Saving Scott (Kobo) (26 page)

When both
detectives left, he debated calling Ashley to alert her to Kovak’s impending
arrival. No, he shouldn’t. While it might be the neighborly thing to do, it
could pollute the investigation. His gut said she had nothing to do with this,
and he trusted his instincts. Ashley hadn’t sent up any red flags when he met
her, and that was while the brain above his neck had still been doing most of
his thinking.

He sucked in
a breath and forced himself to take an honest inventory of his feelings. Yes,
he was attracted to her. Yes, it seemed as if it could be going further. Yes,
he’d been fooled before, by women he thought cared about him, but were nothing
more than Badge Bunnies.

Looking at
the facts objectively, and rethinking Ashley’s body language and emotional
reactions, he couldn’t buy that she was involved in the death of Felicity
Markham. Which meant he had to figure out who else it could have been. He
doubted Detweiler or Kovak were the railroading type, but he wondered if he
should recommend that Ashley get a lawyer.

Not until he
heard Kovak’s report. He went to the break room for coffee before settling down
in front of the computer and digging into Belinda Nesbitt’s life. Which, after
twenty minutes of poking around, was duller than dirt. She came from a small
town in Colorado, one younger brother, parents still married to each other. No
marriage license on record for Belinda.

He moved on.
Clean record with the DMV—not even a parking ticket.

Next stop,
education. Took a little more digging, but again, nothing notable. Private
Catholic schools from kindergarten through high school. Solid B plus average.
Did one year majoring in business at Colorado Christian University before
transferring to Oregon State. Why? Her grades were good, and she hadn’t
switched majors. Money run out? He’d made a note to see if he could uncover a
reason for the switch when Kovak poked his head in the doorway.

“I’ve got
Ashley Eagan in a room. Want to sit in?”

Damn
straight he did. He logged off the computer and stood, keeping his expression
neutral. “Sure. Thanks.”

“Bring the
papers,” Kovak said.

Scott
gathered the photocopies and followed Kovak down the hall.

Ashley
barely acknowledged Scott when he entered the interrogation room. Kovak motioned
for him to take the second chair, the same way he had when they’d first
questioned Ashley. The detective seemed to prefer being able to move around
when he asked his questions. Tempted as Scott was to take Ashley’s hands, which
were clasped on the table in front of her, he convinced himself that what
Ashley needed now was a cop on her side.

“Tell me
about your relationship with Felicity Markham,” Kovak said.

Ashley met
Kovak’s gaze. “I already told you. Our relationship, if you could call it that,
was strained at best. She seemed to think I was going to put her out of
business, and nothing I said changed her mind.”

“Do you have
reason to believe she was actively trying to stop you from opening your bakery?”

Ashley’s
eyes widened. “No. Why would I?”

“You were
having trouble with your construction project, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but
Carl explained everything. Mix-ups happen. Accidents happen. Delays happen.”

“Seems you
had more than your share.” Kovak moved closer. He pulled one of the photocopies
from the stack. “Have you ever seen this? We found it in the tea shop.”

Scott kept
his gaze fixed on Ashley’s face as she picked up the paper. The one that said, “Those
idiots can’t do anything right.” He’d bet his badge—if he still had one—that
her puzzled expression was genuine.

“You think
Felicity was conspiring with Carl? I can’t believe it.” Ashley shoved the paper
across the table.

Kovak
replaced it in the stack. “Not Carl, necessarily. But he had a lot of subs
working for him. And from what I’ve heard about Ms. Markham, she wasn’t above
using her…charms…to convince people to do what she wanted.”

Nothing
Scott had found indicated that the victim had done anything of the kind, but
Kovak wasn’t obligated to tell the truth. “What about this one?” Kovak pulled
out another paper, the one that said she’d regret the bakeoff. He added the
flyer. “Or this? You told me that Ms. Markham was the only merchant who hadn’t
agreed to hand out your flyers. But we found a stack of them torn up in her
trash.”

Ashley’s
gaze moved from the papers to Kovak, to Scott, then back to Kovak. “I gave some
flyers to her assistant. Paige. She said she’d put them in the customers’ bags
and not tell Felicity. I guess Felicity found them.”

“And the
other one?”

“I have no
idea. Everything is running smoothly for the bakeoff.” She unclasped her hands
and curled them into fists. “You can ask the committee. I gave you their names
when you questioned me the first time. Maybe they know something.”

“I will,”
Kovak said. His demeanor shifted, gentled. A touch more good cop. “You
understand, that if you knew about any of this, it gives you a reason to want
Ms. Markham out of your way.”

***

Ashley
gripped the table as the room spun. Now they thought
she
was a suspect?
This couldn’t be happening. She looked to Scott for answers, but he was
pointedly avoiding her gaze. Did he know about this? It could explain his
sudden shift in mood this morning. “I … I …” She cleared her throat. Drew in
some air. Exhaled slowly. Shook her head. “I didn’t know any of this. I told
you, Felicity was cold to me. And she had that tantrum at Elaine’s studio, but
I had no idea it ran this deep. I thought that once my bakery was open, she’d
see that she wasn’t losing customers to me. I would never harm her. And why
would I leave her body in the bakery?”

Kovak
lowered a hip to the table, leaning into her. She fought the urge to tilt away.
She had nothing to hide.

“I agree, it
would have been a stupid thing to do,” Kovak said. “Unless you were trying to
make us think it had to be someone else who committed the crime because you
wouldn’t point the finger at yourself. Or maybe you didn’t realize you’d given
her enough of the drug to kill her.”

“May I?”
Scott interrupted.

She tried to
read him, but when he was in cop mode, he might as well be a statue. Was he
trying to help, or did he have yet another argument pointing to her as a
murderer?

Scott put
another piece of paper in front of her. “Can you explain what this might mean?”

She saw
me. Can’t risk that she noticed.

“Nothing
comes to mind. You’re sure this refers to me? Maybe she was paranoid and
thought lots of people were out to get her. You know, looking for other people
to blame for her business failures.”

“We’ll
definitely consider that,” Detective Kovak said. “But for now, let’s assume it’s
you. What did you see?”

Ashley
closed her eyes, trying to remember her encounters with Felicity. She’d gone to
Felicitea with her flyers. There had been nothing out of the ordinary, not that
she knew what was normal in the tea shop. But Felicity hadn’t seemed nervous.
And at Elaine’s? If Felicity had anything she was going to show Elaine that
Ashley shouldn’t have seen, why have it in the open? That left the grocery
store. She repeated her encounter to Detective Kovak, exactly as she had when
he’d questioned her the first time.

“If I show
you pictures of the tea shop, do you think you could tell if something was
unusual?” Detective Kovak asked. “You’re both in the food business. Maybe
something will jump out at you.”

“Sure,”
Ashley said. “But I’ve only been in there a few times. I don’t know if I’d
remember.”

“Can I get
you something to drink?” Detective Kovak asked. “Coffee, soda, water?”

“Water would
be wonderful,” she said.

Once
Detective Kovak was gone, Scott took her hands in his and squeezed. “You’re
doing fine. I have to be neutral here, or they won’t let me help with the case.”

She craned
her neck toward the doorway, making sure they were still alone. “Does he really
suspect me?” she whispered.

“I don’t
think so. But he’s doing the right thing, given these diary entries.”

“Dotting Is
and crossing Ts?”

Scott
smiled, and some of her tension evaporated. “Yep. Normal cop stuff.” He let go
of Ashley’s hand and sat back in his cop posture.

Kovak
returned with a large stack of papers and a bottle of water. He set both on the
table. “These are the pictures Connor took at the tea shop. I think he was
having too much fun trying out a new lens, but tell me if you notice anything
that Felicity might have thought you shouldn’t have seen.”

Ashley took
the pictures. Her brain was too busy trying to figure out if it would be a good
thing or a bad thing if she saw something that might have triggered Felicity’s
note to process what she was seeing. She opened the bottle of water and let the
liquid counteract the dryness in her mouth.

Calmer, she
studied the images. It appeared that every inch of the front of the house had
been captured. Display cases filled with salads, sandwiches and cookies.
Teapots, teacups. Her heart pounded a bit as she remembered the blue-flowered
mugs. Were there any here? She leafed through the pictures, scanning for the
mugs, but found none.

Shaking her
head, she set them down. “Nothing unusual.” She picked up another batch, these
of the kitchen and back of the house. Typical kitchen accoutrements. She
continued perusing the photos, straining to see something that might provide a
clue. Pantry, walk-in fridge. Pictures with the doors closed, pictures with
them open.

“Anything?”
Detective Kovak’s voice broke her concentration.

“I don’t—Wait.”
Ashley went through the stack again, finding the pictures of the front of the
house, zeroing in on the menu board behind the counter. “Here.” She tapped a
photo. “See. It says,
We use only the freshest ingredients. Organic and
locally grown.”

She set out
a photo of the inside of the refrigerator. “This. I saw her buying groceries,
but I don’t think I’d ever have made the connection.”

“What?”
Scott said.

“The
produce. It’s all regular grocery store product, not organic. When we bumped
carts, she probably thought I’d discovered her secret.”

Detective
Kovak picked up the photos and paced the small room. “Reasonable assumption.
She’s losing money. She starts cutting corners. She’s on edge, thinks that
someone might find out.”

“And because
she’s got this secret,” Scott added, “she’s on hyper-alert. She worries that
everyone’s out to discover it. Borderline paranoia, perhaps.”

“Typical
behavior,” Kovak said. “And because she’s already pegged Ashley as the enemy,
she’s convinced her secret is out, and that Ashley is going to expose her.”

Ashley
sensed where this was going. Scott and Detective Kovak had just strengthened
her motive for getting rid of Felicity.

Detective
Kovak seemed to sense her thoughts. He bored her with her gaze. “So, somewhere
down the line, Felicity Markham confronts you. Threatens you, perhaps. Maybe
she’s blackmailing you to keep your mouth shut. Or maybe you find out she was
behind some of the accidents with your construction and want to get back at
her. You invite her over for a quiet talk. Offer her some hot chocolate. It’s
drugged, and she dies.”

Ashley sat
there, her mouth agape. How could he be saying these things? She bolted to her
feet. “This is crazy. All of it. First, I did no such thing, and wouldn’t do it
even if I thought Felicity was threatening me. I’d have gone to you—to the
cops. And you’ve got a lot of pieces left over. Like the upstairs, and where I
got the drugs, and why there was only one mug, and—”

Both men
exchanged another one of those irritating cop glances. Scott smiled.

“What?”
Ashley demanded.

“It’s all
right, Miss Eagan,” Detective Kovak said. “You’re free to go.” He picked up the
pictures and left the room.

She looked
at Scott. “What happened?”

“Dotting Is
and crossing Ts,” Scott said. “You gave Kovak a nice lead—someone else might
have known about the non-organic scam. And he’s a good reader of body language.
Plain to see you weren’t faking your responses.”

“And if he
hadn’t believed me?” she asked, still off balance.

Scott leaned
on the table and hoisted himself to his feet. “I’d have set him straight.”

Why wasn’t
she convinced?

Scott read
doubt in Ashley’s eyes. Justifiable, perhaps, considering he’d been playing the
role of cop while Kovak had peppered her with what bordered on accusations of
guilt. When she stood, clutching her purse in front of her chest like a shield,
he waited for her to say something.

Instead, she
narrowed her eyes, flattened her lips, and spun away from him. He watched,
rooted to the floor, as she flounced out the door.

Reluctantly,
he let her go. He’d do more good searching for the real killer. He figured
Ashley was near the bottom of Kovak’s list. Belinda was Scott’s priority now.
But first, he needed to make sure Detweiler was alerted to what Ashley had
uncovered. If Paige Haeber worked in the tea shop, surely she knew the organic
angle was a ruse, even if a temporary one.

He found
Kovak in the detectives’ office. Once again, Scott preferred to use the empty
silence approach. Although cops were wise to its workings, he had a feeling
Kovak would fill the void.

For a long
moment, the silence was palpable. Then Kovak spoke. “You don’t think I was too
hard on her, do you?”

Scott
avoided the immediate gut response of “Damn right, I think you were too harsh.”
He eased himself into a chair. “No, you needed to see her reactions, and since
you cut her loose, I assume she passed.”