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Jane noted the victim’s features. Thick dark hair streaked with gray. The beginnings of an unkempt beard. Thin and wiry frame, like a caged animal. His identity clicked. This was none other than Tony Miller. Her onetime lawyer and two-time murder suspect.
Tony lay on his side, one cheek resting upon a small puddle of blood. A smear of crimson wet the other cheek. His open eyes stared at nothing. Patches of his skin possessed a purplish, grayish tint. His dark, three-piece suit was wrinkled, but not torn. A couple feet away rested a fallen fedora hat.
“What happened?” she asked with a slight tremor.
Conrad kissed her temple. “I’ll let the others explain. I’ve got to make a call.”
“Yes, of course.” Justice for Tony came first. She understood. After giving the agent a reassuring squeeze, she stepped aside.
Conrad told the sheriff, “Considering I’m on the scene and GBH has handled the last two murders in Aurelian Hills, I’m taking the lead on this. Keep Jane, Fiona, and Beau with you. Do you have deputies who can block the guests from this area and corral everyone in the tent? No one leaves without permission.”
“I’ve called for reinforcements, and they should arrive any minute,” Sheriff Moore said. “Until then, we can send Beau’s team to do the blocking and corralling.”
Conrad nodded, then made his call.
A man assured of his authority, the sheriff motioned to Beau. “You heard him, son. Over here with me.” To Isaac, Holden and Trick, he barked orders, sending the threesome flying in opposite directions. Through it all, he maintained his hold on Fiona.
Jane walked over, kissed her friend’s cheek, then hugged Beau. “I was so afraid it was you.”
He pulled back and gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. “I’m pretty tough to kill.”
Conrad spoke into his phone, “No ma’am, I do not enjoy disturbing you on your night off. But there’s been another death at Garden of Memories in Aurelian Hills. Probable homicide.” A pause. He scowled, his gaze cutting to Jane for a moment. “Hard to say until we learn time of death.” Pause. “No ma’am, half the town surrounded her.” Pause. “Yes ma’am. Give the case to Hightower if you want. I understand.”
Great. Jane was a suspect right off the bat. But okay. No big deal. She just needed to figure out what the heck happened. Conrad had said probable homicide. What made him discount, say, an accidental drug overdose? Hadn’t Fiona mentioned a needle? Tony could’ve fallen and hit his head on a rock.
Determined to collect photographic evidence to study later, Jane traded her flashlight for Beau’s phone. And the dear man let her. “Keep the light as close to the body as you can.”
The second her friend complied, she snapped as many crime scene photos as possible, as stealthily as possible.No need to trouble Conrad by asking for permission...and doing it anyway after he told her no.
“The killer made doubly sure Tony died,” Beau explained quietly. “He—or she—hit him in the head with a bag of our gold at least three times. His body also shows signs of a drug overdose. Fiona plucked a syringe out of his neck when she found him. She dropped it in the grass, near the hat.”
Icy cold crept down Jane’s spine. “She’s a suspect, isn’t she?”
“For sure. But so am I. The gold is the one I misplaced earlier.” He pointed to a spot close to Tony’s feet, where a small brown bag Jane had sewn only days ago now featured brand new bloodstains.
She took a handful of additional photos and returned the phone to Beau. “Text me those images right away. And don’t worry. Team Truth will figure this out.” Fiona and Beau weren’t guilty. But someone was.
Conrad ended his call, heaved a weary sigh, then joined the group. Drawn like a magnet to metal, Jane eased into him. He welcomed her nearness, slinging an arm around her waist once again.
“My men are here,” Sheriff Moore announced, ending a call of his own. “Holden is helping them usher the participants into the tent. Soon as that’s done, they’ll take statements.”
“I’ll need a list of guests,” Conrad told Jane before casting a grim look at Fiona. “And a detailed account of your whereabouts once you left the welcome tent.”
Uh oh. DidConradthink the darling grandmother was capable of murder? Because that would be an immediate relationship ender.
Fiona closed her fingers in the sheriff’s shirt, clinging to him. “I’m happy to explain my whereabouts…after I speak with my lawyer. Which I’ll do right away. Just as soon as I hire him.” She looked to the sheriff, who nodded encouragingly. Had he told her what to say? “There’s one here at the party. I’ll find him in the crowd.”
Ugh. How had things dovetailed so quickly?
“As for you.” The special agent gave Jane a little squeeze. “Sheriff Moore will escort you, Fiona and Beau to the tent. Since you’re going to take more photos with or without my permission, be sure to get me candid shots of the guests, without being as obvious as you were with Mr. Miller.”
Did the special agent miss nothing?
Jane saluted him. “Don’t worry, everyone,” she said, only then realizing she, too, clutched a man’s shirt. “Everything’s gonna be all right. I’m on the case.”
* * *
The night seemedto last both an eternity and a blip. GBH agents arrived by the droves, tromping through Jane’s immaculate cemetery for the third time in four months, treating the shrubbery as if it had committed the murder. Did no one mind their manners anymore?
