Blackmoore Sisters 01-Dead Wrong (6 page)

“We got an anonymous tip that someone saw your client bury a crucial piece of evidence here.”

“What are you talking about?” Delphine turned to Morgan. “Do you know anything about this?”

Morgan shook her head.

Fiona noticed the perplexed look on Morgan’s face. Either she’d taken acting lessons, or she really did know nothing about the scarf.

“Let me see the warrant.” Delphine stuck her hand out toward Overton.

“Listen Missy, I don’t need a warrant. I got a tip.”
 

“You most certainly do need one,” Delphine countered. “And I suggest you either produce one or get off my client’s property unless you want a lawsuit. And don’t call me Missy!”

Fiona noticed Jake carefully putting the dirt back, taking care not to disturb Morgan’s tender seedlings. He looked up and she felt a jolt go through her when their eyes met.
 

Overton looked down at Delphine then glared over at Morgan. “If we have to take time to get a warrant, that will give your client a chance to move the evidence.”
 

“Well, you should have thought of that before and gone through the proper channels.” Delphine spit back at him. “Now move it.”

Overton nodded to Jake and the other officer who was leaning on his shovel listening to the exchange.

“Let’s pack it up boys, we’ll come back later. I know the evidence is here.” He stared at Morgan as he said the words then started off toward the front of the house. Fiona shrank back when he brushed past her.

Delphine turned to Fiona. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

Fiona’s stomach flipped.
Should she tell her?
Her first instinct was to keep quiet. If she let Delphine know she’d found the scarf, she’d probably make her give it up to the police, and Fiona had a sneaking suspicion the police were planning to use that scarf to incriminate Morgan.

“No idea,” she said, mentally crossing her fingers.

“Let me know if he comes here again without a warrant.”

“Okay, thanks for getting here so fast.” Fiona had called the lawyer as soon as she’d hung up with Jolene. Delphine must have had to break some speeding records to get there when she did.

“All in a day’s work,” Delphine said, nodding to Fiona, then turning and trotting off toward her car.

Fiona could see Jolene almost in tears over by the house.

“I didn’t know the right thing to do,” she was saying to Morgan.

“You called us right away, that was the right thing,” Morgan assured her, then ushered her into the house by the kitchen door.

Fiona started over toward the door herself, noticing that Jake was still in the garden, apparently trying to put it back the way he found it.

She stomped over, wanting him off the property along with the other members of the police.

“You can go now too, we’ll take care of this.” She stood with her hands on her hips.

Jake glanced around then leaned toward her. “Listen, I think something funny is going on. This tip … it just didn’t seem right.”

Fiona stepped back, narrowing her eyes.
Was this some sort of trick?

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a certain procedure, but this one … it just seemed to come out of thin air.”

He had stepped even closer now so that he towered over her. She could smell the spicy scent of his aftershave. His gray eyes mesmerized her and she stepped closer. He put his hand on her arm, causing a cascade of tingles to flutter in her lower belly. He leaned closer toward her.

“You better warn Morgan to be on her guard. Something isn’t right here.”

Fiona blinked at his warning. Then he let her arm go abruptly, turned and walked toward the front of the house.

She stared after him, noticing how his backside filled out his uniform just perfectly. Then she shook herself.
 

What was she thinking?

Even though Jake’s warning seemed sincere, she still didn’t think she could trust him. His concern for Morgan made her feel a little funny. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear it was jealousy. Laughing at herself, she turned toward the kitchen door.
 

That was ridiculous … she didn’t give two figs about Jake Cooper. Why would she feel jealous if he had the hots for Morgan?

Fiona came in the kitchen door just as Celeste came in the front door.

“We’re in here!” Morgan called out into the front hallway.

Celeste came rushing in, her face flushed. “What happened, I heard the police were here?”

Morgan got up to make tea while Fiona told Celeste about the police digging in the garden. She paced the room, hands flying in the air, anger rising inside her as she relayed the events.

When she was done, Morgan handed her a cup of tea.
 

“What’s this? I don’t drink that stuff, I drink coffee.” Fiona pushed the cup away.

“Right now you need something calming, not caffeine to ramp you up more, just sit and drink it.” Morgan pushed the cup into her hands and pulled out a chair which Fiona obediently sat in.

She took a sip and almost spit it out. “Blech. This tastes like grass, what’s in here?”

“Oh a little chamomile and some other herbs to relax you. Drink,” Morgan commanded, leaning against the kitchen counter on the other side of the bar.

Fiona wrinkled her nose, but took another sip. Okay, maybe it wasn’t so bad. And she did feel calmer already.

“I don’t think I understand. What did they think was in the garden?” Celeste asked.

“I’m not sure, some sort of evidence,” Morgan answered. “Fi, do you know what that was all about?”

Fiona’s heart tightened in her chest. She had to come clean with her sisters.

“Well, actually I do,” she said. Setting down her cup, she looked at Morgan, her stomach fluttering. She hoped her sister wouldn’t be mad that she didn’t come to her right away.

“Well?” Morgan lifted her shoulders, “What is it?”

“There
was
some evidence in the garden, except I found it before they did.”

Celeste gasped, “What was it?”

“Prudence Littlefield’s scarf. The one she was wearing the day she was killed.”

Morgan, Celeste and Jolene stared at her in silence.

“What are you talking about?” Morgan asked.

“This morning, I was the first one up. Belladonna wanted to go out, so I let her out the door here, next to the garden. It was a beautiful morning and I went out for a breath of fresh air. That’s when I found the scarf. It was buried on the edge of the garden, near the tomato seedlings.”

“Buried? Then how did you find it?” Jolene asked.

“Well, it actually wasn’t me who found it. It was Belladonna. She led me right to it.”

Everyone turned to look at Belladonna who lay sleeping on the wide windowsill at the back of the kitchen. She turned her head toward them, opened one sleepy blue eye, then closed it and went back to sleep.

“She was digging in the garden and dug it right up,” Fiona added.

Morgan looked away from the cat and Fiona flinched at the anger she saw in her sister’s eyes.
 

“So, you had the scarf and didn’t even tell me? We were at work together all morning and you never mentioned it. Why?”

Fiona’s heart squeezed. She didn’t want Morgan to know she had doubted her.
 

“I didn’t really get a chance,” she said, mostly telling the truth. “There was someone in the shop when I got there with the coffee and then Agatha came in, then we got involved in talking about how to find the killer and then Jolene called.”

Morgan nodded, looking away. “Where is it now?”

“I hid it in my room,” Fiona said, picturing the scarf tucked neatly in her secret hiding place under a floor board in the corner.

“Shouldn’t we bring it to the police?” Celeste asked.

“No!” Fiona, Morgan, and Jolene all shouted at once.

“They’ll probably just use it against Morgan,” Fiona said. “Someone clearly planted the scarf there. It could be someone with ties to the police, or maybe it isn’t, but one thing is clear … someone is out to frame Morgan.

Morgan sighed. “Okay, well since we are all here, let’s use this time for something productive. Celeste, did you find anything out at the yoga studio?”

“I talked to a few people that were in the coffee shop. Pretty much everyone thought it was funny—what you said to Prudence. Of course, no one thinks you killed her. But I didn’t hear any clues or anything.”

“I haven’t talked to everyone in my circle yet,” Jolene said, “But I did see something strange on Facebook.”

“Oh, what?” Morgan asked.

“Josh Gray made some strange posts that made it look like he was going to invest in something expensive … which was odd, since he doesn’t have any money.”

Fiona wrinkled her brow. “What would that have to do with Prudence’s murder?”

“Probably nothing; Josh is a thug, and he brags a lot. He might just be blowing steam, or maybe he did a big drug deal.” Jolene shrugged. “Probably nothing to do with the murder, but it was out of the ordinary.”

“Has anyone talked to Cal?” Fiona asked.

“I did,” Morgan said. “He hadn’t heard anything.”

Fiona chewed the inside of her cheek. She didn’t know where to start to try to figure out who the killer was. Then she remembered, they might not have to find the killer at all.

“Hey, what about the receipt from the coffee shop that morning, did you look in the envelope?”

Morgan’s eyebrows shot up. “No, I forgot all about that.” She spun around and grabbed the envelope from the counter behind her. Opening it, she dumped the contents on the island.

All four girls leaned over to examine the pile.
 

Chapstick, a five dollar bill, some change, a couple of business cards and her shoe laces. No receipt.

“It’s not there,” Morgan said, her face crumbling.

“Are you sure you even had one?” Fiona asked. “I usually just toss mine in the barrel.”

“I’m pretty sure. Usually I just shove them in my pocket with the change if I have to juggle two cups like I did that morning. But I can’t be certain.”

The four girls bent down to examine the pile again and then looked up at each other.
 

Fiona noticed the grim look on Morgan’s face as she said, “If I did have that receipt, then someone at the police station took it. I have to admit, it really does look like someone is trying to frame me for killing Prudence.”

Celeste’s brow knit together. “It does seem that way, but why?”

“I don’t know,” Morgan said. “But these latest developments call for some drastic action and I think I know just the person to help us.”

Jake stared at the Littlefield file on his desk. He’d been flipping through it for an hour looking for inconsistencies, but nothing stuck out at him.

Why was Overton so steamed about not finding that scarf?

Back in Boston, Jake had followed up on his share of anonymous tips. Most of them turned out to be a dead end. Surely, Overton knew this? It just didn’t make sense that he would be so mad at not finding the
supposed
murder weapon. Unless he
knew
without a reasonable doubt that it would be there.
 

And how could he know that?
 

The only way Jake could figure he would know for sure was if it had been planted on his orders … or by someone he trusted explicitly.

What he couldn’t figure out was why. It didn’t make any sense to frame Morgan for Prudence’s death. He supposed it could just be convenient. Knowing about the argument they’d had in the coffee shop, the killer could have used the newt to cast suspicion on Morgan. Maybe they took the scarf for added insurance.
 

But then, that begged the question, why would someone kill Prudence?
 

Jake knew the logical thing would be to find out who stood to benefit from her murder, but Overton wasn’t doing that, he seemed content to pin it on Morgan.

Jake was sure there was something else going on, and he’d be willing to bet that Overton was right in the middle of it.

He let out a sigh and snapped the file closed. All the file really told him was that Littlefield had been strangled and the murder weapon, presumed to be this scarf Overton was so hot to dig up, was not found at the scene. … which would lead one to believe the murderer had it. But why would the murderer take it?

His thoughts turned to the Blackmoore girls. He felt certain the redhead, Fiona, was going to be even more determined to find the real killer now. He could hardly blame her. His heart clenched when he thought of how alone the girls must feel. To them, it must seem like everyone is against them.

But they wouldn’t be alone, because Jake had already made up his mind to help find the real killer and it had nothing to do with the silky way Fiona’s skin felt under his hand, or the way he couldn’t get the smell of her strawberry shampoo out of his mind. It was ingrained in him to find the truth, to serve justice. That was why he had become a cop. And he’d been a pretty good detective in Boston … before the accident.