He gently lifted any paintings on the walls to look for a safe. Nothing. For a few minutes, he stood in the doorway, just studying the room in case he missed anything.

  Next, he went to the study downstairs. As a realtor, Lucas assumed Jeremiah would have an office of sorts. Realtors worked a tremendous number of hours, and it wasn’t all at Graystone Estates.

  The room was orderly. Again, he noticed the stale smell, as if no one had moved about it or opened windows. Not even Claire returning for items. Files covered the desk. Lucas slipped on gloves and sifted through them. Some of his theory was proven correct. He had a file on the other realtors at the office. From the looks of it, he tracked their sales, their clients, any potential parties interested in selling their home.

  Other files were of clients. Some with the sale date already scribbled in, but some were in progress.

  One name stuck out at him on a file.

  Hannah Lewis.

  Why would Jeremiah have a file on Hannah Lewis who happened to work with Jamie Finch? Jamie worked for a completely different company. Was Jeremiah trying to poach clients? Were Jamie’s accusations founded on truth?

  He flipped open the file and groaned. The man’s handwriting was illegible. A black scrawl. Lucas could barely pick out words. He tried to guess, but it was impossible. The only phrase he could manage to solve was ‘very difficult client’. Hannah didn’t strike him as the kind of person who would be a difficult client. He closed the file.

  Where would Jeremiah hide the stolen jewels? That was the question.

  He heard a noise and pulled his gun.

  Mona stepped into the room, gun in hand, eyes flashing. For a moment, neither of them lowered their weapon. They stood in the darkened office, facing off. Lucas finally dropped his arm and tucked his weapon away, because this was a ridiculous situation.

  “I knew you weren’t going to let this rest. The way you left the room told me. Why are you here, Detective Graystone?”

  “Believe it or not, our cases are connected. I’m here to look for the stolen jewelry.”

  “Yet you parked down the street and didn’t share your plans. You knew on some level this was wrong.”

  She was right. He could at least admit that. “Apologies. You haven’t earned my trust. You didn’t seem willing to listen.”

  “You need to leave,” she stated, flatly.

  He straightened. “No, I don’t need to leave. It’s not my job to confer with you or run things past you. You’ve proven to be unwilling to work with me because my dad is a suspect. That’s fine. But you left valuable information on the table when you refused to hear what I’d discovered before you took over.”

  “Your information was tainted. Your interviews discounted. They had to be. I am more than capable of running the same interviews and gathering information for myself.”

  He tried to contain his growing anger. “I am able to separate work and family. You don’t know me. You know nothing about me.”

  “I know you care deeply about family.” Mona’s voice didn’t waver. “You feel a sense of responsibility for the people in your community. Sometimes you carry too much of that burden. Especially since your sister died in the car accident. You’ve taken on more than you should.”

  “Are you talking about my niece?” he shot out, furious. No, he didn’t want to know the answer to that question. Obviously, she was. He didn’t want to participate in this discussion any longer. “Detective Malloy, you can either stay and hear what I have to say about the cases—”

  Was that movement he heard? In the kitchen?

  He sucked in a breath, winded after their confrontation. This wasn’t what they should be arguing about. He should have forced Mona to listen instead. She should have told him where she was with the murder case. He knew the answers were coming. This case would be solved within the next hour.

  “You need—”

  Lucas whipped up his hand, then motioned toward the kitchen. He slid out his gun. Every instinct in him told him to leave first, to protect. He had a feeling Mona wouldn’t appreciate that.

  She pulled her gun, her focus instantly moving from their argument to the noise. The killer could be in the kitchen.

  They crept out of Jeremiah’s study and headed back to the kitchen. The person shuffled about not even trying to be quiet. Mona must have parked further down the street, too, because by the amount of noise this person was making, they didn’t know cops were in the house.

  At the kitchen doorway, Mona paused.

  They waited a few seconds, then she motioned for them to enter.

  At the same time, they stepped into the room, the person was leaving the kitchen. They were face to face.

  “You!” Lucas exclaimed.

  The woman gasped. She stuttered, acting flustered. “Why Detective Graystone, Malloy.”

  It was Claire Fisher. Now why would Claire Fisher be nosing around in Jeremiah’s house when she hadn’t lived here for a couple of months? Maybe Claire knew about Jeremiah’s habit. Maybe she wanted to see for herself. Maybe she wanted some of the jewelry.

  It was then her gaze dropped to the guns in their hands. The guns pointed at her. Lucas dropped his, but Malloy kept her arm steady.

  Like night and day, Claire went pasty white, eyes big. Then her lips trembled and Lucas knew she was working up to something.

  She let out a wail. “You two just can’t imagine the day I’ve had. It’s been a tough morning. I’ve already been through the ringer. You want to shoot me. Go ahead. That’s about the kind of day I’ve had.”

  Lucas felt confident in asking questions as his case pertained to this house, and Claire, just as much as the murder case. “What happened this morning, Claire?”

  “Oh, it’s been a terrible morning. A walk down memory lane. I was…working at the festival, talking with Belle, and she kept pressing and pressing, then Hannah was there. I brought my scrapbook….” She let out a giant sob. Lucas had seen crocodile tears before, but with Claire it was hard to tell. After all, she had been through a lot.

  “What scrapbook?” Detective Malloy asked.

  “Oh, of my Sweet’ums. I’d show you but it’s in the car.” She raised her hands, covering her face, her chest heaving. “Fine.” She dropped her hands. “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take the guilt. I did it!”

  Malloy straightened, moving forward. “To be clear, you’re confessing to—”

  “Yes! I can’t bear the weight anymore. I did it.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Belle repeated the words over and over. “I can do this. I can drive from one place to another in this gigantic car without taking off a side view mirror or backing into someone.”

  With shaky hands, she unlocked the door. She’d never noticed the size of this parking lot before. The smallness of it. The way the line of trees closed it in. The way the back of their shop jutted out. The way it would be nearly impossible to turn around, and she didn’t have the skills to back out. The only place she was allowed to drive when she lived with her aunt and uncle were the grocery store and doctor appointments. Of course, she’d had a lot more experiences in the past four years as she bounced from job to job, but she’d never made a concerted effort to improve her skills behind the wheel. She’d played it safe.

  Now she wished she’d listened to Bixby and tried taking this behemoth when it wasn’t an emergency. Was this an emergency? She wasn’t sure. She knew she needed to talk to Lucas. At least make sure he was okay.

  She climbed inside, shut the door, inserted the key into the ignition, and turned it on. The engine roared to life, then settled. It sounded like the muffler needed to be fixed. It sounded like an elephant snoring, if elephants snored. People would hear her coming from a mile away.

  Sweaty, heart-pounding, she attempted to turn around. She failed. She tried again, starting from the same position. A three-point turn wouldn’t work. She tried again.

  Finally, in short maneuvers, in about an eighteen-point turn, the nose of the car faced the exit. “Time to do this.”

  She pulled onto Main Street, heading away from the festival in the direction of Lucas’ house. She had to try there first. Her gaze was like a laser focused on a target. She didn’t take her eyes off the road or the straight path in front of her.

  Maneuvering Main Street was full of hazards she hadn’t noticed when she had her small rattletrap car. The way some just crossed the road whenever without looking. It happened twice.

  A door flew open from a car parked on the side of the road. She swerved, gasping. Inches away from taking off the door.

  Once off Main Street, she took a deep breath. “I can do this. I can do this.”

  When she arrived in front of Lucas’ house, she parked on the road. The squad car was gone. She envisioned him at the festival, smiling, walking with his mom and Lexie. Maybe they were at the fair right now spitting out pumpkin seeds.

  She wished.

  Her gut told her something else entirely. She just wasn’t sure what it was saying. Feeling weak from the rush of adrenaline, she took a deep breath and walked toward the house. It was locked, but she knew where to find the key hidden in a small canister behind hedges in the front.

  Inside, she moved toward the dining table, not even sure what she was looking for. He’d left his files open, like he left suddenly this morning.

  She studied them. Clearly, he’d been following the murder, tracking the clues and evidence the best he could. She followed his notes, his train of thought as she read about the fights between Jamie and Jeremiah. His interview with Mia. How Jeremiah was anti-social, would often be found off by himself.

  Then there were the notes from the murder scene, the clues they found, The Beanery cup and the ring.

  The ring.

  This was where she knew Lucas must have had an epiphany. Why would Jeremiah have a sapphire ring? Lucas was investigating stolen jewelry. Jeremiah liked to go off by himself. Claire kept asking for money. Jeremiah was a miser or seemed to be from what Belle could tell.

  What would Lucas be thinking?

  He’d be thinking there was a connection. He’d try to talk to Mona and she would have none of it. She wouldn’t think beyond the rules. He would though. He’d find proof to show Mona, forcing her to listen to him.

  There was the fact that both Claire and Hannah left the festival, upset after talking about the murder.

  Belle felt ill.

  Where was Lucas? Where did Claire and Hannah go?

  After one more quick study of his notes, she found the address.

  She raced back to the wagon, not even thinking about its size. If she took off a mirror, so be it. Where would Lucas go? He’d try to find the jewelry. If he was thinking Jeremiah was the thief, he’d go to their home. Not the place Claire moved into, but where Jeremiah last lived.

  With a burning sensation that ripped through her to protect, to help, to be there for him the way he’d been there for her, she pressed on the gas.

  She heard a crunch. Did she just hit his mailbox?

  It took eight minutes, and yes, she went past the speed limit, the roar of her engine complaining, announcing she was on her way.

  Before she was at the right address, she saw his police car parked on the side of the road. She slowed, looking for a place to park. There was a space right in front of his car, before another vehicle. It didn’t look like enough room. No way would she parallel park. She’d have to reverse and park behind him. She pressed the gas and looked back.

  She heard the impact. She felt the impact. She saw his side view mirror dangling. She kept going. She parked behind him. It was a terrible job, but right then, she didn’t care.

  Especially when she saw Hannah and Jamie Finch streaking across the yard toward the back of the house.

  Lucas was in danger. She felt it in her gut.

  Yes, he could take care of himself, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t use backup. She had nothing. She thought about the ugly vase at home, the one she would pick up when strangers arrived at her door or when she heard strange noises in the house. It wasn’t like she could drive around with that in the back of her car.

  She approached Lucas’ car to examine the damage. Nothing a little duct tape wouldn’t fix. Then she noticed the garden gnome she’d left in his car.

  Perfect.

  With gnome in hand, she followed Hannah and Jamie toward the back entrance. As she crept along the side of the house, she heard voices inside. She peeked, then ducked to the side. Definitely Lucas. And Mona. Who was the other person? She quickly peeked again.

  Claire. It was Claire.

  Of all places, Claire came here. But why? Belle didn’t have time to contemplate that because she heard Jamie and Hannah arguing around the corner at the back of the house. She crept along the side until she was close enough to listen.

  “You did it. I know you did. I knew all along,” he hissed. “You need to confess.”

  Belle bit her lip to hold back the audible gasp. How did Jamie get involved with this and were they talking about Jeremiah?

  “No, you won’t,” Hannah bit back, once again, revealing a different side to her than she presented in public.

  “I’ve kept quiet long enough.” There was a huffiness to his voice. An indignant tone, like he’d had enough. “I am an ethical person. I live by a moral code. I’ve been in the red ever since working with you. I refuse to do it anymore. I have to say something.”

  Hannah said, “Oh no, you’ll do exactly what I say or I’ll tell everyone your part in it. You might even lose your license for unethical practices. You know you wanted this sale just as much as I did. You were willing to look the other way, so don’t try to weasel out of this now and play the innocent.”

  Thoughts raced through Belle’s mind. The detectives were just inside. She needed to herd them into the kitchen. It came to her in a second what to do, the weight of the gnome in her hand. She noticed the point of the gnome’s red hat. Then, when she heard a wail that could only be Claire, Belle took action.

  She stepped around the corner and jammed the point into Hannah’s back. To her it was so obviously not a gun or a knife, any kind of weapon that could force anyone to do anything.

  “Hands up!” she ordered, trying to sound like Lucas when he was in cop mode. “Don’t turn around. Step inside the kitchen. Both of you. Now!”

  “Now look what you’ve done,” Hannah accused.

  Jamie acted offended. “I didn’t do anything but follow you here. I was suspicious about a lot of things.”

  “Go on,” Belle ordered, pushing harder against Hannah’s back.

  “You just want the sale,” Hannah accused. “You don’t care about me or anything else.”

  Jamie had no answer. Probably because it was true. Belle knew how desperately he’d wanted his client to purchase this expensive house.

  She herded them into the kitchen. The tromping of their feet and their continued argument drew the attention of everyone in the room.

  Both Lucas and Mona looked in surprise. Claire noticed and rolled her eyes as if to say, Terrific, just what I needed. That was when Belle realized Claire knew more than she had ever revealed.

  “Jamie, tell the detective what I just overheard,” Belle ordered.

  “I don’t have to say anything. You’re not the boss of me.”

  Mona ordered, “You should tell us or you’ll go down to the station.”

  “Fine.” Jamie huffed. “I convinced Hannah she needed to come clean about everything. Confess.”

  A flicker of confusion passed across Mona’s face. “Confess what?”

  Claire burst into the conversation. “I’m not surprised one bit that Hannah killed Jeremiah. She was the most difficult, demanding client Jerry ever had. Not surprised at all.” She glared at Hannah. “You just couldn’t handle the fact that he wouldn’t bow to your threats. You threatened and bribed him until he refused to work with you.”

  “I fired him.”

  “Only because he couldn’t let you go first.”

  Belle stood behind Hannah, the pointy gnome hat still pressed into the woman’s back. She wished she could see the facial expressions as a result of that conversation, as Hannah must feel flustered. Two detectives in the room. Two others who knew of her crafty ways.

  “It was Claire,” Hannah burst out. “She killed Jeremiah.”

  Claire gathered herself like a hen about to peck someone’s eyes out. “I did no such thing.”

  “I witnessed it,” Hannah stated. “With my own eyes.”

  “What happened?” Mona asked.

  “I was there the day of the murder. I came back after the open house.”

  “Yes,” Jamie added, “tell them why you came back. Confess to it all.”

  Belle figured it out just as Hannah confessed.

  “Fine. I planted the recordings of the ghost noises. Yes, I was trying to bring the cost of the house down. They were greedy.”

  “What did you see, exactly?” Mona asked.

  “I heard Claire and Jeremiah arguing over money. I peeked around the corner of the kitchen just in time to see her violently shove Jeremiah over the railing.”

  “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” Claire broke down. “I might have wanted Jerry gone. He could be a cruel man. I might have wished him dead on and off, but he still provided for me. He may have been tight-fisted but he still paid. He just wanted me to beg.” Claire turned to Lucas and Mona. “Yes, I was Todd McGovern. I scheduled the appointment so Jerry would have to talk to me. I was there to beg him for Sweet’ums.”

  Belle remembered her own confusion. “Sweet’ums is her dog that Jerry wouldn’t give back to her.”

  Claire sobbed again. “I would have done anything to get him back. Why would I kill Jerry? I would lose my source of financial support.”

  “You confessed,” Mona stated the obvious.

  “I saw her kill her husband,” Hannah jumped in. “She might not have wanted to kill him, but she was angry. Angry enough to push him. She might not have even wanted him to go over the railing.”

  A look of pure horror crossed Claire’s face. She turned to Mona. “You think I was confessing to murder?”