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“Sure! Well, I forgot to give it back after I came by to clean the ceiling fans, but…” Harvey’s smile starts to fade a bit. “Is there a problem with that, Sheriff?”
Rory and I exchange a look. His dark brows are raised as if to ask, “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
It’s rare that I feel like I’m on the same wavelength as anyone. Kate’s about the only person I have that with, and that’s only because she’s the sweetest peach to ever grace this earth. We’ve been friends since childhood and she’s the only person who didn’t care that I only got “weirder” with age. She didn’t even care that I left Horace for years and was bad at keeping in touch. She was here to greet me, to help me with my dad, and when I finally broke down and asked why she was being so nice after I’d been such a bad friend, she merely shrugged and said, “What are friends for?”
She’s too good for this world.
All that aside, I’m feeling that pinch at the back of my brain of something matching up between my brain and Rory’s. Could that really be possible?
Let’s see how far we can take this.
“You really are a saint, Harvey,” I say. “You know the museum would just be rack and ruin without you.”
Harvey mutters a soft, “Oh, that’s not true.”
“You didn’t tell me you had access to the museum, Harvey,” Rory follows up, tucking his thumbs in his belt, giving him the full broad-chested cop persona.
It’s more attractive than it ought to be.
“Sorry, Sherriff?” Harvey asks, batting his watery green eyes.
“When we spoke the other day at the Frederickson house. We talked about you coming across the skeleton? Remember that?” Rory continues to prod.
“Well, yes, of course I remember that, I just don’t know why the key would have come up… ?” Harvey replies, forcing a crooked smile.
Rory takes a step forward. “Well, what I didn’t tell you, Harvey, was that a few of those bones were out of place.”
Harvey leans back. It’s almost imperceptible, but not to me.
“You see, some of them were taken from the museum between the time Dr. Chaplin left on Monday evening and arrived Tuesday morning. No sign of breaking and entering.”
When Rory calls me Dr. Chaplin, it sends shivers down my spine.
“That’s no good,” Harvey says, furrowing his brows.
“I’m happy to have them back, of course,” I say as I clasp my heart. I’m playing the good foil to Rory’s bad cop; feels like it should be the other way around since he’s the charming one, but if it works, it works. “But it is strange how they ended up on the Frederickson property, don’t you think?”
Harvey blinks, then tries to laugh. “Sure it is.”
“Sheriff McEvoy has been trying to help me put the pieces together and… well, it’s odd that you had access to the museum and then found the bones, don’t you think?” I go on in my most innocent, coquettish voice. “Although that would be crazy, right?”
“Yes, crazy,” Harvey agrees.
Rory lets out a laugh. “Yeah, I mean, what would be the motive behind that?”
“No clue.” The handyman shakes his head. His muscles are bracing, not at all the usual even-keeled, friendly man I’ve known my whole life.
“This your car?” Rory asks with suddenness, jerking his thumb toward the Mustang.
“Sure is,” Harvey says with a hearty nod.
“Huh. Nice car for a handyman. No offense, Mr. Collins.”
My eyes zero in on Harvey’s trembling Adam’s apple. I think we’ve cracked him. “None taken, Sheriff.”
“It’s new, right?” Rory goes on.
The moment hangs in the air. I watch Harvey’s expression melt from blissful ignorance to fear.
