Scraps of Evidence: Quilts of Love Series (7 page)

Logan’s cell vibrated. He pulled it out and checked the display. “Sorry, Tess, I have to take this. It’s about a case back home. Be right back.”

“There’s a quiet place back near the restrooms.”

“Great. Go ahead and eat your dessert. This’ll just take a moment.”

When he returned, Tess was setting her spoon down on her plate with a sigh.

He grinned as he sat down. “That good?”

“I managed to save you some,” she told him. “It’s only because I’m so glad we came here tonight. Otherwise, there’s no way I could be so generous.”

Logan looked at the dish she pushed toward him. Barely a tablespoon of the strawberry sauce sat atop a small dollop of ice cream. But he was enjoying the way she looked so relaxed and happy, and he played along with her supposed generous gesture.

He spooned it up and tasted strawberry heaven—rich berries that were sweet, but with the dash of butter and black pepper it had a unique flavor like nothing he’d tasted before.

“I’m getting this next time we come.” He took a bite of his cake and pushed the plate toward her so that she could taste it.

“We’re coming again?”

He met her look. “I hope so.”

She nodded slowly. “I’d like that.”

The waiter came to ask if they wanted more coffee, and when they declined, he left their bill.

“That was a sweet thing you did.”

Logan looked up from putting his credit card in the leather envelope with the bill. “What? Offer you a bite of my cake?”

“I know you paid the check for that couple.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do.”

Logan pinned the man with a look as he picked up the bill.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t tell her,” he said. “You just said I couldn’t tell the couple.”

“Let me have the bill back,” Logan said easily. “I think I’ll cross off that tip . . . ”

“Yes sir.” The man gulped, but handed it over.

Logan pushed the bill back into the man’s hands. “Just kidding.”

When they walked outside, a soft breeze carried the scent of the ocean nearby and rustled the branches of the bougainvillea tree. Delicate fuchsia-colored petals drifted down to dance on the cobbled street. People walked up and down the street, enjoying their evening. A man strummed a guitar and sang about pirates of old as he sat on the sidewalk, his guitar case open to receive tips.

“I’m falling in love with this city of yours,” Logan told her. “Gordon told me I would.”

“Gordon? He told you you’d like the city? When did he say that?”

“When I came here for the interview. He was right about you, too.”

She stopped and stared at him. “What?”

“He said the department had a crackerjack detective I’d want to work with.”

8

C
rackerjack. He used the term ‘crackerjack’?”

“Yeah. You’ve never heard him describe you that way?”

Tess shook her head. She began walking toward the car again. Logan walked beside her, his hands in his pockets.

“You knew he wrote me?”

“No.”

Logan nodded. “Right after my team solved the Blanco serial killer case. Said he was on the recruitment committee and the department was looking for a new detective. He invited me to come down and talk to the committee about the job, take a look around the city, and see if it was a place I might like to live.”

He glanced at her. “He never told you about this?”

“No. Not that he talks much about upper level stuff to me. And we downplay the fact that he’s married to my aunt when we’re at the station. I don’t need anyone to think I got my job because of nepotism.”

He paused at the car. “It’s a little early to head home, and it’s such a nice night. Want to take a walk?”

“Not in these shoes.”

“Oh. Hadn’t thought about that.”

“Yeah. Men don’t. They just like—” She stopped.

“They just like what?”

She refused to say more. He knew men liked seeing women wear high heels. She didn’t need to tell him so—it would imply she’d worn them for him and she hadn’t. She’d worn them because she liked them, although right about now she wished she’d worn something more comfortable. . . .

“Tell you what. Why don’t we go for a carriage ride? I’ve never been on one.”

It was a beautiful night—the air had that soft quality to it when the temperature and ever-present Florida humidity had dropped as summer began fading. And dinner out with Logan had been so enjoyable. Surely, she could humor him by taking such a ride.

They drove around to the seawall near the Old Fort where the carriages waited for passengers.

A driver welcomed them with a tip of his hat and said he was available to take them for a ride.

Tess was about to climb up the step to the carriage when Logan held out a hand. “Will you let me help you?”

She hesitated and then nodded. Aunt Kathy would say he possessed manners and accepting help wasn’t a sign of weakness. If he were wearing something as impractical as heeled sandals, she’d help him. A giggle escaped her lips at the thought.

Logan climbed aboard and sat beside her on the leather seat. “What’s so funny?”

So she told him.

His eyebrows went up, and his mouth quirked in a grin. “I’d say you had a little too much to drink, but we both had sweet tea.” He leaned back in the seat and regarded her. “I’m glad we did this tonight. I think we’ve both needed a break from work.”

“Nice night for a ride,” their driver said as he flicked the reins and got his horse going. “Look at that moon!”

They looked. It rose slowly over the fort, casting the structure in a mysterious mix of light and shadow.

“Where are you folks from?”

“Here.”

He turned and shot them a grin. “Well, how about that. So you two want the quiet tour or the regular one? I don’t charge mo’ money for the talking one,” he said with a chuckle.

“My friend here is new to the town,” Tess told him, shooting Logan a grin. “Why don’t you give him the talking one so he knows about this place he’s landed?”

So the driver gave them the tour as the horse pulled the carriage, and it felt like it always did when she took a ride on one—like a trip back in time with the clip-clop of horse hooves on cobblestone and on paved roads. The carriage bore old-fashioned lamps that cast a gentle glow and a blanket to pull over your lap if the night grew cool.

The beam from the lighthouse cut through some low-lying clouds, sending a signal to any mariners out this night. Tess thought the sight of it was reassuring and yet a little remote and sad. She turned slightly to watch it as the carriage moved along the waterfront.

“You okay?”

When she glanced back at him, the breeze sent a long strand of her hair across her face. He caught it and tucked it behind her ear in a gesture unexpected and intimate. Her eyes widened, and her throat went dry.

“Sorry,” he said, jerking his hand back.

“It’s okay,” she said and her cheeks warmed as she heard the huskiness in her voice.

She wasn’t surprised at her reaction to his touch. The carriage ride on a beautiful summer night with the moon rising and a soft breeze coming off the water after a relaxing and delicious dinner. A handsome man she’d found such an intelligent and compatible partner at work, who also seemed attracted to her.

Dangerous combination.

“You looked sad.”

She shrugged. “I know buildings don’t have emotions, but the lighthouse always looks like a little lonely to me.”

“It had to be a lonely life for the man who tended it,” he said thoughtfully. “Some of them didn’t have families and even if they did, they could be the only ones for miles and miles.”

The horse pranced in place, eager to make the turn at the light. Tess remembered how the carriage horses stepped lively through the intersection from her days at her part-time job.

And then another memory struck her as she gazed at the two big marble lions guarding its base. Suddenly Tess could hear Sam crying. She tensed as the memory washed over her like a relentless tide, as real and vivid as the night she’d wept on Tess’s shoulder. Sam’s boyfriend had driven over the bridge in his beloved sports car and pretended to hear the lions baying at her. Local legend had it that they roared whenever a chaste young woman crossed the bridge, and he jeered at her because she wanted to save herself for marriage.

“What is it? What are you remembering?”

She turned to him. “Sam came to me crying about her boyfriend the day before she was killed,” she said. “He didn’t want to take no for an answer.”

“He was discounted as a suspect fairly early on, wasn’t he?”

Tess frowned. “Some of us thought too early. His parents are wealthy and prominent in the community.”

“So maybe we need to take another look at him?”

“I’d like to,” she said, watching him for his reaction. “I remember no one took me seriously when I tried to tell them what she said.”

“You’re not a teenage girl without influence this time. You’re a woman with the ability to speak for your friend.”

She nodded and smiled slightly. “So hear me roar? Let’s go talk to Wendell Hendricks, Jr., tomorrow.”

Logan dug through the files and did some research before Tess got to the office the next day.

He wanted to know more about Sam’s boyfriend. While it might seem like an advantage to grow up in the area and know many people, it could be a positive to not know them and look on things in an entirely new way.

Wendell Hendricks, Jr., had followed in his father’s footsteps and now worked as an attorney in his firm. His wife of five years, Muffi Langston Hendricks, was also an associate at the firm. The local newspaper featured photographs of them attending numerous events in local society.

Tess rushed in. “Sorry. Court case ran late.”

“No problem. I’ve been doing some light reading on Hendricks.”

He watched the way she moved to sit behind her computer and wondered if there’d be any awkwardness after last night . . . would she think he’d overstepped when he touched her hair? She logged onto her computer and seemed all business. He looked down at the file and when he glanced up a few minutes later, he caught her looking at him.

“About—”

She shook her head. “Not here.”

They were alone in the office but he nodded.

“Just give me a minute so I can check for messages, then we’ll go. I told Hendricks we’d be there about noon.”

A few minutes later, she stood and grabbed her notepad. “Ready?”

“Sure.”

He waited until they were in the car and out of the parking lot before he turned to her. “Afraid the office is bugged?”

“If I say yes, will you think I’m paranoid?”

“Yes, but it could be true. I’ve heard of stations that did it. Best to err on the side of caution if you’re not comfortable with being overheard. I just wanted to say that I had a great time last night.”

She glanced at him briefly and smiled. “I did, too.”

“So we’re okay?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

He wasn’t a dummy. “No reason.”

“You’re a strange man, Logan.”

They drove to the law firm and parked. Logan glanced up at the elaborately redone Victorian building and whistled. “Wow. Some digs.”

Tess didn’t say anything as they walked into the building.

Hendricks stood when his assistant ushered them into his office. “Why, Tess, what a surprise.”

“We called ahead.”

“I know. I haven’t seen you in years.” He stepped around a massive desk and shook Logan’s hand. “Wendell Hendricks.”

“Logan McMillan.”

“Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee? Perrier?”

“We’re fine. Detective Villanova and I are investigating Samantha Marshall’s murder.”

“That was years ago.”

“No statute of limitations on murder.”

“No, no, I’m sure not and there shouldn’t be,” he said quickly. “I just thought you’d be working on the latest murder.”

“We are,” Tess spoke up.

“So they’re connected.”

“We’re looking at all the angles,” Logan said. “I’d like to ask you some questions about Ms. Marshall.”

“I answered them all at the time.”

Logan knew from what he’d read in the file and what Tess had said about Hendricks’s father stepping in and shutting down questioning pretty quickly after the murder.

“Never hurts to go over things again, see if anything was missed.”

Wendell sat back in his leather chair, steepled his fingers, and looked at Logan over them. “True. It’s just hard to remember much. It’s been years.”

“Not that many,” Tess responded briefly.

“I’m sorry, I know this must be painful for you,” Wendell said. “The two of you were friends.”

Tess flipped open her notepad. “How long did you and Sam date?”

“You’d know the answer to that—”

“Forget that we know each other, Wendell, and just answer the question.”

Wendell looked irritated, but quickly masked his expression. “We dated for a few months our senior year.”

“And you were together at the prom?”

“Yes, I was her date.”

“Were you and Sam having any problems before that night?”

“No.”

“But she left the prom that night after what we understand was a disagreement?”

Wendell spread his hands. “A minor misunderstanding. I danced one dance with another girl. It was petty high school drama.”

Logan watched Tess’s reaction. She and Sam had been close friends. But if Wendell had hoped Tess would react to his remark with emotion, he was wrong.

“How so, Wendell?” she asked calmly.

“There was no need to go off in a jealous snit.”

“And you feel Sam did this?”

He shrugged. “I think the facts speak for themselves.”

“And where were you during the time she left the prom?”

“At the prom, of course.”

“According to statements by two witnesses, there was a forty-five minute period when no one saw you.”

“I left for a few minutes to look for Sam. But it was just for a few minutes.”

Logan tapped his pen on his notepad and studied Wendell. He didn’t have a high opinion of attorneys in general, but there was something about this guy that just bothered him.

“Maybe it’s time for you to meet someone,” Wendell said. He picked up his phone and punched in a number. “Can you come in here for a moment? Thanks.”

The door to the office opened and a woman walked in. She wore a lot of gold jewelry and a white suit that clung to her curves.

Tess lifted her brows. “Muffi.”

The woman inclined her blond head. “Tess.” She glanced at Logan. “And who’s this? I don’t believe we’ve met.” She offered her hand.

Logan rose and introduced himself.

“Muffi, the detectives are here asking questions about Samantha. You remember, from high school.”

“Yes, terrible tragedy. So, Tess, you’re a detective already? I guess these things go quickly when you have relatives in the business.”

“No, they don’t. I had to take a test.”

Muffi’s eyes narrowed. She turned to Wendell. “Darling, why did you call me in here?”

Wendell looked at Tess, then Logan. “I would appreciate it if you keep what Muffi is about to tell you confidential.”

Logan exchanged a glance with Tess. “All right.”

“Muffi, Tess and Logan say there was about forty-five minutes where I was away from the prom.”

She nodded. “Well, this is rather embarrassing. You have to remember Wendell and I were just teenagers at our senior prom.”

“Go on,” Tess said.

Muffi shrugged. “Well, I know where Wendell was. He was with me, making out in his car in the parking lot.”