I left the room in a hurry, with the detective right behind me. I could almost feel his energy. Strong. Eager. Alert. I forced myself not to glance back at him. Harper and Gran stared in my direction when they noticed me returning. He had quick quiet words with Quinn, and neither of the men looked happy. An ominous feeling took up residence in my midsection.
“Mrs. Richardson,” Detective Battle said softly when he and Quinn concluded their dialog, and I felt better about him showing kindness to her. At least he was treating her with respect, as the grieving widow. “If you wouldn’t mind coming with me, please.”
Harper glanced from me to Gran. We both nodded in encouragement for her to go. She’d have to do this on her own. There was no way they’d let us accompany her, not being related to her in any way. In fact, I’m not sure they’d let us even if we were part of her family.
As Harper followed the detective out of the room, the weight of the situation overtook me. Fully aware of the heinous crime committed here and how I hoped they’d find the culprit swiftly. Gran moved closer to me and whispered, “How’d it go?”
“Fine. The detective just wanted me to recount what I saw.” I didn’t feel like going into it all.
“I wonder why they don’t haul us all down to the police station to question us, like in the movies? Any one of us could have killed that man.” Gran wasn’t a fool. Although she hadn’t seen the condition of the body, nor had I described it to her in detail, what she had witnessed had been enough.
“Technically, that isn’t accurate. Neither you nor I were here when Mr. Richardson was attacked.”
“Everyone else was. Even James will be suspected.” Gran looked worried about that.
“Daddy will be questioned, but I doubt the police will seriously suspect him. I do find it surprising that the catering staff didn’t see anything before we arrived.”
“Yeah, that is odd. I bet one of them did it.”
“Shh.” I shook my head. “Let’s not start throwing blame around.” I didn’t want us to be overheard and rumors to begin to spread.
“Well, I can’t help wonderin’. And I bet they’ll drag to the police station whoever they narrow down as suspects.” Gran moved aside to allow a woman and her husband to pass by us. She was really obsessed with the idea of people being forced down to the police station.
I pursed my lips. “Maybe. For now, I just think it’s probably easier to speak to us all here to start with. Even with the blatant foul play, it’s standard procedure to speak to the witnesses right away. The first forty-eight hours are crucial to any investigation. People have a tendency to forget valuable pieces of information as time passes.”
Gran nodded, gazing around. “Wow. You’ve learned a lot working for Calvin.”
She was right: I had. I’d gleaned a wealth of information regarding police procedures and the law. I’d also learned that what made Uncle Calvin and me different was that at Cousins Investigative Services, we weren’t constrained by some of the legalities imposed on law enforcement.”
“So, let’s see. One of these people is probably the killer.” Gran narrowed her eyes and scoped out the people in view.
I rubbed my forehead. “The probability is high that the culprit was in attendance at some point during the evening. Probably fled the scene shortly after the attack. With blood spatter like I saw, it would be impossible to keep your clothes clean. And the scene certainly didn’t appear to be premeditated. Or the killer is here and managed to sneak out and change clothes, then returned to the event so as to not be suspected. That’s what I’d do.”
“Hmm. Yeah, that’d be smart. I’d do that too. See that woman there?” Gran pointed down the hallway, to a short, stocky woman with wispy snow-white hair coiled at the top of her head, who was whispering to a much younger brunette. They both looked to be in a bit of shock. Pale and unsure of where to look.
I covered her finger with my hand and pushed it back onto her lap. “Don’t point at Leonard’s family.”
“Yeah, we don’t want to tip them off that they’re suspects.” Gran turned to the side. “Isn’t it weird that Edna, the sister-in-law of Leonard’s first wife, still lives with him?”
“Yeah, I know it isn’t the norm. I’ve seen Edna around town on occasion, but I’ve never seen Leonard’s daughter up close.” I felt awful for the grieving Richardson family.
“No, it ain’t normal. The woman never married. Never even dated, I heard. She could’ve killed him. Maybe she’s just been biding her time.”
Edna looked older than Gran and didn’t look strong enough to kill a fly. “Please don’t go around saying things like that.”
“Hush. I’m being quiet. Or”—Gran glanced around as if in search of someone—“well, I don’t see him here, but his son should be a suspect.”
I sighed. “Why should Leonard’s son be considered a suspect?”
“Well, I hate to be a gossip”—Gran loved to gossip—“but what happened to Leonard made me think about it, something I heard the other day. Sally Anne said that Leonard’s only son has a thing for Harper. And the way she heard it, they sneak off for a pickle-tickle from time to time.”
“Eww, Gran.”
She shrugged. “Just what I heard.”
“This is not the time.”
“Okay, okay. I just thought since we needed to talk about everything while it’s fresh, it might be a good idea to explore options.” Gran pulled a napkin from her purse and began eating a truffle. She hadn’t been so shaken up that she didn’t sneak back and grab another handful of her favorite treats and hide them in her bag.
She held it out to me. There was no way I could eat anything at the moment. “No, thanks.” My head swam with thoughts. I couldn’t get what Harper had said to the person over the phone out of my head. “Don’t you dare. You’ll be sorry.” I wondered if she’d been speaking to her husband then, and that’s one of the things she’d referenced regretting. I couldn’t imagine her pain.
“Too bad your honey isn’t here.” Gran ate her truffle. “He’d sure be a help to us.”
“He’s working on a big case at the moment. I won’t see him until date night at the Klein’s with Mel and her new fella.” Brad, “my honey” as Gran referred to him, was deep into a case. Both our jobs kept us busy, and the fact that we both understood how important the other’s work was gave our relationship stability. Neither of us was in any hurry to speed things along, and Brad respected my choices and career. That my parents and Gran seemed to genuinely like Brad made the relationship all the better. Honestly, it was difficult not to like Brad when he set his mind to winning you over. Gran was right, though; Brad would find it difficult to stand idly. I was eager to discuss this with him.
“Oh, who’s little Mel seeing these days?” Gran sounded keenly interested. She loved hearing about who “her girls,” as she referred to Mel and me, were having fun with.
“Mel is going out with Wyatt Hanson.”
Gran waggled her penciled-in eyebrows. “Oh … he’s a looker. Just like his father was before he lost his hair and gained all that weight.”
“Gran!” I shook my head at my grandmother in a chastising fashion.
Quinn waved in my direction, and I started to walk toward him. “No. I need Mrs. Moody.” I gave Gran’s hand a squeeze as Quinn nodded toward the detective who had joined us.
“Mrs. Moody, this is Detective Battle—if you wouldn’t mind going with him.” Quinn made the introductions.
Detective Battle extended a hand toward Gran and gently shook hers as he smiled. “I just have a few questions for you.”
“Sure.” Gran nodded her head but swallowed. She looked nervous, and I felt helpless.
“I’ll accompany her.” I took her hand when he released his grip.
“No.” Detective Battle said.
I met his gaze, indignation filling my body. “Why?”
Before he could utter another word, in stalked my daddy with his longtime attorney, William Greene. “Chief Daniels, my mother and the rest of the Moody family will be glad to sit down with you and the detective here with our family attorney present.”
“Chief.” Mr. Greene nodded to Quinn. “Detective,” he said by way of greeting to Detective Battle. “Which would you care to begin with? Perhaps, in the interest of time, we could all sit down together. I could even bring in the lady of the house, and we could get this whole thing wrapped up in a nice bow for you.”
Detective Battle stared at Mr. Greene and then focused on Daddy. “Is there a reason you believe your family needs representation?”
“Yes,” Daddy answered firmly. “When it comes to dealing with law enforcement, it always benefits everyone involved to have someone in the field of law mediate.” My daddy was a firm believer in utilizing his right to have an attorney present no matter the circumstances.
“You have a lot of people here, Detective. That’s an awful lot of interviews to conduct. I’m only here to streamline things and be helpful.” Mr. Greene met the detective’s stare with unwavering self-assurance. How I envied that ability.
“I’m aware of how to conduct an investigation. I’ll begin with Mrs. Moody.” Apparently, Detective Battle didn’t care to be told how to do his job. He’d all but glowered at Mr. Greene. But we were drawing attention, and the detective relented, “Mr. Moody may accompany her.”
“Very well. I believe Mr. Moody has agreed to make his office available for interviews.”
After I watched my father lead the way to his office, I stood there, staring up into Quinn’s frustrated face. “Daddy is only trying to protect his family.”
Quinn kept his tone low. “I understand that, and I’m trying to find out what happened to Leonard Richardson.”
“You sound irritated. This detective seemed upset when I described the scene.”
“What do you mean?” His cool blue eyes narrowed. “He said nothing to me.”
I shrugged. Obviously I was mistaken. “Nothing. I guess I’m just not accustomed to dealing with someone like him.”
“He’s good at his job, and he knows it.” His lip curled ever so slightly, and I wondered why he’d called the guy in if he had misgivings about him. So, the man’s prowess wasn’t exactly in question. Quinn had problems with the size of his ego.
I glanced around, feeling much better knowing I’d been mistaken about my concerns with the candlestick. I cleared my throat as I spied Piper Sanchez with her phone to her ear, and that tall, thin man next to her doing the same. “Um, Quinn?”
He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah?”
He tensed slightly when I took his arm and leaned in closer. From his open expression, I assumed it was more out of surprise than apprehension to my closeness. “I don’t want to start anything, and if you’re seeing Piper, I think that’s great. But have the two of you discussed how you’ll handle the conflict of your jobs?”
“What?” Quinn’s eyes narrowed again.
I briefly pointed in Piper’s direction. “She might be on the phone with her editor as we speak. The story will be everywhere in the morning.”
His head whipped around just in time to see Piper slip out the front door.
“Oh hell, and that writer is with her.” He started to bolt, but I kept my hand on his arm; he glanced down at me. His eyes were hot with anger, not directed toward me, I could tell.
Mother had been right. “What kind of writer?”
“Mystery, I think. He blew into town last week. He’s been pestering people all over about town secrets for a book he’s writing.” He scowled. “I told Piper not to bring him. He came into the police station twice, chatting up Sergeant Landry.” Quinn’s lips thinned into a white line. “I’ve got to go.”
“What book?” I dropped my hand as he rushed after Piper. I wondered why Rosa hadn’t mentioned him before the book club meeting. I bet that guy was glad he decided to show up here. He had some new material now. Small-town murder. He could spin this so many ways.
Mother sidled up to me, and I jumped. “Where’s Quinn going?” She sounded weary.
I put my hand over my thumping heart. “To make a faulty attempt at stopping Piper from running a story.” I turned to her. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. Her emerald-green eyes were bloodshot as she tucked a caramel-brown curl behind her ear. “Have you seen your father?”
“He went with Gran and Mr. Greene. She’s being interviewed.”
“They’re letting your father stay with her?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Mr. Greene is a powerful force.”
“That’s good. I need to speak with you alone.” She leaned in. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
She took my hand, guiding me to the upstairs hallway and away from the prying eyes of others.
“Lyla, honey, listen to me. We don’t have much time. I’m so sorry you found that man.”
I search my mother’s big, round eyes. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”
“I can’t help it. Something like this …” She hugged me close and rubbed my back in a soothing fashion. I froze. My mother wasn’t the most affectionate person. She’d never showered me with lots of hugs in my childhood. In fact, she detested effusive behavior and said so. She loved me—I knew that—but she wanted me strong, and for some reason she felt too much coddling resulted in the opposite effect.
She whispered, “I’m going to ask you to do something for me, and it’s going to sound insane.”
My stomach lurched, but I said, “Of course.”
“Don’t mention anything you overhead Harper say at the public library.”
“What?” My blood ran cold.
“She told me she approached you about locating a family member and that perhaps you overhead her having a rather heated discussion on the phone.”
Okay. Harper had suspected I might have caught bits of a sensitive conversation. “You’ll be sorry.”
“Lyla.”
I pulled back, shaking my head. “I hear you but don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“You need to understand that her marriage with Leonard Richardson was a situation the police would never be able to understand.”
“What do you mean?” A shiver traveled up my spine. “Mother, lots of people get stuck in bad marriages.”
My mother emphatically shook her head. “No. Not like this.”
“I can’t withhold information. It’ll come out anyway. And I’m sure if Harper just tells the detective how unhappy she was, and is honest, he’ll clear her as a suspect.” Even as the words left my lips, I knew she believed me to be naive. Still, I always thought the truth would prevail. I had to believe it would.
“Honey, you know that isn’t true. You of all people know that sometimes things don’t work out.”
Me of all people? What in God’s name was going on here? Harper’s declaration of a troubled marriage, her rage at the library, some writer poking around, a murder, and now Mother’s request had my head spinning. Why would she be behaving this way if she doesn’t know something? I had to ask. I whispered so low I could barely hear the words: “Did Harper kill him?”
“Frances, Lyla, are you both up here?” Daddy called from the stairs, unable to see Mother and me tucked away in the shadow.
Mother’s tone, barely above a whisper, matched mine as she replied, “Do you honestly believe that young woman could hurt anyone, let alone kill them?”
“No.”
Mother grabbed my forearms and her gaze bore holes through mine. Her tone dripped with contempt when she spoke next. “That man doesn’t deserve our sympathy.” My bones chilled. I’d never seen this side of my mother before.
“But—”
Mother leaned her forehead against mine. “Do I have your word?”
Terror gripped me. “Yes …” I cleared my throat. “Yes, Mother.”
She dropped her arms and squared her shoulders. “We’re in here, James.”
Who are you? I stared at her back.