“I figured you folks would be coming to talk to me after a bit,” she commented, seemingly unfazed.

  “I would imagine so, since the victim was your husband,” Chas watched her carefully, looking for visual cues of uncertainty or guilt.

  “Ex-husband. Or at least he would’ve been in a couple of days. We’d made an agreement and had a court date set to finalize the divorce.”

  “When’s the last time you saw Buster?” Chas asked, using the victim’s name to see if it prompted a reaction. It didn’t, oddly.

  “Tuesday. We’d gotten everything all settled as far as property goes and all of that,” her eyes wandered, following pedestrians, cars that were coming and going, and an airplane that happened to fly overhead. She seemed very relaxed and Chas wondered if he was dealing with a sociopath.

  “Did you argue on Tuesday when you saw him?”

  “Are you kidding? We argued just about every time we were in the same room together.”

  “So that’s a yes?”

  “Sure,” she shrugged. “So?”

  “What was the nature of the argument?”

  “It was no big deal, really. I told him he was crazy if he thought he’d get away with screwing me out of what was rightfully mine, and eventually, he gave in.”

  “Did you threaten him?”

  “Only to say that I wasn’t going to let it go and that I’d fight him in court.”

  “Did you ever threaten that you’d kill him?”

  “I mean, when you say threaten…that’s a strong word. I say things like, if you do this or that, I’ll shoot you in the face, or slit your throat or something like that, but he knew I didn’t mean anything by it. I’ve got a temper and I say what’s on my mind. No big deal.”

  “What was on your mind was shooting him in the face or slitting his throat?” Chas clarified.

  Brenda smirked. “No, Detective. What was on my mind was getting what I wanted, and it worked every time.”

  “So, you’re saying you used threats to manipulate your husband?”

  “Only when he was being unreasonable.”

  Chas paused for a moment, processing what he just heard.

  “Mrs. Brogan, where were you on Wednesday afternoon and evening?”

  “I got called into work. I’m an ER nurse and they were busy, and had some extreme cases come in,” she smiled like the cat who ate the canary.

  “I see. And what time did you leave your home to go into work?”

  “About four-thirty.”

  “What were you doing prior to leaving for work?”

  “Absolutely nothing. It was supposed to be a day off, so I had a load of laundry in the washer, and I was watching TV.”

  “Was there anyone there with you?”

  “Nope, Heath was at work. I left before he got home,” Brenda looked pointedly at her watch. “How long is this going to take, Detective? I’ve had a long day and I’m hungry.”

  Chas stared at her for a moment without speaking, trying to gauge her reaction to his scrutiny. She maintained eye contact the entire time and only after several seconds did she speak.

  “Is there something else?” she crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

  “So…you didn’t have any visitors on Wednesday?”

  “There aren’t too many people wanting to hang out with me just now. It’s like they think murder is contagious or something,” she scoffed.

  “It can be,” Chas mused. “What can you tell me about Scooter Jones?”

  “Scooter? He’s a good guy, dumb as a box of rocks. What do you want to know?” Brenda sighed.

  “Do you think he could’ve killed Buster?”

  “I don’t know why he would. He didn’t even know him. I don’t think he’s smart enough to pull off a murder anyway.”

  “He doesn’t have a violent side?”

  “Not that I’ve ever seen.”

  “What’s the nature of your relationship with Scooter?”

  “He follows me around like a lost puppy, and when I get tired of him hanging around, I send him out on errands.”

  “Errands?”

  “Yeah, you know…grocery shopping, getting my oil changed, errands.”

  “And he does them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I guess because he has a crush on me.”

  “Do you have an intimate relationship with Scooter?”

  “Are you kidding me? That’s just gross. No, I do not have an intimate relationship with Scooter,” she mocked the question.

  “Ever kissed him?”

  “Nope.”

  “Does he know that he doesn’t have a chance with you? Romantically?”

  “I’ve told him, but I don’t think he gets it,” Brenda shrugged.

  “So you use his affections to get your errands done?”

  “It makes him happy and makes my life easier, so yeah, whatever.”

  “So you manipulate him like you did Buster.”

  “No, it’s a totally different thing.”

  “What about Heath?” Chas switched subjects.

  “What about Heath?” a spark of anger flashed in her eyes.

  “Do you manipulate him too?”

  “I don’t have to. He loves me and wants to make me happy.”

  “Sound like a common theme with the men in your life,” Chas commented.

  “What do you mean by that?” her eyes narrowed.

  “Do you think Heath killed Buster?” the detective ignored her question.

  “Pshh, no. He doesn’t have the stones,” she snickered.

  “You don’t respect his masculinity?” Chas clarified.

  “Oh, his masculinity is just fine,” her voice dripped with innuendo, which Chas ignored.

  “So, you’re the driving force in your relationship with Heath?”

  “I’m the driving force in all of my relationships and the men in my life seem to like that about me,” she smiled. “Look, my stomach is growling, can we wrap this up?”

  “One last question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Who do you think killed Buster?”

  “If I was the one doing the investigating, I’d be taking a hard look at that greedy daughter of his. She didn’t want him to give me anything in the divorce,” Brenda’s tone was bitter.

  “Why do you suppose that was?”

  “She was jealous of me from the word go because I’m just a bit older than her and still have my figure and looks. She wasn’t Daddy’s Girl anymore because I was.”

  “I see. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Brogan. Don’t entertain any thoughts about leaving town any time soon,” Chas said lightly.

  “Why on earth would I do that, Detective?” Brenda batted her eyes innocently. “Have a nice day.”

  She turned away and sauntered toward her car, leaving Chas standing in the parking lot.

  **

  The detective waited until she had driven away, giving him a jaunty wave as she passed by, and headed inside. Thankful that the ER was basically empty, with the exception of a teenager sitting with his mom and holding an icepack to his elbow, Chas approached the desk nurse and flashed his badge.

  “Hello, Detective,” the nurse smiled at him. “How can I help you today?”

  “Is there a supervisor around that I can speak with?”

  “Sure,” she nodded. “Let me get someone up here for you,” she reached for the phone and spoke into it, then a sort of realization dawned in her eyes. “There hasn’t been an “incident” has there?” she whispered, her eyes darting all around the emergency room.

  “You mean like a threat or something? No, I just need to talk to a supervisor,” Chas reassured her.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” she went limp with relief and spoke into the phone again. “Marvin Jostens will be right up,” she told Chas when she hung up.

  “Thank you.”

  Chas stood by the desk to wait, rather than sitting in the waiting room. He tried not to touch anything in hospitals and that policy had kept him healthy for years.

  “Detective?” Marvin Jostens came out and extended his hand. Chas shook it, making a mental note to hit the hand sanitizer on his way out.

  “Is there somewhere that we can go to speak privately?” Chas asked.

  “Sure, let’s go to my office,” Marvin invited, leading the way through sets of locked doors. “Now, what can I do for you?” he asked, once they were seated.

  “Are you acquainted with Brenda Brogan?”

  “Yes, I am. She just left here, in fact.”

  “I know, I spoke with her in the parking lot. I’m here investigating her husband’s murder, and I’m hoping there may be some things that you can help me clear up.”

  “I’ll help in any way that I can,” Marvin nodded. “Such a shame. Buster was a great guy. I bought my living room furniture from him, and he really cared about his work and his integrity.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard. On the day of his murder, last Wednesday, can you tell me what time Brenda came into work?”

  “Yeah, absolutely. We keep logs where we have to sign in and out, so that we’ll know who’s on the floor at any given time. Let me run out and get that really quickly,” Marvin volunteered.

  “I’d appreciate it,” Chas nodded.

  Marvin came back moments later, carrying a photocopied page from the log book. “Here you go,” he handed Chas the sheet. “Looks like she came in around four-forty-five.”

  “Is there any chance that someone else could’ve signed her in?”

  “Not without losing their job, but we can double-check easily enough. We have video cameras in the nurse’s station and the check in book is in full view of one of the cameras.”

  “Do you have access to that footage?”

  “Yep, it’s digital, so I can pull it up on my computer,” Marvin moved his mouse and started tapping away. “So, let’s see…Wednesday…let’s back it up to four-forty-five, and…yep, there she is, signing in,” he turned his screen around to show Chas, pointing out the time and date stamp on the clear image of Brenda Brogan signing in.

  “Can you screenshot that for me and email it?” Chas asked.

  “Definitely, I’ll just need your email address.”

  Chas handed him his business card, which had his email address on it, and Marvin sent the shot immediately.

  “Were you here that day?”

  “I sure was. I practically live here,” Marvin chuckled.

  “Do you remember what Brenda’s behavior was like when she came in? Was she acting normally?”

  “No. No, sir, she wasn’t. I remember thinking about it later, when I heard about Buster. She came in and was like, talking loudly and laughing hysterically, then seeming like she was about to cry. She was just…off, you know, and I remember wondering if maybe it had something to do with her divorce, because she’s usually not that emotional at work.”

  “Did anyone else notice her strange behavior?”

  “I knew there were a couple of nurses talking about it in front of one of the patient rooms, but we were so busy that I didn’t even have time to pay attention to that.”

  “So, was it pure chance that she got called in to work, just because there were so many emergencies?”

  “No, she was on the list.”

  “On the list?”

  “Yes, we have a list where the nurses can sign up to be called first if extra shifts become available. She was first on the list for the Wednesday five o’clock shift.”

  “How unusual is it for a Wednesday five o’clock shift to be that busy?” Chas asked.

  “Not unusual at all. It’s strange, but midweek, right around four or five o’clock is always our busiest time of the whole week, other than Saturday, right around two a.m.”

  “So, someone who signs up for that five o’clock shift on Wednesday pretty much knows that they’re going to get called in to work?”

  “It’s almost a guarantee. I figured that she wanted the extra hours so that she could pay her divorce attorney or something,” Marvin admitted.

  “Did she stay for the entire shift?”

  “No. Once the initial rush was over, I let her go home. Must’ve been around eight o’clock.”

  “Can you verify that time on the sign-out log and email me that info?”

  “You got it, Detective,” Marvin nodded.

  “Marvin, do you think that it’s possible that Brenda murdered her husband?” Chas asked bluntly.

  Marvin thought for a moment, then sighed. “You know, I don’t know her that well, but I believe it’s possible, and I’ve heard conversations and whispers around here that tell me other people think it’s possible too.”

  “Have you asked her about it?”

  “No. It’s not my business. If the police haven’t accused her, why in the world would I?”

  “You wouldn’t,” Chas understood. “Thank you for your cooperation. If I have any further questions, I’ll be in touch.”

  “Anytime, Detective,” Marvin stood and shook his hand again.

  At the hospital’s exit was an automated hand sanitizer dispenser. Chas stuck his hands beneath the antiseptic foam. Twice.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  * * *

  “What’s your favorite candle scent, Kumar?” Joyce Rutledge called out from the bookstore side of the adjacent shops.

  “I’m really quite impressed with the Frosted Vanilla Cupcake scent. It makes me hungry,” Kumar looked up from the article that he was highlighting, and smiled. There was a lull this afternoon, so he was catching up on some research.

  “Are you hungry now?” she asked in a singsong voice.

  “Now that you mention it, I believe I am.”

  “I have something delicious over here,” she crooked her finger, beckoning him. “Come keep me company while I have a decadent snack. If you’re nice, I might share,” she teased.

  “Well, if I must,” he closed his laptop and came around the counter, headed for the bookstore side.

  When he sat down across from her on the couch in the reading area, she placed a small paper plate with a fudgy, moist, frosted brownie on the coffee table in front of him.

  “Want some coffee to wash that down?” she asked, putting another brownie on her side of the table.

  “I don’t drink coffee, but…what is that?” he asked, pointing at the plate.

  “Are you seriously going to tell me you’ve never had a brownie?” Joyce stared at him. “How long have you been in this country?”

  “Four years.”

  “And you’ve never had a brownie?” she blinked.

  “I don’t usually eat dessert,” he shrugged.

  “And you don’t drink coffee. You don’t smoke, you don’t drink beer or liquor…honey, what exactly do you do for fun?”

  “I like movies…and dancing…and reading novels.”

  “Now we’re talking,” she nodded her approval. “There’s a new movie at the Art Theatre tonight if you like Indie films. I’m going, and I’ll happily put up with you if you’d like to come along,” Joyce teased.

  “I would like that very much,” Kumar nodded.

  “Please tell me that you eat popcorn,” her look was stern.

  “Oh, I love popcorn,” he exclaimed.

  “Perfect,” Joyce nodded. “I’ll get the tickets and you can buy the popcorn,” she suggested.

  “Oh no, I will get the tickets as well, it is my pleasure,” Kumar offered.

  “Kumar, you know I’m a strong, independent woman, right?” Joyce cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “Yes, I am quite aware of that,” he smiled.

  “And you know that if you buy both movie tickets and popcorn, it’s considered a date, right?” she warned him.

  Kumar blushed a bit beneath his caramel-colored skin. “I would be honored to take you on a date, Joyce.”

  “Honored? Wow,” Joyce grinned. “Kumar, I like your style, honey,” she chuckled.

  “Why thank you,” he blushed again. “I think you’re quite a lovely person as well.”

  “You know what else is awesome about me?” Joyce asked.

  “What is that?”

  “My baking skills. Are you going to try that brownie?” she looked down at the plate.

  “Must I?” he eyed it with trepidation.

  “Well, don’t make it sound like a traumatic event,” she laughed. “Just try a little bite. I want to see what you think.”

  “Certainly, I’ll try it since you would like me to do so,” he nodded, picking up the plate. “But where is the fork?”

  “You don’t need a fork for brownies. You just pick them up.”

  Taking her own plate, she picked up her brownie and took a bite. “See,” she said, holding her hand in front of her mouth while she chewed. “Just like that.”

  “Okay,” Kumar looked uncertain, but delicately picked up his brownie and took a bite.

  “Well?” Joyce prompted, watching him.

  He chewed thoroughly and swallowed before replying. “I like the fact that it tastes like one of Miss Echo’s candles smells, but I somehow feel like I should be drinking a large glass of water right now.”

  “Well, there’s a ringing endorsement,” Joyce rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, please do not feel badly. It’s not a commentary on your baking, but merely an acknowledgment that I’m not accustomed to foods with that much sugar in them,” he apologized.

  Joyce laughed. “Kumar, you are probably the politest guy I’ve ever met. Are you always like this?”

  “Perhaps your good company inspires my manners,” he gazed at her, his smile blooming in the chocolate pools of his eyes.

  Joyce took in a breath. “You are just plain dangerous,” she murmured, thrilled.

  “Oh no, I can assure you, I am quite safe and honorable,” he protested earnestly.

  “We’ll just see how long that lasts,” she chuckled.

  A customer came in the candle shop just then, interrupting their banter, and Kumar jumped up to go greet them. Joyce picked up both plates of brownies and took them to her spot behind the register.

  “No sense letting them go to waste,” she commented to herself, taking a large bite.