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What was with the men in her sphere, always bossing her around? “Well, I really don’t need to say anything else because that isn’t a lie... exactly.” She bit her bottom lip. A ridiculous nervous habit she’d developed during the last case. “For all I knew, Ana had a lifesaving inhaler or EpiPen she desperately needed.”
Another car pulled up and parked in the drive, visible through the window.
“Conrad!” She spotted him as he stepped from the familiar sedan. Finally!
She jumped up, tossing her friend his phone, and rushed over to flatten her palm on the pane of glass. Her heart thudded as she looked him over. Conrad was as tall and muscular as Beau, with hair so black it gleamed blue in the sunlight. A prominent brow, strong nose and bronze skin only added to his appeal. The dark shadow dusting his jaw hinted at a sleepless night and a rough morning.
He wore a tailored suit and tie, just like the one he’d sported the first day they’d met, and he was so handsome he stole her breath. Sunglasses shielded intense amber eyes, but she sensed the moment he’d spotted her and their gazes locked. But all too soon, he offered her a stiff nod and turned to speak to someone else. His partner, Special Agent Tim Barrow, an older man with salt and pepper hair, skin weathered by the sun and a prominent belly. He’d all but paced across the porch since his arrival bright and early this morning. He too was dressed exactly as before: a blue, collared shirt with khakis.
Her stomach twisted with nerves. Neither man ventured inside the house. Instead, they spoke with a woman who then strode to the porch and knocked on the front door.
Uh-oh. This couldn’t be good. Dreams of no foul play crashed and burned.
Jane shoved today’s hat on her head, even though she planned to remain indoors. Deep breath in. Out. Okay. A measure of calm settled over her. Let’s do this.
She opened the entrance, old hinges creaking. “Yes!” Whoa. Too forceful. Almost guilty. She pasted on a bright smile. “Hello. I’m Jane Ladling, the owner and operator of Garden of Memories, where your loved ones rest in beauty as well as peace.” The company motto slipped out, exactly as it had done the day she’d met Conrad and Agent Barrow. “I’m the one who found the body. How may I help you?”
“I’m Agent Hightower. I’d like to ask you a few questions. May I come in?”
“Of course. Yep. I have no problems with that. No reason to refuse.” Did she? Jane awkwardly stepped aside, allowing the investigator to enter.
The other woman towered over Jane’s five-five frame, exactly as that last name promised. Very pretty and probably in her mid-thirties, with dark hair cut in an inverted bob that complimented strong features. The straightness of her shoulders made her almost regal.
Jane didn’t mean to, but nerves got the better of her. “I’m Jane, by the way.” Wait. They’d covered that earlier. The silence was getting to her, that was all. “Please, sit anywhere you’d like. No one bites. Except Rolex. He’s already plotted to kill you eighteen different ways.” Seriously. Shut up. “Not that murder is always on his mind. Or mine.”
Rolex swiped his paws at the newcomer as she settled in a chair at the hearth and withdrew a small notebook and pen. Jane eased into the seat across from her, missing her own investigative pad. A little blue beauty she’d named Truth Be Told.
“Will Conrad–I mean, Special Agent Ryan–be joining us today?” she asked, doing a bang-up job of hiding her eagerness.
“No.”
She offered no other words, and Jane deflated. Did that mean the higher ups already considered Jane a suspect, and this was to be a full-on interrogation?
“I know you suffered quite a shock yesterday, Miss Ladling, and you’d probably like to be left alone. But additional questions have arisen. I promise I’ll be as gentle as I can, but I must ask you some difficult things.”
“I understand.” And she did. “I have additional questions too. Was a horrible crime committed, or was this an accident?”
“Miss Irons was murdered.”
Well. Everyone deflated.
Pen at the ready, Hightower said, “Tell me how you discovered the body.”
Her statement. Again. Was the would-be interrogator double-checking to try and catch Jane in a lie?
She sighed and told the newcomer exactly what she’d told the others.
For over an hour, Hightower peppered Jane with questions. Everything from her movements over the past week to her thoughts of Ana in high school. Jane offered the truth. It set you free every single time; maybe not at first, but definitely later. Lies only ever led to more trouble. But then Hightower asked her next question...
“How long has jimsonweed grown on your property?”
“Oh. You mean the thorn apple?” She frowned. “What has that to do with anything?” Had Conrad mentioned it to his coworkers? But why would he do so?
