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“They used to be a hot item in this town.”
“When?”
“About eight years ago. They were having a not-so-secret affair. It broke up Sandford’s first marriage and it’s probably part of the reason the Winter Squash King ran off with his girlfriend.”
Jason said slowly, “That’s the second husband, right? The one you haven’t been able to get in contact with?”
“Right. I mean, eight years is a long time ago, and the affair has been over for nearly that long. But there is a connection. You were right.”
“Are you out with Martinez?”
“Yep. How do you think I learned all this?”
Where would law enforcement be without local gossip?
“Okay. This is helpful.”
“I know it’s helpful,” J.J. said. “I just told you it was helpful.”
Maybe J.J. had had a drink or two himself that evening.
“Right. Well, we’ll figure out our game plan tomorrow.”
“You’re welcome,” J.J. said and hung up.
Jason walked into the house and found what appeared to an old-fashioned hatbox sitting in the middle of the table.
“This is what you wanted,” Doc told him. “I’m not saying your answers are in here, but any answers in here will be yours.” He nodded solemnly.
Jason nodded too, because at the moment it did seem to make a lot of sense.
“I should be going,” he said. “I want to check something out while I’m thinking about it.”
“You have a rendezvous with destiny,” Doc pronounced.
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
“Go east and take the first right onto South 8th Avenue,” Doc advised. “Follow that for about .19 of a mile. The house will be on your right. Light green with dark green trim. Peaked roof. It’s sitting on three lots. The shed is in the back. There’s alley access. That’s going to be your best bet.”
“Got it.”
“You can let yourself out.”
Jason nodded. He retraced his steps down the hallway with the black and white gallery of Doc’s life in pictures, stepped over the Indian chief doorstop he’d suspected Doc might try to brain him with, unlocked the door, then closed it behind him.
A familiar SUV with official police insignia was parked in front of Quilletta’s house.
Every light in the place seemed to be on, and Jason could see right through the ruffly kitchen curtains to where Quilletta was crying at the table while Chief Sandford stood over her, waving his arms and shouting.
Keeping an eye on the two framed in the window, Jason pulled his cell phone out.
“Jesus Christ. You have horrible timing,” J.J. informed him.
“Where are you?”
“The last place I want to hear from you.”
“Oh. Sorry. The thing is, I think I need some backup here. I’m over at Roy’s old house. I got a tip that the paintings are in a shed basement in the back of the property.”
