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Her jaw went slack. What the—what?Emma Miller, here in the flesh. But, but…Jane had expected to corner the nurse at the clinic. In town. Why would a top suspect huntherdown?
Trembling, she flipped the lock and twisted the knob to reveal the nurse, who wore scrubs and projected all kinds of upset. She held a leash, with a red and white corgi at the end of it. The infamous Cheddar. The little cutie grinned and wagged his docked tail, as happy as could be.
“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Emma said, seeming relieved and nervous at once. Had she stopped by on her lunch break or something?
“Um…Hi?” Jane didn’t know the woman well. To be honest, they’d only interacted a few times.And each of those times had involved a murder case.
“Hi.” The other woman opened and closed her mouth, as if searching for her next words. She was a pretty, with thickly lashed eyes and honey-colored hair too dark to be blond, but too light to be brown. Red rimmed her eyes, as if she’d been crying.
Rolex prowled onto the porch with panther-like stealth, closing in on Cheddar. The dog leaned down to sniff the feline’s head. Her kitty reared back with a hiss. Fast as a bullet, he darted into the house while Cheddar whined. How adorable. She’d have to pull a clip from the security feed and create a loop of the interaction. Then she could watch it again and again on repeat.
Cheeks paler by the second, the nurse finally settled on, “May I come in?”
A thousand thoughts raced through Jane’s mind. Wasshesoon to be accused of murder? Verbally attacked? Questioned? What, what?
Curiosity was getting the better of her. Too many mysteries in the past two days. Why not solve this one? But. If she welcomed a murder suspect inside the cottage, Conrad would protest. But. He himself hadn’t declared a suspect yet. So. Technically, Emma wasn’t really a suspect to anyone but Jane. When she factored in the amount of information that could be gleaned from a single conversation, well, turning the woman away seemed like the far more foolish option.
“Please,” she said, using her sweetest tone. She pivoted and waved an arm. “Do come in.”
Emma and Cheddar entered the cottage, the dog’s nails clacking on the hardwood floor. Both mother and pet examined the small living room. Jane did the same, trying to see everything as they must. Hmm. Maybe it was time to buy a slipcover for the orange velvet couch. Even with the beautiful, handmade throw tossed over the back, Grandma Lily’s sofa had seen better days. No way Jane could let it go.
Years ago, her Pops used to stretch across the cushions and work his favorite puzzles. Word scrambles, crosswords, you name it. And Grandma Lily had perched right there on the center cushion and asked if young Jane would like to stay at the Garden rather than live with her mom. That couch had even supported her as she’d read her first Regency romance novel, featuring Victorian maidens and dashing dukes.
“You have a lovely home,” the nurse muttered, interrupting Jane’s parade of memories.
“Thank you.” Scratch out accused of murder and verbally attacked. “Um. Have a seat while I make coffee.” She didn’t wait for a response, but hightailed it into the kitchen.
As she shuffled about, filling the pot and spooning pumpkin spice coffee grounds into the appropriate location—because, yes, she was one ofthosepeople—she planned the upcoming interrogation.
Okay. So. She should probably be direct. To the point. Blunt, even. Fiona and Beau counted on her. Conrad, too, though he most likely didn’t know it and absolutely wouldn’t admit it. Honestly, the poor thing didn’t have a creative bone in his scrumptious body. No, he was all logic and facts.
As morning’s most amazing scent filled the room, Jane breathed deep. She poured two mugs, added a healthy dose of cream and sugar because no one in their right mind drank it plain, then returned to the living area.If Emma protested the sweetness, well, she had definitely killed her ex-husband.
The other woman perched on the couch. Despite being bound by the leash, Cheddar trotted around the well-loved coffee table, sniffing every inch. Where was—ah. Rolex lay beneath the table, cool as a cucumber and glaring daggers at the dog, daring him to make a move. Too. Adorable.
Jane handed over a mug and dashed out of toss-a-hot-beverage-in-her-face range just in case. She settled in a chair across from her visitor, who hadn’t calmed much. “So. How may I help you?” she asked. Good. Direct and to the point, as planned.
“I’d like to hire you to find Tony’s killer,” Emma rushed out, as if the words had been poised at the edge of her tongue for far too long.
“Um. Excuse me?” Jane blinked and shook her head. Surely she’d misheard. “Can you repeat that?”
Her guest placed the mug on the coffee table, politely using a coaster despite the many nicks and scratches that decorated the surface. Without tasting the beverage. Why? Who didn’t guzzle coffee by the gallon at every opportunity? “Look, I know we aren’t friends. I also know the spouse—or ex-spouse in my case—is usually suspect number one in a situation like this.” A humorless laugh escaped her. “GBH certainly thinks so. A few hours ago, two agents came by the clinic to ask about my access to opioids. Which I do not have! Before that, a new reporter at the Headliner called and questioned me about my divorce.”
Opioids huh? Good to know the type of drug used. She sipped her own beverage, letting silence grow between them.
The nurse cracked, as hoped, and kept spewing facts. “They made me repeat my statement from last night to double check the details. Do you know what this means? They think I did it!”
“Well. Did you?”
“No! I swear I’m innocent. I didn’t like Tony, but I wouldn’t…I couldn’t.” Tears welled as Emma twisted the end of Cheddar’s leash between her fingers. “Why would I hurt him? Our divorce was finalized. I’d moved on.”
Maybe. But maybe not. Emma wasn’t known for her honesty. During the first investigation, she’d lied about having an affair with the murdered doctor. The very cause of her divorce from Tony. Also the reason she’d gotten into a fistfight with the victim’s widow. A dishonest disposition coupled with such a fiery temper might have led her to seek revenge against her husband for daring to leave her.
“Can you think of anyone else who might have wanted to harm Tony?” Jane asked.
“Are you kidding? Everyone in Aurelian Hills day-dreamed about harming him.” The tears streamed down the nurse’s cheeks. “What if I’m being framed? What if Tony’s killer took notes from Jake Stephenson, the last murderer to invade this town? I mean, Jake framed you and almost got away with his crime. What if I’ve been set up, too?”
Hmm. Another frame job? Seemed mighty convenient. Honestly, if Jane ever snapped and killed one of her enemies, she might pretend to be framed and hire someone to search for the culprit, too. What better way to involve yourself in the hunt to deflect suspicion?
