1 Depth of Field (12 page)

Chapter Twelve

I woke up in my own bed. My cell phone lying on the nightstand said one in the morning. So why was I smelling Italian? Talia had her habits, but she didn’t cook at this time of night. No, this scent was closer, filling my apartment with an aroma that made my empty stomach growl.

“Garlic too,” I murmured as I left my room barefoot and fully clothed. I scrubbed a hand over my eyes and yawned as I stood watching a man cooking on my stove.
“Twilight Zone.”

Spencer turned, chuckling. “I heard that. This isn’t the
Twilight Zone
just because I’m cooking.”

I didn’t bother correcting him. The strangeness had nothing to do with him cooking and everything to do with me, Makayla Rose, having a man in my kitchen. Oh, I’d dated before, but…well, you get the picture.

“Why are you in my apartment at one in the morning?” I opened the closet door and found a folding chair to sit in the kitchen doorway. “Cooking.”

He eyeballed me and tasted his sauce. An expert flick of the wrist and in went two types of spices, held between the fingers of one hand. Interesting.

“Why don’t you have a table?” he countered.

“I asked first.”

Amusement lit his gaze. “I was watching over you to make sure you’re okay. In all honesty, I thought you would wake up before now. I got hungry while I waited, so I grabbed a few things to make a snack.”

I stood up and walked over to the stove. In one pot bubbled a thick, rich spaghetti sauce. In another noodles boiled. Meatballs waited for the sauce in another pan, and on the table sat a loaf of garlic bread ready to pop into the oven. “This is a snack?”

He shrugged. “My uncle is a chef in an Italian restaurant. He taught me a few things. The truth is, all I know how to make well is Italian dishes.”

“I’m not complaining,” I said as my belly grumbled again. “I can’t remember when I ate last, but I definitely skipped dinner. If you’re sharing, I’m eating.”

“Good.” He continued preparations for our meal. “Then you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to.”

“Who me?” I tried to look innocent and was sure I failed. Although I baited him, the horror of the night’s events came back to me. Only with teasing did I not give in to my fear and the shaking.

When the sauce was where he wanted it, Spencer added the meatballs and the two simmered together while the bread heated in the oven. To keep from gnawing on my arm, I made sweet tea in a glass pitcher I had found in one of the town’s shops. Soon, we sat down in the living room, each balancing a plate piled high with spaghetti and bread.

“I can’t eat all of this,” I said.

“You said you weren’t complaining.”

“That wasn’t a complaint.” I gave his food a taste and fell in love. “Mm, if word gets out you can cook like this, sheriff, you’ll find every woman in the county chasing after you.”

“Maybe you should be my cover.”

He said it so fast and unceremoniously, I had no time to react let alone consider what he implied. Before I could respond, he had moved on.

“I can tell you’re being brave, but I’ve seen people take it much harder than you are when dealing with murder.”

I choked on my spaghetti. Wiping a paper towel across my mouth, I thought about what he’d said. “Like how I ran out into traffic?”

He frowned at me, and I rotated my shoulders, working out the tension.

“You already know I’ve been there.” He remained silent, so I continued. “Diana—my sister—and I loved the same man from our college days. Colin seemed to be everything I wanted in a husband. Handsome, fun, confident, you name it, and he was majoring in pre-law.”

At the mention of law, a muscle spasmed in Spencer’s jaw, but he didn’t interrupt.

“Diana was everything I’m not. She was the more vivacious one. I guess the best way I can phrase it is, while I was photographing life, she was living it. He chose her. I still loved him so much.”

I curled my hands together in my lap, feeling like a child, ashamed of what I felt in the past. “After a while, I just wanted to bask in his sunshine, just to see him smile and have him say hello to me. I dreaded them getting married, but I was there to support them both. I let myself be satisfied with being his friend and having his attention sometimes, rather than snuffing out my feelings.”

Spencer laid his fork down and reached for one of my hands. I tried to pull away from him, but he drew me from my side of the couch to his, and I settled into the spot beneath his arm, laying my head on his shoulder.

“Did you ever talk to your sister about it?”

“No.” My vision blurred, and I blinked it clear. “She knew, early on when we laughed together like school girls over him. That time…”

He stroked my cheek. His gentleness stirred my emotions all the more, but now that I had confessed some of my dirty secret, I wanted to share it all.

“That time was so good between us despite my secret. I didn’t want anything to get in the way, especially with us being so close. Diana was so good too. Most of the time when I saw them they were together. We had lunch or dinner. Sometimes she and I shopped alone. She seemed happy, and infrequently I was jealous.”

The last of that sentence slipped out in a rush, and I groaned, hating myself. Once again, Spencer didn’t judge me, or he had nothing to say. I peered up into his face, but the cop was used to hiding how he felt.

I licked my lips. “One day Colin invited me out to coffee—alone. I should have said no. I tell myself now that coffee and nothing else was what I expected, all it would be.”

“But you don’t know?”

I thought I heard a change in his tone, but when I looked into his face, he remained expressionless.

“No, I don’t know.”

“You didn’t sleep with him?”

“I said no, Spencer.” I sat up and moved away from him. He let me go. I was beginning to think he didn’t believe me. “Why should you take my word for it? We haven’t known each other long.”

Spencer set his plate on the table and linked his hands together as he rested elbows on his knees. “I’m not judging you, Makayla.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “Aren’t you?”

“The choices you made are yours, and you know what you were thinking.”

“That’s right,” I snapped. “I spent two hours talking to my sister’s husband while she lay dying!”

The dam broke and flooded my face. I shook harder than I had earlier when I was attacked. Spencer dragged me to him, but I gave him a shove. He crushed my hands and arms between us and engulfed me in his embrace. I had no choice but to lay my head on his shoulder and cry it out. This wasn’t the first time, or the second, or the hundredth. I had wept for months over my sister and my own actions. I had blamed myself and even been forced into therapy.

“Feels like it’s starting all over,” I sobbed.

“No,” he insisted, “it’s not. This time you have me.”

I pulled back, but he tightened his hold, and I relaxed against him. Breathing in his scent calmed me a little. Either because of his personality or because of his own past experiences, Spencer felt strongly against what I had done. By his declaration, he was man enough to leave my decision where it belonged—in the past.

When I settled down, he let me go, and I straightened to wipe my nose. Heat suffused my cheeks as I thought about crying to this man, a virtual stranger, and worse, him telling me he was here for me. I wasn’t so innocent as I was then to believe he meant something more serious than friend or as a concerned human being. Gosh, I was pathetic.

As I wiped away the vestiges of my tears, I completed my story. “He had hired someone to kill her. You see, Diana and I inherited some money from our great-aunt Mae. No, don’t look so worried. It wasn’t a fortune. Then again…”

He frowned, and I named the sum. Not because I had to but because I wanted it out of the way. Spencer had already lived with a woman who had money, and I didn’t want to start off pretending my struggle wasn’t self-imposed.

“I’m not rich by any means, and after Colin murdered my sister, I refused to touch the money. I put my half into retirement and hers I gave away to charity, every cent.”

Spencer nodded. “Did you learn his motives, why he would go to such extremes for the money? After all, he was on a pretty good path, obviously intelligent.”

“Does it matter?” I knew I’d been short, but Colin had betrayed my sister and me in the worst way a human being could be betrayed. I still felt the pain and loss of my sister who was my best friend. My part in it, even if I didn’t know I was involved would stick with me the rest of my life. “After the police found a connection between Colin and the man he hired, they turned to me. He let them accuse me of plotting with him to have my sister killed. I wanted to grieve over Diana, but I was kept from it. Not until they had firm evidence against him that would stand up in court did Colin admit that I had nothing to do with the plot.”

I sniffed, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Makayla, do you still love him?”

I gaped at Spencer. “My feelings for him died the day that my sister did.”

Spencer reached out to me and touched my hand on my lap. I looked at his, big and rough, and turned my palm over to link my fingers between his. He leaned forward, and I met him half way. Our lips touched, a featherlight kiss, and I shied away. His other hand moved to my nape and drew me closer. Another kiss and another. Then he drew back to look into my eyes.

“It’s not your fault.”

I smiled. “You sound like you mean that.”

“You made a bad decision, but you aren’t a bad person. If Diana had lived she would have forgiven your feelings. In fact, it sounds like she understood and accepted them. She shared someone she thought was worthy of the both of you.”

“Hm, that’s a nice way to think of it.”

He ran a thumb over my lips, and I drew in a shuddering breath. “Then think of it like that. Now, that’s as sensitive as I can get at almost three o’clock in the morning.”

I chuckled and then followed him to the door. “Are you leaving? It’s late. You can stay if you want.”

He hesitated. We hadn’t had our first date yet. Technically, our eating spaghetti together constituted the first. “I don’t want you to feel—”

I touched his arm, and the muscles flexed beneath my fingers. “I
feel
like a woman who would like a man to stay the night. Nothing else.”

His eyes darkened with interest. “Then I will.”

Chapter Thirteen

I woke up to bright sunlight and the scent of a man. Well, the
sound
of a man too. Spencer snored. Not heavy and loud like a lumberjack sawing a tree trunk. His was softer but definitely snoring. A bare arm thrown over his eyes, lots of armpit hair all long and scraggly as he lay on his back. I stared, unable to help myself. Too much time had passed since I’d had a man in my bed, and I didn’t regret this time for an instant. Spencer was a good and considerate lover. We had both enjoyed ourselves. At this point, he didn’t need to love me, and I didn’t need to love him for the kind of fun we had shared.

After I’d had my fill of watching him sleep, I rolled to the edge of the bed then yelped when his arm snaked out and he caught my wrist. “Where are you going?”

“What are you doing?” I shot back. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was until I felt someone staring a hole in my forehead.”

“You were dreaming. Let go.”

The entire time he was speaking, he’d kept his eyes closed. Now he opened them and peered at me. I felt like he read my mind, sorting through my thoughts to judge my emotional state.

“Are you okay?” he asked, confirming my assumption.

“I’m fine. I’m just getting up. Morning breath and all. This isn’t the movies.”

He narrowed his eyes, but I caught a flash of amusement. Then he grinned, broad and wide. “I’ve never minded morning breath. Come here.”

I screamed when he jerked me down to his chest and trapped me there. He raised his head to kiss me, and I slapped a palm over his mouth. “No way!”

He found the spot to tickle me weak on the first try. My hand fell away as I wiggled, and he claimed my lips, but the kiss was more of a peck. “There I proved my point.”

I sat up and moved away from the bed, searching for something to put on. “I don’t know what point you were making, so I think you failed.”

He grunted. “I want to take you to breakfast.”

I paused in the act of sliding a T-shirt over my head. “Didn’t we just eat a few hours ago?” The bedside clock read eight fifteen.

“We didn’t discuss the case. You need to explain that voicemail you left me and compare notes if you’ve learned anything that might help my investigation.”

I watched as he rose from the bed. He made no move to put his clothes on but rather walked around the bed and headed for the bathroom. In a few moments, my shower came on. To be honest, I liked the sound of his admitting I might be of help to the investigation.

“Makayla,” he barked from the bathroom. “Are you coming?”

This time it was my turn to grin. I threw the T-shirt on the bed and joined Spencer in the shower. Maybe we’d have a little more time before breakfast and serious matters interfered.

* * * *

Spencer sat down to a huge breakfast of pancakes, bacon, sausage, and eggs, along with a cup of coffee. I blinked at him, wondering how he could be hungry for so much, so early. My donuts and coffee were my usual, and I missed them. They were the perfect weight and sweetness for my stomach before noon.

Glancing around the restaurant a half-mile in the opposite direction of The Donut Hole and one street over, I took in the knowing glances tossed our way from the other patrons in the restaurant. I had been here only once or twice, but I was sure most of the people knew who the sheriff was if not me. Feeling like my love life was on display and not preferring it, I fiddled with my blueberry muffin. Low murmurs surrounded us, speculations flying, and there the sheriff sat shoveling forkfuls of food into his gullet. Somehow he didn’t look any less handsome eating so fast. Maybe it was his habit from having to rush off to get to work.

“If you keep tearing at that muffin, you’ll have nothing left,” he said, and I looked down at my plate. My breakfast ruined, I pushed it aside to pull my coffee closer.

“The coffee here is tons better than Frank’s.”

“It is.” He stirred in creamer and regular sugar to his coffee. Then when I poured myself another cup, he started to add sugar substitute to it. I covered it with my hand, frowning. He blinked. “Uh, sorry. Force of habit.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, and he explained.

“She liked me to make her coffee for her on the rare occasions we ate together.”

I clenched my jaw. Honestly, I didn’t want to talk about another woman even if I knew my feelings for Spencer weren’t warmer than a lover’s would be. Inside, I held my emotions in tight rein. I was a woman after all. However, I had shared my darkest, most shameful secret with him, and it had involved another man. The least I could do was listen to his story.

“Want to talk about it?” I made sure to mask any selfish reservations. He gazed at me in complete comprehension, and I found myself annoyed. Spencer Norwood should not be able to see into my head so easily.

“Not right now.”

I deflated. “Well really!”

He smiled and popped a last piece of sausage into his mouth. When he had done chewing, he wiped his mouth and fingers then pushed his plate away. “I want to talk about your phone call, Makayla. Can you tell me about it?”

I knew “can you” meant tell me now and forget the sob stories of the past. Sighing, I told him all I had learned from my time with David. “So, at Alvin’s request, David made twelve pieces of jewelry. Did you find any on him?”

Spencer rubbed a hand over his chin. “No, and I’ll have to ask his wife if he gave her any new jewelry recently.”

I winced. “If not, she won’t like it.”

Spencer brushed this aside. “I need to know. We have to track down that jewelry. If we can, we might know his movements better. That brings me to a possibility the killer worried that one of the pieces showed up on a photograph you took.”

“That’s what I thought.” I was impressed with myself that I might have a real investigator’s mind, or it could be that the killer’s motive was logical. I went with the first assumption—my skill.

Across the room, I noticed Edna walk out from the employees’ only section of the restaurant. Edna worked here? I hadn’t known that. The elderly lady held a small six by six inch cardboard box in her hands. She handed it to Talia, who cackled with glee when she received it. I frowned at them both, and Edna caught me looking. She smiled and waved. I nodded and offered my own smile. When Talia turned and spotted me, she glared, stuck the box under one arm, and vacated the restaurant, a lime green neck scarf with long ragged tassels flying out behind her. I glanced back at Edna for some type of explanation. Edna eyed me and then the sheriff, clapped her hands together in a show of celebration and disappeared again into the kitchen.

“I’m not convinced of the jewelry angle,” Spencer said, recapturing my attention. He had obviously been reasoning over what I had shared the entire time. “Before the files were erased, did you find any pictures with women in jewelry?”

“No, none. I mean nothing distinctive.” I sighed.

He stared off into the distance. “We can go over the ones we have in evidence again, see if there’s anything we missed now that we have more of a clue as to what we’re looking for. I don’t want to focus on that alone though. It might lead to nothing.”

“Do you have other evidence?”

He hesitated as if reluctant to share or wondering just how much he
should
share. I wasn’t a cop, and we might have slept together, but that didn’t exactly prove my trustworthiness, I’m ashamed to say. I waited, trying to appear to be an open book. He shook his head like he knew what I was doing, which in my opinion meant it worked.

“Does it have to do with debt?” I prompted, and he started.

“Why do you say that?”

“Inna Brinlee. Do you know her?” At his nod, I continued. “She heard you were questioning her parents and the Trevors. Something about their debt.”

Spencer’s notebook appeared. I bit my bottom lip. He didn’t have to say. I knew my words prompted him to question Inna for himself to find out any more details she might know. I just hoped my blundering didn’t get her parents into trouble, but if they were guilty, then it was better that she find out for sure. Ignorance helped no one.

“There’s no doubt about it,” Spencer admitted. “John Brinlee is lying to me.”

My mouth fell open, and my chest constricted. I didn’t want to ask for details, but I had to. “You think John did it?”

“I don’t know.” He signaled for the waitress, and when she stopped by, he requested another pot of coffee. When we were alone, he continued. “The Brinlees have a mortgage just like a lot of other people in town, both on their home and their fitness center. The payments are behind.”

“But that’s no reason to kill the loan officer.”

“Not in and of itself,” he agreed.

“Then what’s so suspicious?”

“Alvin’s report to his boss was that the account is in good standing, and no negative rating was passed on to the credit companies.”

“Blackmail?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Gone wrong or taken too far. What I do know is Alvin didn’t push the Brinlees for payment on time, and he covered for them financially at least once.”

My mind whirled with the implications. I couldn’t wrap my head around the thought of Inna’s dad a murderer. Admittedly, I didn’t know him well, but he seemed more into making everyone happier and fitter. Perhaps he would do anything to keep being able to do what he loved and he had found out a secret about Alvin that helped him when money issues arose. Then what? Alvin got tired of covering for them when the membership at the gym didn’t increase or John’s ideas became too lofty?

“That’s where I was last night,” Spencer said, “when you called. They didn’t show up for their appointment to talk to me. I had to go find them, which I wasn’t too happy about.”

I looked at the stern expression. One didn’t keep Spencer Norwood waiting, I guessed.

“If I had known you were across the street getting your head cracked open…” His irritation was plain, and I winced in horror. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“It’s okay, but I’m glad you weren’t far.”

“The killer was desperate to keep his secret, risking coming to your shop when my car was obvious to anyone passing by on the other side of the street.”

Spencer ground his teeth, and I guessed his anger was more than about me getting hurt. His reputation had been sullied too. A citizen of Briney Creek had been attacked right under the sheriff’s nose.

“It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known,” I argued. “You were doing your job.”

“Don’t worry about me.” He smiled. “I appreciate the concern.
You
need to be careful.”

“Why? They got what they wanted didn’t they? All my files are gone.”

“Remember, I told you we can call the storage company. I’ll do it as soon as I get into the office. Here. Write down the name and any additional information I need to pass on to them.”

I eyed him. “Don’t you need a warrant or something?”

“Do you want me to get one?”

I sighed. “No, I don’t care. If they do have the files, I’d love them back, and there’s nothing even remotely interesting from my personal life there.”

He grinned. “Nothing naughty? I’m disappointed.”

I smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to see? Keep saying stuff like that, sheriff, and I will require a warrant.”

His face fell. What he suggested made me think of what I’d told him about Diana. My sister was the vibrant one, the wild one, if you will. I had been Ms. Safe, not shy, but not extremely outgoing either. You wouldn’t find me hiking Mr. Everest, or whatever mountains people who loved the rush sought after. When Diana died, it affected me hard, but my personality didn’t change. I didn’t become like her, taking life by the horns. I was still me—maybe a lot more cautious with my heart, but still me.

We got back to business. I asked, “Did the Brinlees have an excuse for not showing up?”

“They were busy with new customers,” he growled. “I threatened them with obstructing justice, but really I have nothing concrete on them. I can’t hold them at this time, and they both have alibis for the night of the murder. Home together, they claim. Seems like everyone has an alibi.”

I hesitated, but I couldn’t keep anyone out of the pool of investigation. “What about the Trevors? Inna was worried about them too because you called them in to question. I ran into them while they were leaving for the appointment with you.” I rang my hands together. “I really don’t want them to have had anything to do with the murder.”

“I don’t want anyone in town to be involved,” he said, “but that’s just not true.”

“Well, the Trevors are also having financial problems.”

“Right. I looked into it, but even if I didn’t, Frank let it be known far and wide with this blowup at the bank.”

I made a small sound of agreement. “I’d heard about that from Inna.”

“Frank Trevor visited the bank to ask for another loan on his shop. Alvin turned him down. He blew up, shouting that it wasn’t fair.”

I jumped on the choice of words as I’d done previously. “What wasn’t fair? That he couldn’t get a loan?”