“I needed to cool off, so I went downstairs and sat in the living room for a while.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“Yeah, plenty of people saw me. Waiters were passing to and from the kitchen all the time. Ask them. They can confirm I never moved from that spot until I felt composed enough to walk out and face the world again.”
“She sounded plausible,” said Gran as they left Monica and went in search of Francine Jones. “I don’t think she did it.”
“It’ll be easy enough to verify her alibi,” said Odelia. “Plenty of waitstaff were around.”
They found Francine in front of the house, staring at the activity of cops and forensic people engaged in collecting evidence. A tent had been placed around Odelia’s dad’s car, which was now officially a crime scene.
“Francine, hi,” said Odelia.
“Oh, God,” said Francine in a low voice. She seemed as unhappy to see them as their other correspondents.
“Can we ask you a couple of questions?”
“No, you can’t,” said Francine brusquely. “You’re not cops, and I don’t want to talk to the daughter of the man who killed my husband,” she snapped, and made to walk away.
But Gran grabbed her unceremoniously by the arm and said, “Not so fast, missy. First off, Tex didn’t kill anyone—he’s as much the victim here as your husband. And secondly, if I were a betting woman I’d pay good odds that you’re the one who hit your husband over the head.”
Francine uttered a startled yelp and tried to wrench her arm free. In vain. Vesta might look like a little old lady, but she had a surprisingly strong grip, and her bony fingers now dug deeply into the flesh of the widow’s arm.
“Let go of me, you horrible woman!” Francine cried.
“Not before you tell me about the affair your husband was having with Monica Chanting. When did you find out—and don’t lie to me.”
“I–I’ve known for weeks,” said Francine finally, and Gran let go. She rubbed the tender spot. “Jaqlyn left his phone at home one morning, and I noticed right away it wasn’t his usual one. I didn’t even know he’d gotten a second phone. When it started beeping with messages I couldn’t resist the temptation to take a peek. They were all WhatsApp messages from that horrible woman.”
“And I’ll bet she wasn’t the first one either.”
Francine cast down her eyes. “No, she wasn’t. Jaqlyn has always had trouble with fidelity, but I still loved him. He… he promised me the last time it happened that I was the only one for him. That these other women meant nothing. And I believed him.”
“But this time was different.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes, I think so. He seemed more serious. More invested in the relationship. And it lasted much longer than his usual flings.”
“So you did what you had to do and confronted him.”
“I was going to, yes, but Tex never gave me the chance,” she said with an angry frown.
“Look, I can understand you think that way, but I can promise you that Tex didn’t do this,” said Gran, with conviction.
Francine seemed to waver. “But… if he didn’t do it, then who did?”
“We already talked to Monica,” said Odelia. “She has a solid alibi.”
“How did you know I was thinking of her?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Gran. “Your husband wasn’t prepared to commit to her, so she had every reason to be upset with him.”
“Jaqlyn wasn’t going to divorce me?” Francine asked feebly.
“No, I don’t think he was. And I wonder why,” said Gran, narrowing her eyes at the woman. She was like a dog with a bone, not letting go until she got what she wanted.
“I…” Francine shook herself, then said, “Look, I haven’t told the police, but…” She gave Gran a searching look. “How sure are you that Tex didn’t kill my husband?”
“One hundred percent. Tex is not a killer.”
Francine nodded slowly. “I like Tex. He did me a big favor the other day. Well, the thing is… When we married, I was the one with the money. Or more precisely, my family.”
“Was?”
“Yes, Jaqlyn managed to squander almost all of it. Gambled it away. My husband, Mrs. Muffin, had a serious gambling problem. It’s the reason we had to move away from New Hampshire, and start a new life elsewhere. He made a good living over there, but even with the income he had he still managed to lose everything and most of my inheritance, too. He even lost our house and got in trouble with some local loan sharks. I… I’m afraid they may have found us and settled their score.”
Chapter 30
“Look, Tex, there’s no reason to hold out,” said Chase. He and the father of the woman he loved were ensconced inside interview room number one, where they’d sat for the past hour, and frankly he was growing a little weary.
It is never pleasant for a police officer to be forced to handcuff and drag to prison the man whose daughter’s hand one day he hopes to ask in marriage, but it’s even worse when that man steadfastly refuses to tell him the truth. Not fair, Chase meant to say.
“I didn’t do it,” Tex said not for the first time. “I didn’t like Jaqlyn, but I wasn’t going to murder the man.”
“You told your wife you were considering drastic measures. Radical solutions.”
“I meant taking my music career to the next level! Taking the Singing Doctors national!”
“His body was found in the trunk of your car, Tex,” Chase pointed out. “How else do you explain it got there unless you put it there?”
“I can’t!”
“Look, isn’t it possible you killed him in a fit of rage and then blanked it all out?”
“It’s possible,” Tex conceded. “I mean, theoretically such a scenario is certainly conceivable, but I don’t have any recollection of blanking out.”
“Well, you wouldn’t, would you?”
“I doubt it,” said Tex. “It’s not as if I have a history of blanking out.”
“How much did you have to drink?” asked Chase, deciding to try a different tack.
“One or two glasses maybe. They kept topping up, so it’s hard to know for sure.”
“And how well do you hold your liquor?”
Tex rolled his eyes. “You know how well I hold my liquor, Chase. Oh, come on, this is ridiculous! Why am I even here? You know as well as I do that I’m not a killer.”
Chase sat back. “All I know is that you were overheard threatening Jaqlyn a couple of nights ago in a public meeting. Heck, you were even recorded.” He placed his phone on the table and pressed play on a recording he’d found on the Soul Science website. They’d cleaned up the audio and Tex could clearly be seen and heard calling Jaqlyn a number of extremely opprobrious names.
Tex had the decency to look shamefaced. “Oh, God,” he groaned, dragging his hands through his hair. “I said all that, didn’t I?”
“And you meant it,” Chase pointed out. “I was there, and so were a couple of dozen other witnesses. And they’ll all gladly testify in court as to your state of mind and the animosity you harbored towards your future victim, Jaqlyn Jones.”
“I said I didn’t like him, didn’t I? I’m not ashamed to admit it. But kill him? Never.”
“Jaqlyn organized a concerted effort to drag your name through the mud,” said Chase, moving to the next point on the agenda. “He told several people you never finished medical school. That you got your degree from an online college located in Timbuktu and that you had to resort to dissecting vermin to get some practice after you were kicked out of college for plagiarism and exam fraud and generally being the worst student possible. He told some of your patients you were accused of involuntary manslaughter after you killed a patient through sheer incompetence but paid off certain people up top and managed to get the whole thing hushed up.”