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Hmm. So Deputy Gunn could have been a threat to their lucrative, most likely illegal enterprises. “I’ve never heard of this mobster. Is he or she based in Aurelian Hills?”
“Supposedly. We know little else about the Gentleman,” Barrow said, being his usual diplomatic self and telling her nothing.
Perhaps Deputy Gunn got too close to the truth, and this Gentleman person ordered a hit. That would explain the suppressor. Hitmen used those, right?
But again, a mobster? A hitman? In Aurelian Hills? Well, why not? Mr. Bennett and the Gentleman took the top two spots on Jane’s suspect list, respectively, pushing Ms. Katz to number three. With the caveat that she’d move up or down the moment Jane learned more about that soft evidence, of course.
“Why is the neighbor a person of interest?” Conrad asked.
“They were arguing about a tree,” Barrow explained, offering no more details.
A neighborly dispute gone bad? Mr. Garfield joined Ms. Katz on tier three.
With Mr. Bennett and the Gentleman remaining at the top of the list, she took a closer look at those crime scene photos, searching for anything a hired killer might have left behind: gloves, lock-picking tools, a fake mustache.
She blinked in confusion. “What in the world is that?” She pointed to a weird blob near the body.
The sheriff’s nose wrinkled. “Yeah, we found a pile of hair, most strands from a different source. We’re having them analyzed.”
A variety of hair types? Did that mean a group of people had watched as the killer did his—or her—thing?
Conrad leaned back in his seat. “So how can we help?”
Sheriff Moore waved to Barrow, who sighed and said, “Thanks to our previous investigations, I know how uncooperative, secretive and downright misleading many of the citizens of Aurelian Hills can be. No offense,” he added with a wince at Jane. “You are now considered a resident, Conrad, and I’ll get further with you at my side. Considering the magnitude and scope of the case, the boss gave me permission to use you as a special consultant.”
Happiness for Conrad and disappointment for herself rained over Jane. In his speech, Barrow had singled out Conrad on purpose, ensuring there was no misunderstanding about whom he wished to hire. Did she understand the agent’s reasoning? Yes. But also mostly no. In only a few minutes, she’d put the list of four in the perfect order. Bennett, the Gentleman, Katz/Garfield. Who else could say the same?
Conrad gave a firm nod. “I’m in—on one condition. Give me permission to confer with my consultant throughout the case. Her name is Jane Ladling, and she’s very good at solving mysteries.”
Sheriff Moore pinched the bridge of his nose, and Special Agent Barrow mimicked Conrad’s pose, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.
“We figured you’d say that,” the agent admitted. “There may be certain details we don’t want you sharing.” His dark gaze zoomed to Jane. “Sorry,” he muttered before refocusing on Conrad. “But. You’ll be allowed to confer with her about anything else.”
Hey, it was better than their previous arrangement where he told her nothing.
Conrad gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “Any interest in being my consultant, Jane?”
“Honestly? You can’t afford my rates,” she replied—and she meant it. The first down payment involved never mentioning the flyer from heck again. “But yes. Okay. We’ll work out an installment plan.” And she would do what she always did. Solve the case with style.
“I’m in,” he repeated with a nod. “But first, there’s something I need to do.”
CHAPTER THREE
Thou shall practice your best "supportive girlfriend" smile for photo ops, even if your face hurts from grinning.
–Jane Ladling’s Campaign Companion Code
Jane parked in the gravel driveway, sliding her hearse between Fiona’s sporty red convertible and Beau’s old, battered truck with a cab full of luggage. Going somewhere? After their release, the amazing duo had worked together to get her treasured family vehicle to the police station.
She didn’t emerge right away. Feeling as if she’d been overseas for decades, she took a moment to breathe deep and drank in the sight of her childhood home. Jane refused to call the cottage weathered, preferring the word ‘cozy’ instead. Sure, the blue shutters cried out for a fresh coat of paint, but nothing beat the wraparound porch, perfect for knitting or sipping sweet tea any day of the year. Even today, as winter attempted to ward off spring. The crocuses already dazzled with delicate purple and yellow flowers. Just like that, she was invigorated.
When Conrad parked his shiny black SUV, she killed the engine and entered the chill. He’d name the vehicle Jel, which just happened to be her initials. A fact she thrilled over every time she spotted the car. But why had he refused to aid GBH right away? What must he do?
The beautiful former agent strode to her side and together they climbed the porch steps. As they neared the door, he clasped Jane’s hand and spun her around to face him.
