Detective Thurman shrugged his answer.
"It seems to me you should be looking into these things," I said. "After all, isn't money often a motive for murder? And what about relationships she had? Aren't you curious to find out who was close to her? Maybe somebody close to her wanted her dead. There's some significant statistics that support that line of inquiry, you know."
He pursed his lips and nodded at me, looking for all the world like he'd never had the idea before. He was starting to irritate me. I looked at Mr. Green. I was already irritated with him. He looked at the table and rubbed his forehead. Well, hell. Was I the only one with any ideas?
"Oh, for crying out loud. Did you even think to look for jewelry on her? Maybe she was killed in a robbery attempt."
"It did occur to us, but nope, I don't think that was the motive."
"But she always wore big diamond stud earrings and a Rolex watch. If those were missing it could have been robbery."
"Expensive stuff to be wearing around every day."
I rolled my eyes. "Valerie had the best and most expensive of everything. She had to be better than everyone else, all the time. If Valerie saw that someone had something wonderful, then she had to have it. And if she wanted it, she got it.
"Except your horse."
"Except my horse."
"Why?"
"He's not for sale. He never will be."
"But didn't she want him?"
"Look, he's not the only nice horse in the world. I don't think she wanted him as much as she enjoyed pushing my buttons." Crap. Thea, you're saying all the wrong things. What's wrong with you? Can't you think at all? My heart pounded against my ribs and I dripped sweat. I was sure Detective Thurman would love to arrest me for being too stupid to keep from running off at the mouth and implicating myself. Mr. Green laid a warning hand on my shoulder. He had quit fidgeting.
"Is that right. Did she make you mad?" Thurman asked.
"No." I said, rigid with indignation. "She made me avoid her."
"I think the interview is over," Mr. Green said.
"One more question." The detective was still leaning back in his nonchalant pose, yet his intense scrutiny was as devastating as any dressage judge's.
"What's that?" Ask it already and let me go home.
"Where were you Saturday afternoon between three and six?"
"That's when she died, isn't it?"
He didn't respond to my question – no doubt expecting me to answer his. But the king-sized monkey wrench he'd just tossed into the gears of my pet theory grappled for my attention. It was clear Valerie had nothing to do with Blackie's theft. Yet, despite the lack of proof, I knew Blackie's theft had to be connected to Valerie's murder. Thurman's bullet-like stare and Green's ominous silence reeled me back into the conversation.
"I was at my aunt and uncle's doing their taxes. I went there at a little after one and stayed until about five when I went home to get ready for dinner with Jonathan. I told you that already."
Thurman rose and leaned across the table, his weight on his hands. "It seems to me that this bill of sale makes a pretty decent motive for murder. Combine that with a witness who places you driving your car in the area at the approximate time of death and I think we've got a case against you, Miss Campbell."
My jaw dropped. "What?"
"Red Ford Escort. Woman driver with short dark hair." His smile belonged on a shark.
My mouth went dry. Was this where he pulled out the handcuffs and read me my rights?
"It seems to me," Mr. Green said with a calm I wouldn't have suspected he possessed, "that if you actually thought you had decent evidence, you would arrest my client." He was motionless.
The two of them had a brief staring contest, while I sat holding my breath and sweating. Detective Thurman blinked first. He straightened, walked to the door and stopped, but didn't turn around.
Did I dare hope he wasn't going to arrest me?
"Don't be planning any trips out of town, Miss Campbell."
I could have guessed he'd say that.
"What do I do now?" I asked my lawyer, as we walked to our cars. I still reverberated with the shock of the accusation and so-called evidence against me.
"Nothing," he said, tossing his keys into the air and catching them in rhythm with his stride.
"Nothing?" My voice hit an octave higher than usual. "They're on the edge of arresting me for a murder I did not commit and you're telling me I should do nothing?"
"Calm down, you're only a person of interest. You haven't been charged. Let them do their work and call me if they want to talk to you again. Oh, and in the future, don't try so hard to make yourself look guilty. You might want to refrain from cross-examining the detective, too." He got into his ancient blue and white Chevy and slammed the door. It didn't latch, so he gave it another mighty heave. "Gotta get this thing fixed," he said through a half-opened window I was fairly certain wouldn't close, either. Giving me a friendly wave, he drove off in a cloud of blue smoke.
Do nothing? Doing nothing was out of the question.
Chapter Sixteen
I got home shortly after four o'clock, took what remained of the chocolate ice cream out of the freezer, grabbed a spoon, and called Jonathan. I didn't even bother to think before I dialed. My life was a living hell. I might as well face everything I was avoiding. I needed to talk to him about ending our relationship, and ask him what the hell he was thinking when he gave me Jacob Green's phone number.
Jonathan's secretary put me through. He was less than friendly. His tone suggested strongly I change my confrontational attitude.
"Jonathan, can we talk?"
"I've got a meeting."
"Later?"
"I'll be in meetings the rest of the day."
I looked at the clock. Four-ten. Meetings. Right. "Can we get together for dinner tonight like we planned?"
"I don't think there's much to talk about."
"Please?" Guilt stabbed me repeatedly. "I'm so sorry about what happened."
"I'll consider your apology."
Now that was just plain childish. I pushed my temper down. It would get me nowhere. "I need to talk to you. Please? You deserve an explanation. I really would like to see you. Please?" The man was making me beg. I probably deserved it.
"Seven o'clock. I'll meet you at Bernard's."
"Thank you," I said, but he'd hung up before I uttered the words.
I dipped into the carton for another spoonful of ice cream, but it was empty. Surprise. I had to stop eating like this.
You deserved that hang-up, Thea. He was a decent person and you betrayed him. You should change your name to Jezebel. And don't you ever criticize your sister again. At least she ended one relationship before she started another.
I tossed the empty ice cream container into the kitchen garbage and returned to my office.
Damn. I'd forgotten to ask him about Jacob Green. I wasn't going to call him back. Dinner was soon enough for that conversation.
At half past five my doorbell rang. I wasn't expecting anyone and approached it with my heart in my throat.
"Who is it?" I said to the door.
"It's me – Delores. Glad you're taking some care answering your door. Now, let me in before someone sees me dressed like this."
I opened the door and did a double take.
"Wow," I said. "You look… you look…"
"Ridiculous?" she asked.
"No, stunning."
Gone was the usual blue jean and flannel shirt uniform. In its place, a heather gray, fitted suit, pale blue silk blouse and low pumps. Her short gray hair, usually barely combed, was styled. And she had makeup on. I didn't know she owned any. She had the willowy look of a senior fashion model. If it weren't for her vexed expression I wouldn't have recognized her.
"Are you going to stand there gaping at me or are you going to let me in?"
I let her in. She shouldered out of her jacket and tossed it on a chair.