Close to eleven, the rest of the guests gave their contact information to the officers and were sent home. I, being the one who had discovered the body, had been asked to stay. Now, I sat across from the detective in the dining room. William Green sat next to me. I’d already given my statement more than once on the record, answering the questions regarding where I’d been before reaching my parents’ house, whom I’d seen at the library, and everywhere I’d gone afterward. I’d told him how Harper had seemed before she left for the day. I didn’t lie. Couldn’t. I told them she’d been upset about a staff member not showing up for work. And how she seemed stressed with having to perform two jobs. However, I did omit the overheard conversation. I walked him back again through my discovery and felt positive both Gran’s and the caterer’s versions would corroborate mine. I repressed my need to ask questions regarding their statements.
“What made you venture into that part of the house, Miss Moody?” Detective Battle asked again.
“Miss Moody has already answered that question, Detective Battle.” Mr. Greene leaned back in the high back chair. “And it’s getting late.”
“I realize the late hour, and I’m affording the Moodys a courtesy by giving their statements here. I could easily move this to the police department.”
How disappointed Gran must be with his decision to keep us all here. “It’s fine.” I shivered despite the warmth in the house—the aftereffects of shock, which I’d become accustomed to quickly. “I don’t mind answering again. Like I said, before our club meeting, Harper mentioned that Gran had incurred some late fees for overdue library books. Gran mentioned to me that she’d left the books in the new addition. Plus, I’d been eager to see the finished product. The event was still underway, but we didn’t dress for the occasion, and it became clear we were in the way of the caterer’s, so I decided to check it out.”
“That’s when you saw him?”
I nodded and swallowed as the image raced back to my mind’s eye. “Yes. Gran didn’t look well standing right outside the door of the library, and when I discovered that she indeed hadn’t had a stroke, I turned to investigate what had freaked her out.” I took a breath. “And because I was concerned that he might only be injured and needing help; I went inside to see if there was anything I could do. I’m CPR trained.” My shoulders slumped forward as the weight of fatigue settled into my weary bones.
“You went inside the room before or after you instructed the caterer to dial nine-one-one?” Detective Battle asked.
“After.”
“Were any of the catering staff missing at that time? Did anyone seem unusually nervous or behave strangely beforehand?”
I furrowed my brow at the new questions he’d just thrown my way. “How would I know if anyone would be missing? Ask the head chef. And the only disruptive behavior I witnessed was when the head chef chewed out one of the servers for breaking a crystal glass.”
He scribbled down something onto his little pad.
“After you went inside the room, did you immediately recognize the victim as your friend’s husband?”
I shook my head slowly. “No. I hadn’t spent that much time around Mr. Richardson. And it was only when I”—I paused, swallowing a sip of water—“got closer that I managed an identification. His, um, profile had been altered.”
He maintained eye contact while I exhaled.
“You say you haven’t spent much time with Mr. Richardson. What about his wife, Harper?”
I let out a weary sigh. “Yes. She’s a friend of our group. Harper recently joined the Jane Does.” When his eyebrows rose to his nonexistent hairline, I explained, “The Jane Does is a book club. We read true crime, mystery, and thrillers. Harper joined a few months ago, but her attendance is sporadic at best. Before that, I saw her whenever our group would meet at the library.”
“Has she ever mentioned trouble with her husband to you or anyone in your club?”
Warning bells. I cocked my head to the side as if I really needed to ponder the question.
“In my experience, ladies tend to talk a lot when they’re in large groups,” he pressed.
“Excuse me, Detective Battle,” Mr. Greene rose. “I need to use the facilities. We’ll pause the interview.”
Detective Battle tapped the recording app on his phone.
I studied him the same way he was studying me. “Surely you don’t think Harper is guilty?”
“I don’t know what to think. You mentioned earlier that you saw a”—he glanced down at his pad—“brass candlestick. It’s funny, because no one else seems to recall the item being in the room.”
I sat up straighter. “What?”
He opened his mouth and then paused, moving his hands together in a praying fashion before tapping his index fingers to his lips. “We should wait for your attorney before discussing this any further.”
I put my hand on the table. “Hold on. You mean Quinn and the other uniformed officers didn’t see it? Or just the other eyewitnesses?”
“You want to continue without your attorney?”
“I want to discuss this now. You can turn your little recorder on after he gets back.” I patted the table with my fingertips.
“Very well.” He glanced back down at his pad. “It seems either you imagined the candlestick—”
My eyes went wide. “I didn’t.”
“Well, we don’t have it in evidence, and I don’t have another single statement that mentions it being in the room or missing from it.”
Suddenly, my bravado vanished and was replaced with confusion and fear. Had someone snuck into the room and removed it from the crime scene? Perhaps the guilty party? Mother’s words came back to me: “That man doesn’t deserve our sympathy.” I didn’t believe for a single minute that my mother could be involved. But would she interfere for the sake of what she perceived as justice?
“Do you have a theory?” he said, baiting me.
I couldn’t sit here silently for very long or he’d ask more questions. Questions that I feared might lead to my conversation with my mother. It wasn’t completely outlandish to believe we might’ve been overheard. I didn’t think we had been. Still, it wasn’t worth the risk. I sat up a little straighter and glanced around. “Not a theory. I have my observations.”
He folded his big hands together and placed them on the table. “Such as?”
“I have no explanations regarding the candlestick. And I could almost swear that I saw it. Now you’ve given me pause.” I chewed on my bottom lip and wished to God I hadn’t opened my mouth without Mr. Greene. I was such an idiot. I persevered. “I understand your need to press me now. The amount of blood around the body would rule out a lot of potential suspects, and a desire for a speedy apprehension forces such behavior on your part.”
“Rule out suspects like your friend, Harper?”
“Yes. Her dress was spotless.” I raised my hand. “And before you say she might have changed clothes, it would have drawn attention if she’d shown up in one gown only to leave in another. Women notice other women’s dresses.” I didn’t want to continue to think about my mother. Still her plea kept circling in my mind. Then a thought occurred to me. “Don’t you find it odd that before I arrived, no one else noticed anything?”
“I do.” He nodded, and I leaned forward.
“He was sick—he vomited. Perhaps he went through the library to pop outside to get some air and—”
“And?” the detective prompted.
I shrugged. “And maybe there’s more to this than meets the eye.”
Mr. Greene cleared his throat from the doorway, and my face flushed.
“Why would you say that?”
I glanced back at my father’s lawyer, who sighed. He did not look happy with me. “You may continue, Detective. Nothing she said while I was out of the room is admissible.”
The detective turned the recording app back on and asked me the question again.
“I don’t know.” I sat back against the chair. “His shoe was off. It was the shoe that gave me the sense of foreboding first. It’s weird. That’s all.”
“Interesting observations. That’s why you sent your grandmother after Chief Daniels?” This time his tone was gentler. And I felt as if he were laying a trap.
“Yes.”
“Your mother said Harper spent a lot of the evening with her.”
I shook my head and said with all honesty, “I wouldn’t know about that. It makes sense. Harper’s what you would categorize as an introverted personality. Mother would have wanted her to feel welcome and comfortable here.”
“Meaning she keeps to herself?”
“Yes, mostly. I mean, she participated a little more each time during our book club meetings, but nothing personal ever.” I coughed and took another sip of water. “Excuse me.” I placed the glass back on the table. “She isn’t the type to discuss her troubles. At least not with me.” I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t delve deeper into that particular line of questioning. I did not want to lie to this man. Did not. Nothing good ever came from lying to law enforcement. But I also wanted to keep my promise to my mother—now more than ever—though I wished I’d pressed her for more answers. Her request spoke volumes regarding her connection to this case, or maybe she just pitied Harper. Still, I didn’t want her to compromise herself or an investigation out of some misguided loyalty. And I had no idea how I was going to deal with any of this. Yet.
“What’s your line of work?” The detective leaned forward, and I got the distinct impression he leaned in for the kill.
I crossed my legs as my stomach did a flip-flop. “I work for Cousins Investigative Services.”
The detective scrutinized me with his intense dark gaze. “That’s the private investigation firm owned by Calvin Cousins?”
Did he think I would cover up a crime? Or perhaps was guilty? “Yes.”
“You’re working with GBI Jones on the Interstate Eighty-five cold cases?” He’d done his homework on me—and fast for this time of night.
I folded my hands on the table, mimicking his posture. “Our office does work with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation on cases here and there. When we can.”
“That would mean that you’re familiar with police procedures.” He sat back against the chair, looking so relaxed.
Uh-oh. I met his gaze, lifting my chin and then leaned back. “Some. Surely you aren’t implying that—”
Mr. Greene covered my hands with his and squeezed. “Okay, detective. I believe that’s enough for tonight. If you need to speak to my clients again, you know where to reach me.”
The detective rose. “You do know not to leave the state, correct?”
He’s just trying to rattle me. To see if I’m hiding anything. Lord, help me. I am hiding something. I pushed up from the table, standing. “I have no intention of going anywhere. Goodnight, Detective.”