The silence was palpable when Olivia and Spunky entered the kitchen. At least Del’s cookie had been nibbled and he had surrendered his jacket. Spunky wriggled out of her arm and raced around the kitchen, conducting a frenetic sniffing exploration. Olivia noticed Del’s eyes following the process, and she was sure his tight expression softened.
While Maddie refilled mugs with coffee and a plate with frozen cookies, Olivia spread her evidence on the table. Del read the letter from Clarisse first. Then he moved on to Faith’s note. “Who is this Faith?”
“Not a clue,” Olivia said. “At first I thought it might not be a person but rather a closing for the note—like ‘Keep the Faith’ or something. In her letter, Clarisse mentioned Faith might be a blackmailer. But I’m not so sure. To me, this looks like part of a letter, the end. I suspect Clarisse wanted me to know what was going on, in case something happened to her. She was supremely confident, but realistic, too. I think she sensed danger.”
Del put the note aside and turned to the two articles about an unidentified, dark-haired woman found dead in the Patuxent River State Park. When he finished, he stared at nothing for some time. Olivia clenched her teeth to keep from interrupting his thoughts. Even Maddie kept still.
Finally, Del gathered the papers into a pile and placed his palm over them. “Why didn’t you turn these over to me?”
“I just did,” Olivia said evenly.
“You know what I mean.”
Olivia shrugged. “Clarisse entrusted me with those letters, and she didn’t want her privacy violated. She wouldn’t have wanted it violated after her death, either. You kept insisting she died either by accident or by her own hand. I figured you would argue that someone was trying to blackmail her and that’s why she was upset. The letters alone don’t really prove she was murdered. It was those articles Maddie found that began to point me toward a possible motive.”
“I don’t see the significance of the articles,” Del said.
“We haven’t found anyone who has heard from Jasmine since she left town so suddenly.”
“Jasmine?”
“Jasmine Dubois.” Olivia was trying to keep the impatience out of her voice. “If Clarisse did have a grandchild, Jasmine was most likely to be the mother.”
Del looked genuinely puzzled. “The name sounds vaguely familiar, but . . .” He lifted his hand and picked up one of the articles about the dead woman. “Ah, I see. This happened six years ago. Eight years ago, my marriage broke up.” He dropped the paper back on his pile and went silent.
Del had never mentioned his broken marriage to Olivia. Not that she was curious, of course. But if Del began to feel self-conscious, he might not explain what his divorce had to do with Jasmine. With a slight shake of her head, Olivia warned Maddie to stay quiet.
Del said, “I needed to get away for a while, so I took a deputy job in a little town in northern Minnesota for two years. Learned a lot. Then the sheriff here retired, and I got the job. End of story. So, who is Jasmine and why is she important?”
Olivia’s energy had begun to flag; she needed a few moments to regroup. She shot a pleading look at Maddie, who gave her an understanding nod.
“Here’s the scoop,” Maddie said. “Hugh, Edward, and Clarisse all thought Jasmine was wonderful. Daddy Chamberlain and jealous girlfriend, Tammy Deacons, begged to differ. One moment Jasmine was a fixture at Pete’s Diner, raking in tips from admiring customers and hanging out with the Chamberlain brothers. The next moment, she had disappeared, leaving confused and broken hearts, never to be heard from again. Those who knew her seem vague about where she came from in the first place.”
“I see,” Del said. “So you suspect this unidentified victim might be her? Why?”
“Timing, long black hair, age about right. Also, as you will note, she had given birth.”
“That’s a lot of circumstantial evidence.”
“Agreed, but it’s the best we’ve got. Also, if you’ll look more closely at my Internet searches, you will notice I couldn’t find any evidence that she ever existed. Sort of makes you wonder.” Maddie lifted the last cookie on the plate, a chartreuse bunny rabbit. His ear became history.
“Six years ago, ordinary people were a lot less likely to find their names on the Internet,” Del said. “We weren’t drowning in social networks.”
Olivia felt some energy return and jumped in. “What Maddie is trying to say is there are too many unanswered questions and coincidences. Clarisse was murdered; the attacks on Sam and me are indirect proof of that. So who was most likely to murder her, and why? It has to be Hugh or Edward or Tammy. Or some combination of them, including all three working together.”
“Livie, you’re going off on a—”
“I think you believe us, but you want us to back off. You intend to take this information and pursue your own investigation. If we stop asking questions, you hope the killer will relax and stop trying to murder people. Am I close?”
Del rubbed his forehead. He looked more tired than Olivia had ever seen him. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. You two aren’t police officers or trained investigators.”
“But that’s—”
“I’m not insulting you, Livie, I’m stating the facts. You are smart, both of you, and you’ve done some good investigating so far. But I’m the one with the training and the resources, not to mention experience.”
“And a gun,” Maddie said.
“Which I prefer not to use, but yes. I do agree with your list of suspects, although I doubt Tammy Deacons would know how to tamper with your brakes. Still, she might be involved, as you’ve pointed out. Arguably, Hugh, Edward, and Tammy all have motives, so two or all three of them could be working together.” Del ran his fingers through his hair. “I want you to cancel the memorial for Clarisse, Livie. It’ll only make both of you vulnerable to another attack.”
Olivia and Maddie exchanged quick glances but said nothing.
“Listen, Livie, whoever tampered with your car isn’t going to give up. You are in real danger. So are you, Maddie, and maybe your families, too.”
“I gave Aunt Sadie an early birthday gift,” Maddie said. “A spa getaway in DC. She accused me of wanting the house to myself, but she left anyway, this morning. Won’t be back until Wednesday.”
Del sank back in his chair. “Have you two listened to a word I’ve said?”
“You’ve expressed your concerns quite clearly,” Olivia said, “and we aren’t ignoring you. We see the situation differently, that’s all. We need you, but you also need us. Okay, go ahead and roll your eyes, but at least hear me out.”
Del made a show of checking his watch.
Olivia reached for the bag of Clarisse’s cookie cutters and emptied them onto the table. “These are why I went to the Chamberlain house in the first place. Somehow, my attacker knew I was there, although Bertha swore up and down she didn’t say a word. My guess is she acted nervous or asked a question that made our suspect or suspects suspicious. Anyway, what matters is that these little babies survived intact. We have three suspects for Clarisse’s murder, a cold murder case, two attacks, and maybe a missing child. What we don’t have is a clear, quick way to figure out who among the three suspects is responsible for what.”
Del said, “As sheriff, I can interview—”
“You can investigate like crazy,” Olivia said, “but that will take time, probably lots of it, and even then you might not succeed. Maddie can’t keep sending her aunt out of town, and I don’t want to hire a bodyguard for who knows how long. Maddie and I have devised a plan that might flush out the guilty party, or parties, much faster.”
“How many painkillers have you consumed?”