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Billy Dee nodded. “Maybe I will have that drink now,” he said and made his way to the makeshift bar, his bald head gleaming under the lights. He’d been a runningback in high school before an injury had sidelined him, an injury that had shattered his ankle and put him in the hospital for a week, all compliments of Luke’s tackle in practice. The injury had knocked Billy Dee off the team for the season and, he’d complained later, cost him an athletic scholarship to the University of Colorado. Now he was a teacher at the high school and a football coach for the ever low-flying Eagles.
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nbsp; Despite Lila trying to put everyone on the committee back on track, the conversation about Violet continued as Bon Jovi played in the background.
There were more questions than answers as they tossed around theories and anecdotes, remembering things about Violet, remarking about when they’d seen her last, wondering how she’d died and why. Had her attacker known her? Was murder the intent? Or was Billy Dee right when he’d suggested the botched burglary? Had she been sexually assaulted? Could her husband be behind it?
“It’s all such a shame,” Brit said. “A horrible tragedy, and I kind of know Leonard. He comes into the shop before work for coffee and a scone or something. We don’t talk much, but I can’t imagine him killing Violet. No.” She shuddered visibly. “I heard he found the body. He was supposed to be on a fishing trip. Came home early.”
“Supposed to be?” Nate asked. “You mean he wasn’t?”
“Oh, no, no, no. I don’t know anything about it. Just what people say when they come in.” She let out a breath. “And that’s all just coffee shop talk.”
“Gossip,” Mercedes said from the couch as Lucas walked into the room.
He glanced at his mother, who gave a quick nod, and then he walked to the buffet and began filling a couple of plates.
Reva swirled the ruby wine in her glass. “The police always look at the family first. And I think they were having money problems. When I saw her at the dog groomer’s, Vi was kind of pissed. And she mentioned that Leonard wanted to buy the store from his parents but they were at some kind of impasse. She didn’t seem all that crazy about the idea, but then, who knows?” She shrugged her shoulders. “But I bet Leonard is suspect numero uno.”
Mercedes clicked off her phone and stood, circumventing the coffee table to stand with the rest of the group in front of the fireplace. “Reva’s right. The cops always suspect the husband, or if the husband is killed, then the wife, or maybe a whacked-out kid, whoever’s in line to inherit. Wait ’til they check the will.”
“They didn’t have kids,” Lila said. Then, eyeing Mercedes, she asked, “When was the last time you saw her?”
Mercedes lifted a shoulder. “Last week. I tracked her down at the furniture store.”
Nate lifted his chin. “Tracked her down?”
“I was trying to get an interview with her, for the series. Since she was one of the witnesses at the trial, and she was on the scene when Luke was killed, I thought it would be interesting to see what she had to say now.”
“Let me guess,” Reva said. “She shut you down.”
Mercedes’s stony expression acknowledged nothing. “She didn’t want to talk about it. The damnedest thing, you know,” she said, her gaze moving back to Rachel. “No one wants to be interviewed.”
“I wonder why?” Reva tossed out. “Geez, did you stalk her?”
Mercedes opened her mouth, then closed it. “I just needed a little information. It’s my job.”
“So we’ve heard.” Nate took another drink.
“And just so you know, the next article is coming out next week.” Mercedes was staring straight at Rachel. “The Tuesday edition.”
“Listen, could we please all get back to work?” Lila said. “All this talk about Vi isn’t going to bring her back.”
Billy Dee made his way to the table, and Reva followed.
Mercedes stepped closer to Rachel. “I’ve been trying to reach you. I’ve texted and called and all I’ve gotten is radio silence.”
“Because I don’t want to talk about it.” Rachel was going to add lamely that she’d been busy, but Mercedes didn’t give her time.
“I just want to ask some questions about Luke’s murder. For my series.”
“Yeah, Mercedes, I get it! We all do,” Rachel said, a little louder than she’d anticipated, and Brit’s eyebrows shot up. Lila’s head swiveled in her direction.
“You didn’t call me back.”
“I know that too,” Rachel said, the room seeming to shrink a bit.
“Why?”
