AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Jane waved her hand, unconcerned. “Feel free. My lawyer would enjoy the deposition.” As soon as she found an attorney to represent her for pennies on the dollar. Plus, it would be slander, not defamation. “You have to tell the truth in those things, you know. Now, where was I? Oh yes, perhaps you killed Deputy Gunn because Tom demanded it.” She used her most bored tone, taking her bad cop character in a new direction. Cold and hardened. A screw-the-book lawman who’d seen everything and cared for no one. “If he threatened to expose your secret to the whole town, I bet you’d do anything he suggested,” Jane continued, slathering blueberry jam over a lemon scone. “Maybe you’re actually Tom’s boss, the Gentleman. Either way, you might as well confess. Conrad Ryan is on the case, and he always gets his man. And woman. I’m living proof of that.”
With a brittle laugh, Tiffany poured herself a glass of tea. Her hands shook. “Guess I won’t be invited back.”
“You’ve got that right,” Ms. Jessica replied, sitting down her cup before refocusing on Jane. “If that were true, and I’m not saying it is, the same could be said of a dozen other women. So why don’t you start with his least favorite ex? Maddie something or other. She phoned and texted him without cease. He called her an obsessed stalker. When he dumped her, she sent him an all caps text telling him he would regret ever being born.”
That…hmm. Tom had said he’d broken up with Madeline because he was threatened by her father. Who had told the truth and who had lied? Neither Ms. Jessica nor Tom were trustworthy individuals. She had lied and cheated on her husband, whom she’d vowed to forever love; he blackmailed women he’d previously lured into his bed.
If Ms. Jessica was right, Madeline Gunn could have framed Tom for the murder of her estranged father to ruin his life as promised. She most likely kept a spare key to her father’s home. Or Ms. Jessica lied, desperate to protect her secret.
“Did you see the calls and texts, or did he merely tell you about them?” Jane asked.
“Not that you were seeing him,” Tiffany added with a wince.
Ms. Jessica gathered her designer purse, settling the strap on her shoulder. “He told. And that’s the last I’ll ever say on the subject. If you ask me anything else, now or later, if you even mention my name, I’ll make you regret it. Good day.” Head high, she marched over to press a hidden button on a picture frame.
Jane called, “Vote Conrad Ryan for sheriff!”
The door discreetly clicked open, ending her first and probably only meeting with the first lady of Aurelian Hills.
“One bridge burned. Torched to ash, just like that.” Tiffany snapped her fingers. She popped a mini tart into her mouth. “That was awful.”
“I mean, was your performance flawless? No. But we got a lead. And sometimes bridges need to be burned.” Dang, was Jane getting good at this or what? She drained her teacup, gathered the treats on her plate, plus a few more, then stood. “We’re on a roll. To Madeline we go!”
Thanks to Madeline living out loud, Jane easily tracked the “afterlife makeover specialist” to her current location. Her place of employment, Aurelian Hills Cemetery. A shudder ran down Jane’s spine.
“The victim’s daughter works at a cemetery?” Tiffany demanded as Jane parked in the large lot. Numerous cars filled the area. Today must be a funeral day.
“She does.” A terrible one, yes, but finally there was someone who spoke Jane’s language.
“I’m tired of dead people,” the widow groaned.
“Did you ever think they might be tired of you, too?”
Tiffany humphed. Together, they headed to the main building.
Suddenly Jane remembered all the reasons she disliked the place. Some might call it modest and unobtrusive. She called it a shoebox covered in bricks. Where was the personality? The character? But the worst part had to be the golf cars. Employees drove them across the grounds. On purpose.
Disgusted, Jane entered the reception center. But…hmm. She paused just past the doorway. Was she being watched? Did Beau still track her? Her gaze darted left, right, up, down and behind, but no one seemed to pay her any mind. Least of all Tiffany, who gaped at an empty, open coffin on display.
Focus. With its neutral walls and muted drapery and fixtures, the interior was just as mundane as the exterior. Functional. Subdued. Without a nod to history or understanding of the solemn nature or duty of a caretaker. Except…
Dancing music wafted from somewhere in the back, blending with sporadic cheers and clapping.
Following the sounds, they found Madeline passing out candy hearts near the front counter. The twenty-five year old wore a skintight black gown paired with ebony gloves and tights that looked like cobwebs. Straight, dark hair framed a pale face.
