“Am I being questioned for murder?” I let out a laugh, which caused Alex to look even more confused. “I’m totally innocent.”
Which is exactly what a guilty person would say. I needed to stop laughing and shut up.
“We’ll probably want a more formal statement from you. Is there anyone who can vouch for your whereabouts today?”
“Well, my sister, and the server at the café. And...” I racked my brain. “Oh! My sister’s tenant. I spoke with him around four-thirty-ish, right before I received the gator call.”
“Hm. Tenant? Have a name?”
“Jack Bianchi.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed faintly, as if he didn’t believe me.
“He’s a professor from the University of Miami. He’s on sabbatical and here writing a book.”
“OK. Thank you.” There was an awkward pause while he slid my business card into his chest pocket.
“Am I free to go?”
He nodded curtly. “I’d advise you not to leave town for the next few days. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks. I hope you get to the bottom of this. Even though I didn’t like Gene, no one deserves to die out here, like this. I’m happy to help with anything.” I flashed him a tight smile.
We both rose from the picnic table and walked toward my truck.
“If you happen to know of anyone who had it in for Gene, let me know, OK?” His voice was a touch less flinty, and my shoulders relaxed away from my ears.
“Vera’s the best source for that because she knows everyone in town. She’s probably at home. Or you can find her at the shop tomorrow.” I gave him the address, which was silly because it was on our business card.
“Good deal,” he said, then pulled out a business card of his own. “Here’s my number, in case you think of anything else.”
I thanked him and climbed into my truck, reaching for my cell. Vera still hadn’t called. Now I was truly concerned. It took all of my remaining patience not to gun the engine out of the parking lot and peel away in frustration, but I managed.
# # #
I raced home, and exhaled when I saw lights in the windows of my sister’s sprawling home. After running up the front steps, I shook as I unlocked the door.
“Vera, where are you?” I cried, feeling feverish and sweaty.
She was sitting on the overstuffed tan sofa, glass of wine in hand. In the matching recliner chair was Jack, who was sitting with his feet up. Catsy was stretched on Jack’s chest and was purring so loud that I could hear her from ten feet away.
I paused and stared at him. He beamed at me. This was no time to flirt.
“Catsy, get down.” I waved my arm and of course she ignored me because someone was giving her attention. “Is she bothering you?”
Jack shook his head, looking shockingly cozy with my kitty. “We’re bonding. Is that her name? Catsy?”
“Short for Catsy Cline,” I replied, probably a bit too curt.
“Thank goodness you’re home.” Vera drained her glass and reached for the open bottle on the coffee table. “You’re not going to believe what happened to me.”
“You’re not going to believe what happened tome,” I countered. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
“Here, we have a glass for you.” She grabbed an empty tumbler and poured. “What happened to you?”
“No, you first. I need a drink or three.” I sank down next to her and took a gulp.
“OK. Well, after you and I had lunch, I went to the post office. It took so long, gah.” I noticed that her face was free of makeup, which made her vitiligo more visible. Not by a lot, and not enough to mar her beauty—in my opinion, at least. “Then I went to the park for a walk. You know, the one with the boardwalks over the swamp. Needed to clear my head after that situation with Gene at lunch, since he really frosted my butt. I left everything but my key in the car. Didn’t even take my cell.”
