Candy Apple Dead (8 page)

... and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Before I could pretend to be asleep, Jawarski reached the bottom of the steps, saw me watching, and pivoted toward me. “It’s Ms. Shaw, isn’t it?”

People never call me that in Paradise. It’s Abby. Sometimes Abigail. Never Ms. Shaw. We’re just not that formal here. In fact, the only time anybody had been that formal with me was during my marriage while I was practicing law with Roger. Hearing the cop use it now made me sit up sharply, ready to face the judge and argue my case, I guess. I didn’t like it. Wincing a little, I nodded. “Abby, please.”

“If you prefer.” He took a couple of steps closer and scowled down at me. “You look upset. Is everything all right?”

Considering everything that had happened this morning, it struck me as a stupid question, but I decided not to say so. Instead, I nodded and looked away. “It will be.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw him tugging off his sunglasses, and those ice-blue eyes of his bored straight into me. “If there’s something wrong—”

I blurted a harsh laugh. “Of course there’s something wrong. I just heard that a good friend of mine might be dead, and I’m having a little trouble adjusting to the idea, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“You’re talking about Brandon Mills?”

“Unless there’s been another death in Paradise within the past few hours.” Was he really that dense, or was he just trying to get me talking? I didn’t like either option, but it occurred to me that the man could serve a purpose, so I tried not to let him see my irritation. “Does this mean you’ve identified the body as Brandon’s?”

He shook his head and hung his glasses from the neck of his shirt, apparently settling in for a little while. “We haven’t made a positive identification yet. Do you mind telling me how you heard about this? That information hasn’t been released to the public yet.”

“Paradise is a small town,” I said with a shrug. “Word gets around.”

He made a face and hooked his thumbs into his back pockets. “I’m starting to figure that out. I suppose it’s too much to hope that you’ll tell me where the word came from?”

“Sorry. Do you know yet who set the fire?”

“It’s early, still. We don’t know much of anything.” He came closer and propped one foot on the bench beside me. “Actually, I’m hoping you can help me with that.”

“Me?” I nearly fell off my perch. “How?”

“You and Mr. Mills are friends, isn’t that right?”

“That’s right.”

“And you saw him yesterday?”

“For a few minutes in the afternoon.”

He pulled a notebook and pen from his shirt pocket, and the brief glimpse of humanity he’d revealed faded. “Would you mind telling me what you talked about?”

“Nothing important.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” His face was an expressionless mask, his movements slow and cautious.

I worked up another shrug and scooted over on the bench so he could sit if he wanted. I thought that might help to convince him that I wasn’t trying to hide anything. “All right. What do you want to know?”

He ignored my invitation. “What time did you see Brandon yesterday?”

“He stopped by around two in the afternoon and left about an hour later.”

“An hour? At a candy store. He must have quite a sweet tooth.”

Was that sarcasm I heard in his voice? I couldn’t be sure. I decided to ignore it and just be honest. “He didn’t buy anything,” I said. “Brandon’s a friend. He had a cup of coffee and then tasted some candy for me.”

“So it was a social visit.”

“Yes. I told you, we’re friends.”

“So you did.” He made a note and asked, “Do you know where he was going when he left?”

“He didn’t say. I assumed he was going back to work.”

“Have you heard from him since that time?”

I shook my head. “Not a word. From what I hear, nobody has. Do all these questions mean that he’s
not
the person you found inside the store?”

Jawarski shook his head. “It doesn’t mean anything, Ms. Shaw. I’m just trying to cover my bases. What did the two of you talk about while he was here?”

“We talked about a lot of things.”

“Name one.”

“The Downtown Alliance meeting. Brandon was looking forward to that so he could win votes for the Arts Festival proposal.”

“But he didn’t show up at the meeting?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“And did that surprise you?”

“Very much. The Arts Festival is very important to him. He’d been looking forward to getting things settled.”

Jawarski dragged another cold blue glance across my face. “Did you notice anything strange in his behavior? Did he seem worried while he was here? Or maybe agitated?”

“If you’re wondering whether he set the fire, he didn’t. He’s not the type to do something that destructive. Besides, he loved that building, and he knows every minute of its history.”

Jawarski leveled me with a glance. “Well, that’s a compelling argument, Ms. Shaw, but do you have any actual proof to go along with that?”

He laid on sarcasm as thick as the chocolate on Aunt Grace’s toffee squares. I ignored it and flashed a tight smile. “Look, I know that’s not enough to prove Brandon innocent, but if you’re really interested in his state of mind, you should know a little more than just how he felt yesterday.”

“And you can tell me that?”

“I can tell you some things that might help.”

“You intend to help me build my case?”

He was starting to irritate me, but I tried to maintain my cool and lifted one shoulder. “No, but I’m familiar with how the law works. I was an attorney for ten years before I came here.”

“Is that right?” One eyebrow arched to match the mountain peak behind him. “Criminal law?”

“Corporate.”

“You represent someone involved in this case?”

I was tempted to say yes, but anyone with a brain the size of a Jelly Belly could prove I was lying in about ten seconds. Jawarski might get there even sooner. “No, but—”

“So you have no professional interest in the case.”

“No, but—”

“Then you won’t mind if I treat you like a civilian.”

“Of course not.”

He started to look away, then checked himself. “You left the law to sell candy?”

I wasn’t about to go into the gory details that drove me to take such a drastic step. Jawarski didn’t need to know about my ex-husband’s affair and the career crisis that had brought me here. I gave another shrug. “In a manner of speaking. Let me ask you something, Jawarski . . . do you know Brandon? Have you ever met him?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Then you don’t know what kind of person he is.”

“Afraid not.”

“Well, I do. If necessary, I’d testify in a court of law as a character witness. He
didn’t
set that fire.”

Jawarski studied the toe of his boot for a long moment. “I understand your concern,” he said at last, “but your gut feeling about what Brandon did or didn’t do last night doesn’t give me much to go on, does it? If you had some actual proof, that’d be a different story.”

“I don’t have actual proof, but I did see him yesterday afternoon, and he was in good spirits. He was laughing. Looking forward to last night’s meeting. He even—” I cut myself off, suddenly a little embarrassed to talk about our plans. But maybe the fact that Brandon had made a date with someone would make Jawarski think twice. “We made plans,” I said. “We were going to dinner together after the meeting.”

Surprise darted through Jawarski’s cold blue eyes. “You had a date?”

“I guess you could call it that. Whatever it was, he didn’t show up for that, either. I thought maybe he’d changed his mind. Now I wonder if he was in trouble.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“I just told you. I thought he’d changed his mind.”

“You were angry?”

Was he trying to pin last night’s fire on
me
? I sat up a little straighter. “I wasn’t happy, but I wasn’t angry, either. Brandon and I are friends, that’s all. When he didn’t show up here, I went upstairs.”

“Did anybody see you there?”

“Plenty of people did. I talked with Stella Farmer on my way in. She wasn’t any too pleased with Brandon at the time, either. And I stood next to Rachel Summers and Gavin Trotter most of the night.”

“And then what?”

I hesitated over the next part, but what if someone had seen me? “I went out for a walk,” I admitted. “I ended up walking past Man About Town while I was out. I was getting worried about Brandon, and I thought maybe something had happened to him.”

“You were alone?”

The sun inched higher in the sky and turned Jawarski into a hulking silhouette. Using one hand, I shielded my eyes so I could see him. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“What did you do there?”

“Nothing. I walked past, that’s all. The building was dark, and Brandon’s car wasn’t anywhere around, so I just kept walking.”

His face gave nothing away, so I couldn’t tell whether he believed me or not. “Did you see anyone else in the area?”

I hesitated for no longer than a heartbeat. “Not a soul.” Maybe I
should
have mentioned seeing Wyatt’s truck, but I knew that my brother had nothing to do with the fire, and I saw no reason to raise questions in Jawarski’s mind.

That eyebrow winged upward again. “Nobody?”

Did he know something already? My palms grew clammy, but I stuck to my story. “I saw a few people walking home from the meeting, but I didn’t see anybody around Man About Town.”

“Where did you go from there?”

“Home.”

“And where is that?”

I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “I live here. There’s an apartment above the shop.”

“You live alone?”

“At the moment.”

“So no one can vouch for you?”

“No, but I don’t see why anyone would need to.”

Jawarski scribbled another note before he looked at me. “We have a dead body on our hands, Ms. Shaw. I’m trying to determine the extent of Brandon Mills’ involvement in the fire. By your own admission, you’re well acquainted with Mr. Mills, and you had reason to be upset with him yesterday.”

“Not
that
upset.”

“I find it a little difficult to believe that he stood you up, but you didn’t care.”

“Well of course I cared, but I’m not crazy!” I folded my arms, realized I’d assumed a defensive posture, and dropped them to my sides. “I was a little hurt at first, but that’s all. When he wasn’t at the meeting, I got worried and walked past the store to see if he was there. He wasn’t. I came home. End of story. I didn’t set the fire and kill somebody in the process just to get back at him over a missed plate of pasta.”

One corner of Jawarski’s mouth curved, but he kept his opinion to himself. “Is there anyone else you can think of who might have wanted to hurt Mr. Mills?”

I’m not even going to pretend I wasn’t relieved that we were moving on. I thought about all the whispers I’d heard in the past few hours, but that’s all they were. I still didn’t know anything. “I don’t know,” I said. “I thought everyone liked him.”

“And you don’t have any reason to believe he might have set the fire himself?”

“No.”

Jawarski stared me down. I stared back. After a few minutes, he stuffed the notebook and pen into his pocket and shoved a business card at me. “If you remember anything else about last night or anything Brandon said in recent days that might shed some light on this case, I want you to call me.”

I took the card without looking at it. “Sure.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Sure. Why not?” But I think we both knew I was lying.

I wasn’t sure what was going on inside Jawarski’s head, but I didn’t trust him. He hadn’t come right out and accused me of anything, but he didn’t trust me, either. If I was smart—and I like to think I am—I’d fly beneath his radar for a few days. The less attention I called to myself, the better off I’d be. But I’m a Shaw and, much as I hate to admit it, we just aren’t known for staying on the sidelines—even when that’s exactly what we should do.

My concentration level was at an all-time low for
the rest of the day. I tried not to let Jawarski’s questions bother me, but that was easier said than done. Did he seriously suspect me of setting the fire, or was he just digging to see what he came up with?

When six o’clock finally rolled around, I locked up the store, fired up my Jetta, and drove across town to Lorena’s, a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that’s one of my favorite places on earth. When we were kids, Mama and Daddy brought Wyatt and me here at least once a month. Now that I’m back in Paradise, it’s where I go when I want comfort food and space to think.

The gravel parking lot was packed, so I wedged the Jetta between two dirty pickup trucks and hurried through the evening chill toward the low-slung cinder-block building. Inside, the
Ranchera
blaring from the jukebox and the familiar spicy scents coming from the kitchen had exactly the effect I’d hoped they would. I could feel the tension slipping from my shoulders, and I knew everything would be all right—at least for the next hour.