“You have a lovely home,” the nurse muttered, interrupting Jane’s parade of memories.
“Thank you.” Scratch out accused of murder and verbally attacked. “Um. Have a seat while I make coffee.” She didn’t wait for a response, but hightailed it into the kitchen.
As she shuffled about, filling the pot and spooning pumpkin spice coffee grounds into the appropriate location—because, yes, she was one of those people—she planned the upcoming interrogation.
Okay. So. She should probably be direct. To the point. Blunt, even. Fiona and Beau counted on her. Conrad, too, though he most likely didn’t know it and absolutely wouldn’t admit it. Honestly, the poor thing didn’t have a creative bone in his scrumptious body. No, he was all logic and facts.
As morning’s most amazing scent filled the room, Jane breathed deep. She poured two mugs, added a healthy dose of cream and sugar because no one in their right mind drank it plain, then returned to the living area. If Emma protested the sweetness, well, she had definitely killed her ex-husband.
The other woman perched on the couch. Despite being bound by the leash, Cheddar trotted around the well-loved coffee table, sniffing every inch. Where was—ah. Rolex lay beneath the table, cool as a cucumber and glaring daggers at the dog, daring him to make a move. Too. Adorable.
Jane handed over a mug and dashed out of toss-a-hot-beverage-in-her-face range just in case. She settled in a chair across from her visitor, who hadn’t calmed much. “So. How may I help you?” she asked. Good. Direct and to the point, as planned.
“I’d like to hire you to find Tony’s killer,” Emma rushed out, as if the words had been poised at the edge of her tongue for far too long.
“Um. Excuse me?” Jane blinked and shook her head. Surely she’d misheard. “Can you repeat that?”
Her guest placed the mug on the coffee table, politely using a coaster despite the many nicks and scratches that decorated the surface. Without tasting the beverage. Why? Who didn’t guzzle coffee by the gallon at every opportunity? “Look, I know we aren’t friends. I also know the spouse—or ex-spouse in my case—is usually suspect number one in a situation like this.” A humorless laugh escaped her. “GBH certainly thinks so. A few hours ago, two agents came by the clinic to ask about my access to opioids. Which I do not have! Before that, a new reporter at the Headliner called and questioned me about my divorce.”
Opioids huh? Good to know the type of drug used. She sipped her own beverage, letting silence grow between them.
The nurse cracked, as hoped, and kept spewing facts. “They made me repeat my statement from last night to double check the details. Do you know what this means? They think I did it!”
“Well. Did you?”
“No! I swear I’m innocent. I didn’t like Tony, but I wouldn’t…I couldn’t.” Tears welled as Emma twisted the end of Cheddar’s leash between her fingers. “Why would I hurt him? Our divorce was finalized. I’d moved on.”
Maybe. But maybe not. Emma wasn’t known for her honesty. During the first investigation, she’d lied about having an affair with the murdered doctor. The very cause of her divorce from Tony. Also the reason she’d gotten into a fistfight with the victim’s widow. A dishonest disposition coupled with such a fiery temper might have led her to seek revenge against her husband for daring to leave her.
“Can you think of anyone else who might have wanted to harm Tony?” Jane asked.
“Are you kidding? Everyone in Aurelian Hills day-dreamed about harming him.” The tears streamed down the nurse’s cheeks. “What if I’m being framed? What if Tony’s killer took notes from Jake Stephenson, the last murderer to invade this town? I mean, Jake framed you and almost got away with his crime. What if I’ve been set up, too?”
Hmm. Another frame job? Seemed mighty convenient. Honestly, if Jane ever snapped and killed one of her enemies, she might pretend to be framed and hire someone to search for the culprit, too. What better way to involve yourself in the hunt to deflect suspicion?
On the other hand, she had indeed experienced the horrors of being accused of a crime she hadn’t committed. Emma might be on to something.
On the other, other hand, Jane’s original suspicions remained valid. Turning on the waterworks? A classic move of the guilty.
“I’ll pay you whatever you want.” Emma shifted in her seat. “Name your price.”
Did the nurse have the kind of money needed to properly toss around phrases like “name your price?” Rumors suggested Tony had stiffed her hard in the settlement. Another reason for murder.
“More than my reputation is on the line.” The other woman swiped at her damp cheeks with a trembling hand. “If I’m sent to prison, what will happen to my precious Cheddar?”
Oh man. Talk about a dagger to the heart. Also the most perfect thing to say to a fur mom as passionate as Jane. Too perfect? “Why not hire an experienced private detective?” Although, yes, she had considered opening her own agency for extra cash and adventure. Only one slight problem. She didn’t quite fit the qualifications necessary for the great state of Georgia. Two years of experience with a licensed PI agency or a four-year degree in criminal justice.
“I admit I looked into it,” Emma said, wringing her hands, “but the closest private detective lives in Atlanta. There’s no way I’m paying a city boy—a stranger!—to poke around and bug the good people of Aurelian Hills. Who would even open up to him? Besides, you’ve more than proven your capabilities. You solved two cases already.”
Jane’s chin lifted. Yes, she had. Something GBH hadn’t given her credit for, by the way.
Wait, was Emma attempting to butter her up?
“Please say yes, Jane. You’ve been in my shoes, so you understand. And you’ll be investigating the case, anyway, right? I mean, I know agents spoke with Fiona and Beau at length.” A sharp edge entered her tone. “Rumors are already circulating about their involvement.”
Hold up. Did Emma think Fiona and Beau were guilty? Was this a fact-finding mission about two of the most wonderful people in existence? Well, how dare she!
Jane’s grip on the mug tightened. Anyone who suspected the loving, beloved grandmother of three and the heroic war veteran with a heart of gold lacked common sense, and that was a fact.
Perhaps Emma hoped to shift blame onto someone—anyone—else. A far more likely scenario.
“If you think my friends are guilty,” Jane grated, “why hire me? Aren’t you afraid I’ll help frame you to clear their names?”
“I did consider the possibility,” Emma admitted. “Then I discarded it and decided to trust you. You’re scarily honest and somehow a good judge of character.” She drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Look. I doubt anyone else will take this case as seriously as you. Please,” she repeated. “If not for me, do it for Cheddar.”
Manipulation now? Well played, Miller. “Fine. I’ll do it,” she said and took another sip of her coffee. Clearly, Jane needed to keep a close watch on the nurse. “All I want in return is answers. And expenses.” Just in case she incurred any unavoidable fees. “Perhaps a play date for our babies, too.”