Alibis and Amethysts (18 page)

Chapter 25

“I have no idea how Frosty’s fur could have gotten on Peggy,” Sierra said after licking
off the whipped cream moustache she’d gotten from the hot cocoa Jaye had brought her.
“The woman was never even in my house. And you saw how Frosty refused to go anywhere
near her body.” She and Jaye were sitting on stools in the back corner of the kitchen
while Ruth manned, or more aptly grandmothered, the counter. She was great for business,
coaxing customers to buy far more than they’d intended. Who could resist a grandma
pushing baked goods?

“Whoever’s trying to frame you for the murder must have planted the fur too,” Jaye
said, “for extra insurance the cops would concentrate on you.”

“Terrific. How do we refute it?”

“Actually, we’re in luck. There’s a DNA test that can identify a dog’s breed.”

Sierra brightened. “So if we can test some of the fur they have as evidence, we should
be able to prove it didn’t come from Frosty.”

“That’s what I’m hoping. I researched it online last night when I couldn’t sleep.
They can even test fur that’s been shed.” Too bad she hadn’t known about that when
she was trying to get a sample of Raffles’s DNA. “
And
the results have been admitted in court.”

Sierra’s sigh of relief was so deep it was almost a groan. She leaned over and planted
a kiss on Jaye’s cheek. “Listen,” she said, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about
something.”

“Shoot.”

“What’s with you and Daniel?”

Jaye was completely lost. “What are you talking about?”

“Like the other day at dinner—Daniel and I were both seated in the booth when you
got there, and it was pretty obvious Daniel wanted you to sit next to him. But instead
you slid in with me.”

“You’re imagining things,” Jaye replied. This wouldn’t be the first time her friend
tried to manufacture a relationship for her.

“I didn’t imagine him moving over to make room for you when you walked in.”

“Not every little action means a guy is interested in being more than friends,” Jaye
said. “I wish you’d stop playing matchmaker.”

“I will when you take off the blinders. Don’t you like him?”

“Sierra, enough,” Jaye said bluntly. “If he’s interested in me that way, I’m sure
he’ll let me know.”

“Maybe he would if you were a little more encouraging.”

“Sierra,” Ruth called from the front of the bakery, “I need reinforcements!”

“She sounds desperate,” Jaye said, rising quickly. “I’ve got to go anyway.”

“Coward,” Sierra said, pulling off her apron that bore a palette of stains from the
morning’s baking.

“Meet me at police headquarters at noon,” Jaye said, “to talk our favorite detectives
out of some fur.” Then she let herself out the back door.

***

According to the receptionist, Detective Anastos was unavailable, but Detective Brock
would be with them shortly. Brock apparently had other plans, because he kept the
women waiting in the tiny reception area for close to an hour. Jaye’s irritation was
growing by the minute. She was convinced it was nothing but a power play. Sierra had
to remind her that regardless of whether it was or not, they needed Brock’s goodwill
if they hoped to be given a sample of the dog fur. Not to mention that it’s never
a good idea to antagonize a cop who already suspects you of murder.

When Brock finally appeared, he was wearing tan chinos with a blue shirt open at the
collar and a striped blue and beige tie hanging askew from its loosened knot. If he
was aiming to give them the impression they weren’t worth tidying up for, he’d hit
the mark. He made no excuses for their long wait. After a bare-bones hello, he escorted
them back to a small area that looked like a break room but could have easily functioned
as an interrogation room as well. The only furnishings were a table and a few straight-back,
faux leather chairs located roughly in the center of the space. There was a sink on
one side of the room and a coffeemaker with an empty carafe beside it on the counter.
A refrigerator and microwave were the only other amenities. The walls were white,
the bottom third scuffed and scarred where they’d likely done battle with a commercial
vacuum cleaner.

After they’d seated themselves, Brock pushed the door shut and took up a position
against a wall from which he could look down on them. The guy sure liked to play every
angle.

“So, ladies, what brings you down here?” he inquired. “Wait, I know. You can’t live
with your guilt another day, so you’ve come in to confess and make my life easier.
Well, that takes a load off my mind.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Jaye said.

“Then you must be here because you miss me.”

Jaye clamped her mouth shut before she could say what was dancing on her tongue. “We
understand the medical examiner found dog fur on Peggy,” Sierra interjected, rising
above Brock’s sarcasm.

“And?” he asked, crossing his arms and assuming a look of boredom.

“And you intend to use it as evidence that she was in my house the day she was murdered.”

“Sounds like a good idea, don’t you think?”

Jaye started counting to ten.

“No, because it’s not even remotely possible,” Sierra replied. “I know for a fact
that she’s never been inside my home. Not that day or any other during the time I’ve
owned it.”

“I think you’ll find evidence trumps a suspect’s word pretty much every time.”

“I won’t argue that, but there’s a DNA test that can tell us for sure if that fur
came from my dog. We’d even be willing to pay for the test ourselves. All we need
is a small sample of the fur.”

“Is that all you need?” Brock said with an arrogant smirk. “I don’t know how they
handled things where you came from, but around here the suspects don’t direct the
police investigations. And in case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have a suggestion
box.” He chuckled, clearly pleased with his wit.

Jaye couldn’t take it. “Instead of standing there mocking us, you should be wondering
why your medical examiner didn’t have the fur tested to begin with.”

Sierra shot her a warning look, but Jaye had run her own caution lights and had no
intentions of stopping until she got where she was going.

“If the ME thought it was necessary, he would have done the test,” Brock said. “That’s
good enough for me.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be,” Jaye shot back, “because you’re going to wind up looking
like a fool when the truth comes out.”

Brock came off the wall like a fighter off the ropes, looking for blood. “You trying
to threaten me?” he demanded, looming over her.

“No,” Jaye said, “I’m trying to help you save face. Our next stop is the city attorney’s
office. I’m sure he’ll be interested in what we have to say, and I bet he asks the
ME to run the test.”

“Yeah, well, you go ahead and talk to Doyle. We’re done here.” He covered the distance
to the door in a couple of long strides, yanked the door open and stalked off, leaving
them to find their own way out of the building.

***

Neal Doyle, the city attorney for Sedona, proved to be a well-groomed, reasonable
man of about fifty. Although his face had probably never turned a woman’s head, the
graying at his temples lent him a certain distinguished appeal. He offered Jaye and
Sierra seats in front of his tidy desk, and he sat down behind it. No grandstanding.
When he inquired about the nature of their visit, Sierra, no doubt still worried that
her friend might be harboring some residual anger after their conversation with Brock,
jumped right in before Jaye could open her mouth.

Doyle listened without interrupting as Sierra explained the issue. “I must tell you,”
he said when she’d finished speaking, “that I’ve never before been approached by suspects
in an ongoing murder investigation, which is not to say that you’ve done anything
wrong by coming to me. There’s a first time for everything, and I like to keep an
open mind. Of course,” he added, “I do have my detractors who’ve said straight to
my face that having too open a mind only leads to losing brain cells.”

Jaye had a good idea who one of those people might be. “You should tell them that
having a closed mind starves the brain of oxygen,” she said.

Doyle smiled. “Thanks. I might just borrow that line. Now,” he resumed in a back-to-business
tone, “my first question might sound condescending, but I don’t mean it to be. Are
you
sure
Dr. Gatwick never ran such a test? Because it’s been my experience that he’s a very
thorough man.”

Then you haven’t dealt with him recently, Jaye felt like saying, but in deference
to Sierra she kept her mouth shut.

“If he did, the detectives on the case don’t seem to be aware of it,” Sierra responded.

“Sometimes data can be lost or misplaced and fail to make it into the final report,”
Doyle said, jotting notes on a legal pad as he spoke. “So the first thing I need to
do is to check out that possibility. Then I intend to pursue this until I’m satisfied
with the answer,” he said, looking up at them. “And let me assure you in advance that
should this ever come to trial, I would never use evidence that hasn’t been properly
vetted.” Then he thanked them for bringing the matter to his attention and promised
to let them know as soon as he had any news.

“Well, that went better than I’d expected, especially after that awful meeting with
Brock,” Sierra said as they walked back to their cars. “I like Doyle. I think we can
trust him to keep his word.” When Jaye remained silent, Sierra produced a nearly believable
smile and added, “One thing’s for sure—if we wind up on trial for Peggy’s murder,
we’re going to have to buy you a muzzle.”

Jaye wasn’t ready to be jollied into a better mood. “I wouldn’t worry about that.
I think there’s actually a better chance that I’ll be hauled into court for the murder
of Theo Brock.”

Chapter 26

Luisa Finnegan had a sweet tooth. She was helpless to resist the siren song of Cravings!
On most mornings, before she started cooking for the lunch rush at her restaurant,
she’d stop into the local Starbucks and then hit Sierra’s bakery. With coffee in one
hand and cake in the other, she’d cross the street to Finnegan’s and plant herself
on one of the outdoor benches to eat and watch the world go by.

On the day Jaye chose to come into town to talk to her, Sierra made chocolate chip
scones and strawberry tarts, two of Luisa’s favorite treats. Unable, and perhaps unwilling,
to choose, she bought one of each, guaranteeing a lengthier morning repast. Even so,
the timing was going to be tricky, since Luisa didn’t dawdle over her food. She’d
just settled herself and was taking the lid off her coffee when Jaye arrived. So far,
so good. Jaye parked in front of the bakery and hurried inside, where Sierra had one
of her newly perfected jelly donuts bagged and ready to go. When Jaye came out of
the shop, she feigned surprise at seeing Luisa on the other side of the street. She
waved and crossed over to her. She’d dined at Finnegan’s often enough to consider
the woman at least a good acquaintance. “What a great way to enjoy breakfast,” she
said to her. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“No, no, come sit,” Luisa said, sipping her coffee. “I love the town before it gets
busy.”

Jaye took a deep breath and exhaled. “You’re right. It’s lovely to relax like this
before all the craziness starts.” She withdrew the donut and set the bag on her lap
to catch any wayward jelly. Sierra was almost too generous with it. Now all she had
to do was direct the conversation to Quinn’s gambling to see if it offered any clues
to Peggy’s death. It wasn’t exactly a normal topic for two people who didn’t know
much more about each other than their names and occupations. She’d struggled for hours
to come up with a good lead-in that wasn’t likely to set off any alarms for Luisa,
but all she had was a grand total of one. So number one it was.

“Sweets—my one vice,” she said in a confidential whisper. “But it’s a dangerous one.
Sometimes I think I’d be better off with a weakness for booze or gambling. At least
they don’t pack on the pounds.”

“Don’t look for greener grass,” Luisa told her with an air of wisdom. “Sweets hurt
just the eater. It’s not at all the same.” She took another bite of her scone. “I’ve
tried to bake these, but they never come out quite like Sierra’s.”

Great. Now Jaye had to find a way back to the gambling without appearing to pry. She’d
have to make it about someone other than Quinn. “My uncle was a gambler,” she said,
hoping she didn’t sound obsessed with the topic.

“Every family has its problems. Do you think Sierra has a secret ingredient?”

Luisa sure wasn’t making this easy. If Jaye gave her a real answer, the conversation
would move too far down that track to ever guide it back gracefully. She took a bite
of her donut to occupy her mouth and shrugged to indicate she didn’t know and couldn’t
reply with a mouthful.

“My aunt hung in there for as long as she could,” Jaye said, swallowing and resuming
her story before Luisa could think up another question, “but when he took their son’s
college fund and blew it in Vegas, she threw him out and divorced him.”

Luisa stopped with the last bit of scone halfway to her mouth. “That takes courage.
A lot of people don’t know when to get out, especially if love is still involved.
How is she doing now?”

The question caught Jaye by surprise. She didn’t actually have an aunt and uncle,
although it would have been nice. They might have taken her in when her parents died
and given her a very different childhood than the one she’d endured. “She’s fine,”
Jaye said. “She got out in time to build a better life for herself and my cousin.”
She couldn’t tell from Luisa’s expression whether the story had hit home.

“That’s good,” Luisa said, popping the last of the scone into her mouth. “I like happy
endings.”

***

“If there was another way to keep her on topic, I couldn’t come up with it,” Jaye
said, watching Sierra slide a batch of banana muffins into the oven. “At first I thought
I hit pay dirt and she was identifying with my fictitious aunt, but it fizzled and
never went anywhere.”

Sierra wiped her hands on her apron. “You can only do what you can do,” she said philosophically.
“Either Luisa has no problem with Quinn’s gambling or she’s too circumspect to air
it in front of every Dick and Jaye. Should I save you a
banana muffin?”

***

Raffles had come home from her post-dinner outing with what looked and smelled like
honey stuck in the fur around her mouth, on her pudgy cheeks and on both her front
legs, or what Jaye thought of as her front legs. Of course, they might have been considered
more armlike, but without an expert to ask, it was destined to remain a moot point.
The honey had probably also been on her hands, but since the fur there was much finer,
she’d already managed to lick them clean. Jaye first noticed the sticky mess because
the not-a-cat wouldn’t stop licking around her lips. No matter how hard she tried,
her little tongue didn’t come close to reaching the honey on her cheeks. Jaye didn’t
know if Raffles would let her help with the problem, but she had to give it a whirl.
Otherwise the honey was going to wind up on the bed they shared as well as on her
other furniture.

She wet a washcloth, added a drop of shampoo to it and approached Raffles with the
most casual demeanor she could rustle up. The not-a-cat was lying on the hardwood
floor near one of the love seats. She’d given up trying to clean her face for the
moment and was concentrating on her right front leg. As Jaye closed in on her, she
looked up sharply, no doubt still remembering the cotton swab incident. Jaye had her
own disturbing memory of that event and how swiftly those not-a-cat teeth had amputated
the swab. Another second and it might have been her finger.

“Believe me,” she said softly as she advanced, “this isn’t exactly a picnic for me
either. In fact, given what we know about each other, I’m pretty sure I have more
to worry about right now.” Raffles didn’t seem convinced by her gentle tone, but neither
did she flee, which Jaye took to be a good sign. Once she was close enough, she eased
herself down on the floor and held out the washcloth for Raffles to inspect, something
she should have done with the swab. Hindsight provided a fine education. The not-a-cat
sniffed at the cloth, wrinkled her nose and chuffed like a dog to show her disappointment
that it didn’t hold anything more interesting or, better yet, edible.

“After you’re clean, you can have a treat,” Jaye told her. She had no idea how much
Raffles understood, but given her aptitude for learning, it was likely she knew dozens
of words by now. There was certainly no mistaking the way her pointed little ears
stood up even straighter when she heard the word “treat.”

For her audience of one, Jaye provided a live-action demonstration to prepare her
for what was coming. She ran the washcloth up and down her own forearm, smiling as
lavishly as a model showing off a new car at an automotive show. See? Nothing to fear.
Then she scooted a little closer and gently dabbed at the fur on the not-a-cat’s closer
leg. Raffles kept careful watch of the enterprise, sniffing the area every few seconds.
When both front legs were clean, Jaye moved the cloth slowly up to Raffles’s face.
There was a tense moment when the animal’s ears flattened against her head and she
hissed through her teeth in a very catlike way, but Jaye talked her down by backtracking
and rubbing the cloth on her own cheek first. When she tried again, Raffles allowed
her to proceed. Except for the not-a-cat pulling back from the pressure of the cloth
twice, and Jaye flinching like a ninny at her sudden movements, things went far better
than she’d anticipated. Raffles seemed to agree. When Jaye set the cloth on the floor
to show her the minibath was over, the not-a-cat leaned toward her and licked her
hand. At first Jaye assumed she’d gotten a bit of the honey on herself during the
cleaning process and Raffles was simply enjoying this last taste. But when Jaye looked
up there was no mistaking it—the not-a-cat was smiling at her. Her thin, dark lips
were drawn back from her teeth and gums, giving her a strangely comical expression.
It was so unexpected that Jaye got a full-blown case of the giggles and had a hard
time trying to shut them down. She hoped Raffles wasn’t offended at being the source
of her laughter. Dogs and cats didn’t seem to mind, but she was hardly an expert on
the subject, since she’d never had either as a pet. In any case, until she had a more
thorough understanding of her little boarder, she intended to stick with the motto
“Better safe than bloody.”

***

“If your sister is going through a rough patch, I’d suggest amethyst,” Jaye said to
the forty-something woman who’d introduced herself as Genna.

“She’s a mess, to put it bluntly,” Genna said with a sigh. “At this point, I’ll try
anything.”

From what Jaye had learned about crystals, they worked better when a person was open-minded
about their potential. If Genna’s sister had the same last-ditch mentality, all the
amethyst in the shop wasn’t likely to do her any good. But Jaye didn’t know her sister,
and she wasn’t comfortable inquiring about her belief system.

“Why do you think amethyst would be best?” Genna asked.

“It’s considered one of the power stones,” she said. “As far back as antiquity it’s
been used for healing the body, mind and soul.”

“I mean how does it work?”

“Well, it’s supposed to provide the wearer with a connection to the universal vibration.”

Genna’s face was caught between a frown and a question, her brow trying to lower and
arch at the same time. “The what?”

“I guess you could say that amethyst works like a tuning fork to help a person get
back in sync with the universe.”

“Oh,” Genna said, perking up, “I get it. You mean it would kind of put her back in
tune with life?”

“You could say that. But you need to understand that there’s no guarantee about how
well it will work with any given individual. It does seem to help if a person is open-minded
about its potential,” she added for good measure.

“So you know people who’ve actually been helped by amethyst?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Jaye said. “I’ve had customers come back to thank me
for suggesting it.”

“Does it matter what type of jewelry it’s in?”

“For many of the crystals that isn’t an issue, but amethyst works best when worn around
the neck.”

“Okay,” Genna said gamely, “then please point me to the necklaces.”

“Jaye.” She turned to her left at the unexpected sound of Daniel’s voice and saw him
making his way through the throng of customers who’d descended on the shop. He’d never
dropped in during business hours before, and he was clearly agitated about something.
Searching his face as he came up to her, she couldn’t tell if it was good news or
bad.

“Can I borrow you for a few minutes?” he asked with an unsettling urgency. Jaye turned
back to her customer. “The amethyst necklaces are in the last display case on the
right. I apologize, but I need to attend to this. If you have other questions, Bryn
will be happy to help you. She’s the cute redhead helping the man at the register.”

Genna thanked her, and as soon as she headed off to look at the necklaces, Daniel
grabbed Jaye by the hand and pulled her toward the stairs.

“Wait,” Jaye protested, digging in her heels. “I have a store full of customers, and
as good as Bryn is, she’s only one person. Why can’t you tell me what this is about
right here?”

“Trust me,” he said, as serious as she’d ever seen him, “you don’t want anyone in
the shop to overhear me.”