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Jane snapped her fingers. “She mentioned her friend just like that?” Had thrown her good buddy under the bus to get the spotlight off herself? Interesting.
“She seemed confident Ms. Johnson will back everything she said.”
Ah-ha! “Proof they’re partners.”
“Or that they didn’t do it. Abigail might risk her life for profit, but risk profit for revenge?”
Oh, man. Oh, yeah. That was an excellent point. “Probably not, but she would absolutely risk profit for revenge if it meant more profit in the long run. Think of the book and movie deals this case will get.” Gah! Movie deals. Jane imagined a gorgeous new actor getting his big break by playing the part of the smoldering Sheriff Conrad Ryan. But who to play Jane? Zooey Deschanel? “See, this is the reason I need to go undercover as a writer. If anyone is going to tell this story, it’s me! Undercover is drama. I am drama and drama sells.”
“But is it really undercover if you plan to write a book anyway?”
How well he knew her. “Shh. Don’t ruin this for me.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “Now, since I’m an official author, I’m picking up on details you’ve so obviously missed. Of course Abigail wants you to speak with Maggie. The two have probably crafted rock solid backstories for their real-life selves.”
“I’ll know more about their relationship after I interview Ms. Johnson.”
Then they’d move on to another suspect. “Did Mason Thorton have an alibi?”
“He did, but I still need to verify it. On a same but different note, I cleared the mayor of doing the deed. Unlike Miss Waynes-Kirkland, he’s on camera at the time of death.”
“Which is?”
He closed his eyes for a moment, bracing. “Right around the time you texted that you both were and were not breaking into the building.”
Oh, wow. If Jane hadn’t experienced so many mishaps on the way to the tearoom, she might have arrived before the murder. She could’ve helped Hannah. Or died alongside her. “Well, I’m not crossing the mayor off my list. He could’ve hired a hitman and hung around to enjoy the aftermath.”
“A hitman isn’t interested in playing a game, only doing a job.”
“A hitman would absolutely be interested in playing a game if he’s an expert at covering his tracks. He’d do whatever proved necessary to ensure all blame pointed at book club members so no one would ever suspect the mayor.”
“I love your brain.” Conrad kissed her temple.
She loved his everything. “Have you learned anything surprising about Hannah herself?”
“Like what? What are you hinting at?”
“I’m not sure.” What had Ashley Katz discovered? “I think I’ll head home, cook dinner and contemplate my story, which will help me solve the case.” And she’d pet Rolex to remind him that Mommy loved him best. “Come to the Garden after work, and we’ll eat there.”
“I’m so glad you’re mine. Now go ponder your best seller.”
They shared a smile, and she sauntered out of his office.
On the drive home with Beau, her friend was unusually quiet. Jane let him gather his thoughts while she drafted a mental to-do list. Cook, think, write. Make an appointment with Golden Gears Auto Shop. The family hearse could use a tune-up. Score a meeting with the mayor.
“Is something wrong?” she asked when the silence became too much.
“Nothing I can’t handle. A few hiccups with my renovation.”
“You mean your Murder House.” Beau had purchased the home of a deputy who’d accidentally shot himself, setting off a complicated investigation into his death. A mystery Jane had solved, thank you.
“I’ve got some competition with the new owner of the Clayton Boarding House, whoever they are.”
“I still can’t believe two people engaged in a bidding war for what’s basically a shack on a hill,” Jane said. “I wonder if the new owner knows how many men took their last breath there in the 1920s.”
Beau gave an exaggerated shudder. “Or that it’s haunted.”
She cocked her head. “Beauregard Thomas Harden, please tell me you don’t believe in ghosts after working in a cemetery.”
His shoulders began to shake. “You used my full name.”
