Blackmoore Sisters 01-Dead Wrong (11 page)

Fiona handed it over. “I don’t know.”

Jake looked down at the ring. “I’m not sure but I think it might be some sort of jewelry people wear in a piercing.”

“Ewww.” Morgan dropped it, wiping her hands on her pants.

“Wait. That could be evidence.” Jake bent down to pick it up. “It’s too small for fingerprints, but maybe if we can find out who owns it, they might know something about the murder.”

Fiona took another look at it. “If it’s for a piercing, I bet Celeste knows more about it. I’ll ask her.”

She held out her hand palm up and Jake dropped the ring into it. She gave it one final look, and slid it into her front pocket.

“Oh crap, I’m late!” Morgan stared at the watch on her slim wrist.

“Late?” Fiona screwed up her face, looking at her sister.

“Yes, I have an important appointment.” She turned to Jake. “Jake, can you drop Fiona at the shop when you guys are done?”

Jake cocked an eyebrow at Morgan, then turned to Fiona. “Sure.”

“What? Wait a minute—“

But Fiona’s protests were cut off by Morgan who raised her hand. “Sorry, gotta run.” Fiona watched open-mouthed as her sister swooped up the cat and took off down the path.

Swiveling around to face Jake, Fiona realized he had the same “deer in the headlights” look on his face that she had on hers. The woods seemed oddly quiet. No birds chirping. No squirrels scurrying in the leaves.

Fiona suddenly became very aware that she was alone with Jake. She felt awkward and excited, like a schoolgirl on her first date. She shook her head to clear the thoughts. She was no schoolgirl, and this was no date.

Finally, Jake cleared his throat. “We should search more over here. I don’t know if that jewelry has anything to do with the murder but, if it does, there could be something more.”

Fiona nodded and resumed the task of scuffling through the leaves. After a while, the sun started to warm the woods to an unbearable heat. Her skin was slick with sweat and black flies buzzed around her head.
 

“I haven’t found anything else.” Jake straightened up, his slightly damp shirt clinging to him. Fiona tried not to stare as she swatted a swarm of black flies away from her face.

“Me either.”
 

Jake slapped the side of his neck where a black fly had bitten him. “These flies are getting nasty. How about we call it quits and get an ice cream?”

Fiona looked at him uncertainly. “Ice cream?”

“Yeah, you know that cold, sweet stuff. Come on, it will taste good … and I promise not to call you Red.”

Fiona laughed. “Okay, that sounds good, but I need to get to the shop by eleven.”

“No problem.”

Fiona’s stomach felt like butterflies had hatched inside it as she led the way down the path. She didn’t know if it was because she still didn’t trust Jake, or if the butterflies were caused by something else. He had certainly been working hard to help them find something this morning and he was risking his job to do it. Surely that meant that he was on their side?

Fiona savored the cold, creamy sweetness of the maple walnut ice cream on her tongue. She looked across the redwood picnic table at Jake who worked on his own cone — a double scoop of mint chocolate chip.
 

Watching his tongue deftly carve a trough in the side of the extra-large scoop, she felt her mouth water--and not for the ice cream, either. She jerked her eyes away and tried to distract herself with conversation.

“So, what did you do in Boston?”

Jake blotted the ice cream off his lips with a small napkin before he replied. “I was a detective.”

“Oh, things must seem awfully dull up here to you, then.”

Jake shrugged. “It’s not that bad. Things in Boston can be a lot more dangerous … as my partner found out.”

“Oh?” Fiona cocked an eyebrow at him.

Jake shifted his gaze. A dark cloud crept into his eyes as he looked out over the parking lot. “He was killed while we were working on a case.”

Fiona’s stomach dropped at the look of sadness on his face. She noticed a tic in his cheek before his face softened and he turned back to her.

“Do you like it here?” she asked, scraping a mound of ice cream into her mouth with her teeth.

“Sure, I like the small town atmosphere. The guys at the station are all nice. Except Overton. It’s more laid back here. Boston was hectic.”

He held his cone up and licked a few drips of ice cream that were racing toward his hand. “What about you?
 
You’ve lived here all your life, right?”

Fiona smiled. “Yep. And my parents, and their parents, and their parents. My ancestors were the first ones to build a house in this town.”

“You never wanted to live anywhere else?”
 

Fiona crunched into her cone. “No. I’ve never even thought about it. I love being on the ocean and, of course, my sisters are all here. The only time I’ve ever lived away was for a few months in New York when I got my gemologist license. I learned I’m not much of a city girl.”

Jake nodded, shoving the rest of his cone in his mouth then wiping the drips from his hands with a napkin.

Fiona daintily munched her cone down. “You don’t think Overton will be able to pin Prudence’s murder on Morgan, do you?”

Jake shrugged. “I don’t think so, but what I would really like to know is why he would even want to. Did Morgan piss him off somehow?”

“Not that I know of. He only came to town about four years ago, but he’s had it in for us ever since. My youngest sister, Jolene, got into a bit of trouble with the law in high school, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to make him hate us.”

“I guess we’ll just have to outsmart him.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard.” Fiona pushed the tip of the cone into her mouth and chewed.

“We do have another lead to follow up on, too: The necklace with the ‘P’.” Jake pressed his lips together and looked out toward the road. “We just need to figure out a way to find out who has it.”

“Or had it,” Fiona said snapping her fingers.

“What?”

“What would the killer want with it? Would they keep it?”

“Well some of them keep things as a souvenir, but that’s usually serial killers and I don’t think we are dealing with that here.”

“So they probably took it for the monetary value which means they would try to sell it, and it just so happens that one of my oldest friends owns a pawn shop in town.

Jake raised his eyebrows. “We should check that out.”

“We can talk to him tonight, if you want.” Fiona’s heart skipped in anticipation of his answer.

“Sounds good.” Jake looked at his watch. “We better go.” Then he narrowed his eyes at her and pointed to his mouth.

“Huh?” Fiona’s brows knit together. Her heart stopped when Jake reached over the table to wipe a smudge of ice cream from the corner of her mouth.

Her eyes widened in shock when he licked the ice cream off his thumb. “The maple walnut is good here. I’ll have to get that next time.” Then he stood and led the way to his Suburban.

Jake’s Suburban sat high off the ground, but Fiona’s long legs allowed her to swing herself
 
easily into the passenger side. She rolled down the window, preferring the feel, and smell, of the ocean breeze to air conditioning. The truck gave a smooth ride despite its dilapidated appearance and she liked the way the Suburban sat high on the road, even if it was a bit beat up inside. She was surprised to discover she felt a little sad when Jake pulled up in front of
Sticks and Stones
.

“Thanks for the ice cream.” She unbuckled her seat belt and grappled with the door handle. She pulled and tugged, shoved her shoulder against the door but it wouldn’t open.
 

“Sorry, that door sticks sometimes. Let me help.” Her heart rate kicked into overdrive as Jake leaned across her to push the handle. He was close, his chest almost touching hers. The smell of warm spice, salt and mint teased her nostrils.
 

He looked down at the handle, fiddled with it, then turned to look at her, his face mere inches from hers. She saw a spark of lust in his eyes and held her breath. His eyes locked on hers for a few seconds, then dropped to her lips.
Was he going to kiss her?
 
She was surprised to realize every nerve in her body wanted him to.

He took a deep breath and shoved the door open, pulling back to his side of the truck.

Fiona slid out, letting out her own breath in a whoosh. She shut the door, and turned to look back through the window. “See you tonight, then?”

“Yep. I also want to take a look at that scarf.” Jake ran a hand through his hair.

“Okay. You wanna come buy my house around six?
 
I’ll talk to Cal and make sure he’ll be open.”

“Great. See you then.” Jake turned the key in the ignition and Fiona walked up the path to the shop cursing her hormones … and her heart … for the way they were acting.
 

Her mind drifted back to what Morgan had said about how it had been a long time since the whole mess with Kevin. Maybe it
was
time to move on. Fiona looked back to see Jake staring after her, she gave a final wave then turned back up the path to the shop.

Fiona fidgeted at the front door, checking her watch and peering down the long gravel road.

“You don’t have to stand watch. He’ll get here when he gets here.” The voice made her jump. Morgan had snuck up behind her in the large foyer.

“I was just nervous about showing him the scarf.” Fiona cursed her pale coloring as she felt her cheeks grow warm.

Morgan let out a trill of laughter. “Right. I’m sure that’s it.”

“Oh, here he is.” Fiona opened the door and walked onto the porch watching Jake pull his truck to a stop and get out.

“Hi.” Jake’s long legs carried him up on the porch.
 

Morgan appeared in the doorway. “Hi, Jake.”

“Hey, Morgan. Did you guys talk to your pawn shop friend?”

“I called him, but he’s in Aruba with one of his many lady friends. Won’t be back ’til the day after tomorrow, but he said he’d be happy to talk to us then,” Fiona said then turned to Morgan. “I thought Cal might know if someone pawned Prudence’s necklace.”

Morgan nodded. “Good idea.”

“Can I see the scarf?” Jake lowered his voice at the last word and glanced over his shoulder.

“Sure, come on in.” Fiona opened the door, ushered Jake in and the three of them went up the wide front staircase and down the East hall to Fiona’s room.

Fiona noticed that Jake looked out of place amidst the Victorian floral wallpaper and bedding. For a second she considered redecorating, then pushed the thought aside. She’d laid the scarf out on the bed and the three of them stood there staring at it.

“I don’t see any blood or anything. Can fabric hold a fingerprint?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Jake lifted the scarf gently, then let it flutter back to the bed. “Are you sure she was wearing this?”

Morgan nodded. “She had it on in the cafe.”

“And I saw it on her when she was walking that morning.” Fiona said. “It’s pretty hard not to notice it.”

Jake looked out the window at the Atlantic Ocean. “So it must have been the killer … or the police that planted it. No one else would have had access to it, unless she went home, took it off, and then went out again.”
 

“I don’t think she’d have had time.”

“No, me either.”

“Well, apparently staring at the scarf isn’t going to give us any clues.” Jake turned to Fiona. “Did you ask your sister about that jewelry we found in the woods?”

“Not yet, she was meditating when we got home, but she’s probably done now.”

They started to leave the room, then Jake grabbed Fiona’s elbow sending tingles up and down her arm. “You should hide the scarf. Just in case something crazy happens and they get a search warrant.”

Fiona’s stomach clenched. “A search warrant? Could they do that?”

Jake shrugged. “You never know. Better to be safe than sorry.”

Fiona looked back at the scarf making a mental note to put it back under the floorboard after everyone was gone. She didn’t want to give away her hiding spot, it had been her secret place since she was a kid and no one knew about it—not even Morgan.

They went down the side stairs, heading toward the back of the house. Fiona peeked into the library where Celeste preferred to meditate and found it empty except for the shelves filled with antique leather-bound books.
 

“She’s probably in the kitchen,” she said continuing forward.

In the kitchen they found Celeste dressed in yoga pants and a stretchy top, running what looked like grass through the juicer into a small glass.

“Oh, hi,” Celeste smiled at them. “Want some?”
 

She held up the glass full of murky green goo and the three of them shook their heads.