AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Kit smiled gently. “And I want you to be right. I want it so much. But I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t check. Thank you, Miss Shearer. I appreciate everything you’ve told me. Do you still have my card in case you remember anything more?”
“I do.”
“Then I’ll let you rest.”
Kit stood, wincing as her muscles complained. And she could feel a headache coming on. She patted her pants pockets, relieved to feel the outline of the small flat pillbox she used for ibuprofen.
“Miss Shearer, might I bother you for a glass of water?”
“Of course. Are you all right, Detective?”
“Just a headache.” She followed Georgia into the kitchen, emptying her pocket into her palm. A Swiss Army knife, half of a dog treat for her poodle Snickerdoodle, the pillbox, and the cat-bird carving Harlan had made for her. For luck, he’d said. She never left the house without it.
“Oh my,” Georgia said, peering at the carving. “That’s a beautiful figurine. What is it? A cat and a bird?”
Kit held it up so that the older woman could see it. “My father made it for me. It’s a good-luck charm.”
“It’s exquisitely done. I don’t know much about art and such, but Benny was a collector. He has some beautiful things.” She opened the cabinet door, frowning when she found no glasses. “I haven’t been in this kitchen for a week. I guess I forgot to unload the dishwasher. I hope I remembered to run it.” She opened the dishwasher, sighing in relief when she found it full, the contents clean. “Here you go, Detective.”
Taking the offered glass, Kit turned for the sink.
Then froze.
On the counter, next to a mixer, sat a set of knives, the block bearing the brand’s logo. Wüsthof. But one of the slots was empty. A big slot.
Georgia’s butcher knife was missing.
Quickly, Kit looked back into the still-open dishwasher, hoping a knife would be in plain view, but there was no large knife.
Georgia followed Kit’s gaze back to the counter, then gasped when she noticed the missing knife, her knees buckling. Kit gripped her arm gently, guiding her to a chair at the dinette.
“Sit, Miss Shearer. Breathe.”
“That knife in Frankie’s chest…” Georgia covered her mouth, her skin so pale that Kit thought she might pass out. “It was mine?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.” But probably yes.
“I didn’t kill him, Detective. I didn’t.”
Kit patted her shoulder. “We’ll figure this out, Miss Shearer. For now, I’m going to call Miss Evans and have her send someone to check on you.”
“I’m not having a heart attack, Detective,” Georgia insisted. She was trying for haughty, but her voice trembled.
“Humor me, ma’am.” Kit called the office for assistance, then snapped a photo of the knife block and sent it to Connor.
Georgia Shearer’s knife block.
Connor’s reply was immediate. WTF?!? She couldn’t have done it.
Agree. Going to call CSU. Learned stuff about Crawford. Will fill u in later.
We’re on our way to the morgue. Will head back to you asap.
Kit sent a text to CSU’s Sergeant Ryland, then sat next to Georgia. The older woman did not look good at all. Kit lightly gripped her wrist, frowning at the rapid pulse. “Miss Shearer, nobody believes you did this. I don’t think you could have even if you’d wanted to.”
The woman was normally full of snark, which made her seem stronger, but in reality, she was elderly and, at the moment, frail. There was no way she had the muscles or the height to have stabbed Frankie Flynn.
The first time anyway. That cut had taken a lot of strength. The second cut, the one made with the butcher knife, could have been done by someone of average strength, especially if fueled by fear and adrenaline.
