“Why yes.” She beamed. “I even brought one along to show you if we have time.”

  “I’d love to see it.” That derailed Belle’s entire thoughts about who killed Jeremiah Fisher. It still didn’t provide Claire with a solid alibi, because she was alone at the time, but it was enough to plant seeds of doubt. “Have we sold any raffle tickets?”

  Claire didn’t even bother to look ashamed. “Not too many.”

  Belle had a feeling that ‘not too many’ meant zero. That was why she wanted The Beanery station next to their table. People drink coffee, warm up, then they buy raffle tickets.

  “Bixby,” she said.

  It was like he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I’ll get right on it.”

  It worked perfectly. People were drawn to the hot, steaming coffee, to the eye-catching colors and graphics of pumpkins and cinnamon on their sign. They were aware of the cool bite in the air; eventually, they drifted their way.

  Bixby served the coffee, introduced Belle as the owner and talked up the library. They took a step toward her, studied the list of prizes. They learned all monetary donations went toward the library. Belle talked up her new haircut, of course mentioning Sally and her prize. In fact, she found it easy to talk about the people behind the donations. The wonderful business owners she’d met this week.

  Just as she was envisioning the new friendships, the new community, it came out of nowhere. The voices of her aunt and uncle, their words piercing her thoughts. Like vicious stabs from a knife. You think those wonderful people will want to be your friend? Ha! They’d rather be friends with a porcupine. Her uncle always had a way of putting her down just when she started to feel hope. Her aunt always followed up with a cackle and her own bit of wisdom. Quit while you’re ahead. Or be a nincompoop and learn the hard way. Either way, you’ll end up having to learn to make it by yourself. Alone.

  Belle tried to ignore the voices from her past. It did take some enthusiasm from her presentation to the point that Claire noticed. She stood, motioning Belle to take a seat. “Let me take over for a bit.”

  The funnel continued, the chain of coffee to raffle tickets. Belle tried to focus on the fact that Forsythia would be proud. There was nothing she could complain about. About mid-morning, there was a lull.

  Claire sat in her chair. “I know exactly what you need.” She dug around in a large purse. “You need to see the scrapbook of my Sweet’ums. Brightens everyone’s day.”

  “Why?” Belle asked, her filter gone. She could feel her cheeks growing hot. She had doubted Claire’s story about the scrapbook.

  “Why what?” Claire seemed truly puzzled.

  Belle couldn’t understand why she called Jeremiah Sweet’ums and acted so loving toward him when they were separated. There had to be aspects of marriage she just didn’t understand. “I don’t mean to be rude, but…never mind. It’s none of my business.”

  Claire hoisted the tome onto her lap. “Here, these photos will cheer you up.” She whipped open the book, talking non-stop about the memories. She babbled on about her Sweet’ums.

  It was a shock at first. Jeremiah was not in one of the photographs.

  It was a dog.

  It was small and…. cute.

  “A dog,” Belle gasped.

  “Of course. Sweet’ums is my cockapoo. My baby. Look at that cuteness. My little sweetie pie, cutie muffin.”

  Belle had never seen such love shining in someone’s eyes. Eyes that were now glistening with unshed tears. Everything about Claire transformed when she talked about Sweet’ums. The hard angles and expressions turned soft. The potential for unkindness turned into a mushy love. Her voice was gentle. Belle listened to the stories. She got the feeling that something happened to Sweet’ums.

  The stories Claire told were filled with happy memories. At some point, her voice cracked, her breaths came fast and she couldn’t finish sentences without the catch of a sob. The woman tried holding it together, but she broke down, the sobs escaping in bursts.

  With a soft touch, Belle patted Claire’s hand. “I’m sorry.” She hated to ask. She didn’t want to ask. When she spoke, it was almost a whisper. “What happened?”

  Claire fell silent for a few moments. When she spoke, her voice was bitter. It was nasty. It was vicious. “We were in the middle of the divorce, and Jerry wouldn’t let me have my angel. Right now, my little pooch is at a shelter.”

  “Can he do that?” Belle asked, shocked. Though she shouldn’t be surprised at that man’s capability for hateful acts.

  The laugh that came from Claire was filled with hurt and pain and rage. The tears vanished. “Honey, when you have fancy lawyers and a lot of cash, anything is possible. Even keeping a cockapoo captive.” She gritted her teeth. “Too bad he was murdered; he was about to be introduced to my lawyers in a major suit. He might have lost everything.” She let out a wistful sigh. “His death sure will save me a bundle in lawyer fees.”

  “Are you able to get him from the pound now…?” Belle couldn’t say the words, now that Jeremiah was gone.

  “My lawyers are working on it. That bitter man tried his hardest to keep her from me, even in death. Just cruel.”

  Silence fell between them. Claire gazed off into the crowds of people. Belle managed to sell a few more tickets. She barely noticed it was Hannah Lewis standing in front of her with a cup of coffee in-hand. She hadn’t thought about Hannah in a while. She also realized this would have been a great time to slip in some subtle questions about Jamie.

  She didn’t need to because Claire spoke. “I should’ve listened to you, Hannah.”

  Hannah shifted, clearly wanting to move onto another station, but she’d committed to buying a raffle ticket and was now hunting for some dollar bills.

  Claire had no problem launching into the backstory. Maybe she needed the distraction. “Hannah here is also one who’s not saddened at the sudden death of Jeremiah.”

  What?

  The noises from the festival, the chatter, the laughter, the music from the band faded. The conversation right in front of her between Claire and Hannah became crystal clear. Every word sharp and pointed.

  “She and I have a lot in common.”

  “What’s that?” Belle asked, her mind racing.

  Hannah laughed but it was choppy and forced. “No need to talk about those times.”

  “Oh, no. Belle, you’ve got to hear this. It was a big day, when Hannah marched into the office and fired Jeremiah. Of course, he thought he knew it all, and when Hannah here didn’t cooperate and wanted something other than he suggested, he was furious.” She chuckled at the memory. “You should have heard Jeremiah rant about it. He couldn’t stand it when someone didn’t take his advice.”

  “No, really, Claire. It was months ago. Not worth talking about.” Her voice sounded shrill, unlike the timid woman Belle took her for.

  “I should have listened to you, Hannah.” Claire nudge Belle. “She advised me to hit him where it hurts. She suggested giving him extra laxatives. Make him suffer in the small ways.”

  There were no words. None.

  Belle could barely wrap her head around it all. This conversation revealed a side of Hannah that she didn’t show most people. A side that was devious, sneaky. Even cruel. It showed a toughness, a lack of empathy. Like she had no problem acting underhanded to get what she wanted. She and Jeremiah were two peas in a pod. Maybe that was why they couldn’t work together. Maybe Jamie was more pliable, more open to her suggestions.

  Then Belle thought back to the day of the murder. To an aspect she hadn’t given much thought to. She was surprised she managed a question at all. She looked at Hannah. “Was it you who planted the recorder of the ghost noises?”

  The implication being obvious. That by making it seem like there were ghosts, she could force the seller to a lower price. Jeremiah had to have seen through that.

  “That sounds just like something Hannah might do. Same with Jeremiah. No moral code. Or a flexible one,” Claire added.

  Hannah didn’t say anything, her face pale.

  Claire confessed, “I’m sure the both of us at one point in time considered doing away with the man.” It was a joke. A bad one. She seemed to remember who she was talking to, and that Belle was friends with a detective. She attempted to change the subject, her voice shaky. “Of course, we didn’t.”

  Belle tried to see if Bixby was paying attention, taking note of all this, but he’d hung the sign saying he’d be right back. Darn. He missed it all. She zeroed in on Hannah. “Have you heard of Todd McGovern?”

  “Who’s that?” Hannah asked.

  “Most likely,” Belle said, “a pseudonym for the killer. Todd had an appointment for a showing scheduled with Jeremiah the day of the murder.”

  Hannah slapped the dollar bills on the table. “You should ask Claire about that.” Then she left, heading toward the exit at a brisk walk.

  “Claire?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Belle wasn’t sure how to interpret the fact that Claire wouldn’t answer the question, or didn’t know how to answer it. They’d been talking about Todd McGovern and the pseudonym and the showing the day of the murder. Belle repeated the question. “Claire, what did Hannah mean by that? Do you know something about the identity behind Todd McGovern?”

  “Not sure why you want to know or why you care.” She flashed Belle a pointed look, all the sorrow over Sweet’ums gone. She moved into defense mode.

  Belle had to say something if she wanted Claire to tell her what she knew. “Listen, I know you’ve been through a hard time. You’ve lost your husband. Even if you were separated you had years together.”

  “Honey, I know you’re still a baby when it comes to love and marriage. I hope you find yourself a darn good husband with a lot of money and loves you properly. Quite frankly, I’m not surprised Jeremiah’s dead. He had it coming to him.” She huffed, stuffing her scrapbook into her large purse. She stood on shaky legs. “You can go tell your little detective boyfriend that. I don’t care anymore.”

  Belle was shocked. Was that a confession? It sounded like one. It sounded close. “What happened that day between you two?”

  “None of your business,” she said, primly.

  “Detective Graystone isn’t even on the murder case. He’s on the rash of robberies.”

  Claire laughed. “Oh yes. The robberies. They were happening right in our neighborhood. Well, I don’t live there anymore. Go track down Hannah. Bet she could tell you something about it. She grew up in that neighborhood. Her grandparents had some jewelry stolen. That’s why she worked with Jeremiah in the first place. A recommendation. A connection.”

  “Have you told Detective Malloy any of this?” Belle asked.

  “That’s confidential. I don’t have to share any of that with you.” She sniffed. “Now, I feel a migraine coming on after this emotional distress. I’m sorry, Belle. You’re on your own.” She also strode briskly toward the exit.

  Belle sat in a daze. Was she watching the killer walk away?

  She’d learned more in the past hour and the information she’d learned was like taking a hammer to the case. Did Mona realize the robberies and the murder might be connected? Belle had always leaned toward Claire.

  Bixby slid into the seat Claire had vacated. “Apologies. I had to get more supplies. We’ve done well this morning…” He waved a hand in front of her. “Are you okay?”

  She looked at Bixby. “I think Claire just confessed.”

  “To the murder of Jeremiah?”

  “Well, kind of. Not really. Heavily implied. But Hannah was here.” The rest of it came out in a rush. “So, Claire’s alibi was scrapbooking and she showed me it today but she still could have made it any time. Hannah was here and she might know something about the robberies, and Hannah is proving to be more of a suspect than anyone realized. I don’t even think she’s on the suspect list, but she might have created the ghost noises, and months ago she’d fired Jeremiah as an agent.” Belle only stopped when she ran out of words.

  “Wow. I thought I wouldn’t miss much. I imagine if Hannah were guilty, she would have at least been questioned.”

  “She might have but Detective Malloy doesn’t share anything.” Belle thought back to the day of the showing. “Hannah was there touring the house, but she wasn’t the one who drew attention. She was quiet, wandering through the rooms. Never in the middle of a crowd. It was the fights Jeremiah and Jamie had with Phil Graystone that stuck out.” She remembered discovering the body. It popped into her mind. The ring! The sapphire ring. “When Lucas and I found the body, there was a sapphire ring nearby. Claire said Hannah’s grandparents were one of the victims of the robberies.”

  Bixby could barely sit still. “Remember that Jeremiah talked about the crows coming home to roost. Could he have had something to do with the robberies?”

  “But why?” That made no sense to Belle. “He has to have millions. He’s one of the most successful agents in the area. He has no reason to steal jewelry.”

  Bixby shrugged. “Some do it for the thrill, or just because they can. It’s a power thing. Where did Claire go?”

  “She was distraught. She had a migraine due to emotional stress so she left.”

  “What about Lucas?”

  Lucas. It only took Bixby mentioning him to realize she had to tell him everything. He was supposed to be here by now and as far as she knew he wasn’t. She had to talk to Mona, too. The image of both Hannah and Claire leaving, practically running, sparked panic in her chest.

  Did they feel the walls closing in? Had Belle asked one too many questions? Were they in enough of an agitated state to do something stupid?

  “You need to find Lucas,” Bixby stated, looking her right in the eyes and then pointed to the table. “I’ll take care of the coffee and the raffle. I will remind you here that you should actually use your phone.”

  He’d been bugging her to use it for a while, but she always left it at home. Aunt Eliza had an ancient computer that still managed basic Google searches. Her aunt and uncle constantly talked about smart phones as the downfall of society. Maybe she needed to reconsider. “Can we use yours?”

  “I haven’t been able to get a good signal.” He pulled it out and checked. “Nope. Still nothing. It might be faster if you just drove to his house.”

  Very funny. Belle understood right away what he was doing. Trying to get her to drive the station wagon. Something she’d been putting off. She narrowed her eyes. “I see what you’re doing.” Then said, “Could I use your car? I promise I’ll try and drive the wagon tomorrow.”

  “Fine.” Bixby patted his pockets. “I swear they were here. I remember locking the car. They must’ve dropped out of my pocket.” He reached into one pocket. “But I have these.” He held up the keys to the wagon.

  Belle gasped. “You already gave me those keys.”

  “You conveniently left them at the shop.” He pressed them into her hand. “You can do this. I promise.”

  “Fine. But if I take off someone’s side view mirror, you’re paying for it.”

  He waved her away. “Go!”

  She started at a sprint toward The Beanery. It quickly turned into a jog, then a fast walk. Huffing and puffing, she finally reached the shop and headed toward the back where Bixby always parked. Where Belle used to when she had a car.

  There it was. The ugliest station wagon in Everly.

  But it was her only ride.

  She gripped the keys and stalked toward it. It was now or never.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He didn’t use the lights.

  In fact, he parked down the street from the Fisher’s home and walked back. Whether that was from his own sense that Detective Malloy wouldn’t approve of his idea he couldn’t say. There was a good chance Mona would follow him here. He also didn’t want to draw the attention of neighbors.

  It didn’t take much to unlock the back door.

  It was a large house, one of the grander ones, but Lucas hadn’t seen any cameras or security, which was surprising. He’d expected the alarms to go off. If Mona followed him or stopped by here because it was tied to the murder case, Lucas wanted something to show for his indiscretion.

  The house was eerily quiet, a stale feeling to it. No sense that someone made coffee that morning. No breakfast dishes in the sink. Not that he expected there to be any.

  If Jeremiah were the thief, where would he hide the stolen jewelry?

  At the one official interview he managed to squeeze in before Malloy took over, he’d talked to Mia. She’d said that even at social events held by Graystone Estates, Jeremiah would be off by himself. Now, Lucas reasoned, that could easily be his disdain for the masses, even other agents. It could be unwillingness to mix and go along with social expectations. Maybe it was guilt.

  What if it was to establish precedent? What if it was because when no one was looking, he was either rifling through the agents’ files in order to steal clients, or he was looking for potential tips? Jamie had accused Jeremiah of stealing clients and acting in underhanded ways.

  What if at social gatherings in the neighborhood, it was also to show that it was normal for Jeremiah to be off by himself? Maybe in the backyard looking at the stars, or inside studying the bookshelves.

  A man like Jeremiah wouldn’t steal because he needed money. It might not even be for the thrill. No, it was like a dog marking territory. It was about power and control. No matter how twisted it was. If these cases were connected, it opened a huge field of suspects.

  Lucas stole up the stairs. He’d start in the bedroom. It was an extravagant master bedroom with a larger bed than anyone could possibly need or want. It was lavishly decorated. Clearly, Claire’s touch, her taste, imprinted in everything in the room, the furniture, the bedspread, the large number of decorative pillows on the bed. He went right to the nightstand. There was a pair of reading glasses, eye drops, some cough drops. That’s it. Nothing in the drawers.