son duo, were out of the game. And for another, well. . .she’d got quite attached to Harlan.
Beverly frowned. “So, where do we go from here? What’s Harlan’s next step in the system?”
“He’s got an arraignment scheduled for tomorrow at ten in the morning.”
“You mean for bail?”
“That’s right.”
“What are the chances a murder suspect will get out on bail?”
“In Vermont, judges set bail based only on the risk the defendant will flee or otherwise fail to appear. If Judge Ponte is half the man I think he is, he’ll agree to bail. But the amount could be pretty stiff.”
“How much?”
“High enough a bail bondsman wouldn’t touch it. I could deed over my property to the court to secure the release of Harlan on bail. But I don’t think that would look right. And could be fodder for a prosecutor’s claim I’m too close to the suspect, and any evidence I offer up is tainted.”
Beverly blurted out, “Agnes could do it.”
“Agnes? You mean your grandmother’s friend, Agnes Flamm?”
“I’m helping her fix up her old antiques store. She’s going to open up a wine shop and cafe.”
“She doesn’t know Harlan. Why would she do that?”
“She knows how I feel about him. And he’s a fellow antiques lover.” It was beyond presumptuous for Beverly to think of it, let alone mention it to Adam. So why had she?
Adam just stared at her again. She felt anew the way those lovely mocha-brown eyes of his made her toes curl and a warm tingling sensation wiggle its way up her spine. Why hadn’t she let him know she was in town? And Mr. X hadn’t exactly asked her over for dinner, so why didn’t she accept Adam’s invitation?
No, no relationship distractions, not in October and not now. Harlan’s freedom depended upon it. With renewed resolve in her heart and that tingly spine firming up into steel, she hopped up from her chair. “Guess I’ll see you at the arraignment.”
He called after her, “Wait a minute. Are you staying with Agnes Flamm or at the Apple Valley Resort again?”
As she opened the door, she replied, “At the resort. Same room.”
She said the last words louder, not caring what Adam’s colleagues thought. If she were honest, she’d have to admit she was being a little wicked.
Still angry about the thought of Harlan warming a jail bench, she got into her car and drove around town with no real destination in mind. Then she remembered Harlan’s assistant, Prospero. Surely he must know something?
She turned the car around so fast, she nearly hit a van headed in the opposite direction. Ignoring the finger he gave her, she raced to Harlan’s Tossed Treasures store, parked, and tried the front door. Locked. Knowing there was a rear entrance, she hurried toward it and was pleased to see it unlocked.
After she slipped in, she headed to the front and spied Prospero at the counter. But right as she got ready to pepper him with questions, she noticed another man inside the store. He was on his hands and knees in front of a display case using something that looked like a cross between a radar gun and a camera. And he was wearing a blue police jacket with the name Brimm on the pocket.
She strode up to him. “Detective Brimm?”
He took off the goggles he was wearing and looked up at her. “Not a detective. Yet. A forensic technician. I’m not sure how you got in here, Miss. . .”
“Laborde. Beverly Laborde.”
“Ah, yes. I’ve heard all about you. But it would be better if you came back another time.”
Beverly glanced at Prospero, who was behind the counter and looking miserable. “Prospero, how did all this happen?”
Harlan’s assistant wrung his hands together. “It’s all my fault. I wanted to put in a security system. But Harlan was against it. People are friendly, he said, and it would drive them away. I should have insisted.”
“It’s not your fault, Prospero. Or Harlan’s.” She moved closer to Brimm, who put out his hand. “Please. Evidence. You really should go.”
“Well, I’m here now. And I won’t touch anything.” Studying the device in his hand, she asked, “What’s that?”
“ALS. Alternate light source. Contains ultra-violet, visible, and infrared components of light. Filters the light into individual wavelengths that enhance the visualization of evidence. Fluorescence, absorption, oblique lighting.”
“For fingerprints? I thought you used powder.”
“Sometimes. Despite what the TV shows say, fingerprint powders can contaminate evidence. This baby can also find body fluids, hair and fibers, gunshot residues, drug traces, and a lot more.”
Had she blundered in the worst possible way? Contaminating the crime scene and hurting Harlan’s chances of being proven innocent? But her curiosity couldn’t help it. She asked, “Have you found signs of a break-in?”
“Not at the doors. Nothing like using a crowbar or a screwdriver or a bump key. Could have used a lock pick kit if they knew what they were doing. But I’ll take some high-res photos and examine them in the lab to be sure.”
Beverly nodded and then apologized. “Sorry for barging in. I didn’t know you were here.”
“Did you touch the back doorknob?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Fortunately, I’ve examined that one. But just in case, I may have to get your prints to rule them out.”
Her eyes widened at that. She’d always avoided getting fingerprinted out of fear her prints would be found at the site of one of her cons and get her arrested. She’d not only blundered on Harlan’s behalf, but she’d thrown herself into the tar pit along with him. She apologized profusely to Prospero and Brimm, who stood up to unlock the front door with his gloved hands and let her out.
What should she do now? Adam would be furious with her. Well, more furious than he already was. She slid into the SUV and banged her head on the steering wheel. There was nothing she could do about it. With any luck, her stunt wouldn’t set Harlan’s case back too much. And her prints wouldn’t have to wind up in a database.
But was she going to sit around and do nothing? Absolute not. Not proactive Beverly, no sir. Only one left thing to do—she needed a “dinner date,” after all.
