"Samuel! How lovely to see you. Have you decided to take up collecting? Start a collection now, and leave some family heirlooms for your lovely girls."
Sam chuckled. Antique collecting wasn’t really his thing. He was more of a minimalist. "Not today, Clara. Today I have some questions."
"Hopefully, I have the answers."
"I was wondering if a tourist came in recently. A young woman looking for marbles." Sam leaned on the glass display case Clara used as a counter while she thought.
Clara frowned. "I don’t recall anything like that. And you know I have a sharp memory."
Clara’s memory was legendary. If someone had come looking for a cobalt-blue Meissen teapot in 1950, she’d remember it to the day and be able to supply that teapot even if she came across it decades later. He didn’t doubt that Clara would remember if Lynn had been in there.
"Did you work every day this week?" he asked. Clara had a few part-time helpers that manned the store when she went to estate sales and auctions.
"Yep. No auctions for me to attend this week, so I’ve been behind the counter every day. If you’re asking if the girl came in this week, I can assure you she didn’t."
Sam thanked Clara and left. Someone had lied about the marbles, but he didn’t know if it was Julie that had lied or if Lynn had lied to Julie. Why would Lynn lie?
She clearly did have a meeting and apparently hadn’t told any of her coworkers. But why keep it a secret? And who was R. B.?
Several of them had said that Lynn had headed in the direction of the antiques store. That didn’t mean she stopped there, though. Maybe if he continued down the street, something would jump out at him.
Sam walked slowly, looking down the side streets and into the shops. He wasn’t just trying to figure out where Lynn might have really gone—he was also looking for any sign of Lucy.
He’d gotten attached to the dog in the short time he’d known her. He hated thinking about her trying to survive out on the streets alone. Up here, there was a lot of wildlife that could be dangerous to dogs, and winter temperatures dipped well below zero.
Reese’s announcement of how Lucy could be euthanized had chilled him. Maybe Sam could find someone that would take her. One of his daughters or his ex-wife? Maybe even Mick.
At the end of the street was a plain-looking gray concrete building. In Sam’s opinion, it was the ugliest building in town. It hadn’t been built in the early 1900s like the rest of Main Street and didn’t have the fine architectural details the other buildings had. This one had been built around 1970 and was made of giant concrete blocks that would have been more at home in an inner city than in a quaint New England town.
Sam never paid much attention to the building, and not just because of its looks. It was loaded with lawyers and accountants. He didn’t get along with many lawyers in town, especially the ones that defended those who broke the law.
He was about to turn back when the black-and-gold sign listing the occupants caught his eye. One occupant in particular. Richard Bannister Funding. R. B.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Richard Bannister’s office was on the second floor. Sam took the stairs. Richard was about twelve years younger than Sam, but Sam had known his family since he was a kid. He remembered him as a somewhat chubby and awkward but happy kid running around at town cookouts and riding his bike up and down the streets.
Judging by the mahogany furniture, thick burgundy rug, and receptionist in the foyer of his office suite, Richard had done well for himself.
Sam wasn’t wearing his police uniform, just the windbreaker with the White Rock Police insignia, his jeans, and a blue button-down shirt, so he flashed his badge at the receptionist.
"Is Mr. Bannister in?"
Her eyes widened at his badge. She had nice eyes. Light blue, with just a hint of dark mascara. Her outfit was a tailored suit. She looked worried.
"Is there some trouble?" she asked.
"Not at all." Sam introduced himself. "Sam Mason. Chief of police, but I’m sort of a family friend. Just here to ask a question or two."
Her relief was palpable. She pressed a button on the phone and announced that Sam was there.
She stood. "Right this way."
Sam followed her to a mahogany door with a large brass handle, which she opened to reveal a man in his late twenties sitting behind a gigantic desk. The awkward, chubby kid was gone. Richard had grown up to be trim and full of self-confidence. He still seemed happy.
He stood and came around the desk, extending his hand, a smile on his face. "Sam. Good to see you."
The two men shook hands. Richard didn’t seem at all nervous, not that Sam expected him to be. Just because Lynn had met with him the day she died didn’t mean he had anything to do with her death. Didn’t mean it didn’t have something to do with it either.
Sam wondered why Richard wouldn’t seem a little nervous, knowing someone he’d met with had died shortly after the meeting and now the chief of police was standing in his office. Then again, maybe Richard wasn’t the R. B. that had been on Lynn’s calendar.
Richard gestured for Sam to sit, and he sank into a soft, buttery leather chair that leaned back easily without squeaking. Sam wondered if he should upgrade the ancient chair in his own office as Richard sat back down behind the desk.
"I suppose this isn’t just a social call," Richard said.
"Why’s that?"
"You’re here about Lynn Palmer, right?" Richard spun in his chair to look out the big windows that looked away from town, toward the mountains in the distance. He sucked in a breath. "Terrible thing what happened to her. We were friends in college. She was a nice girl. Smart. Do you know who did it?"
"I have some suspicions." Sam leaned forward in his chair. "So you did meet with her that day?"
"Sure." Richard shrugged. "Is that some kind of a secret?"
"Apparently. When did you meet with her?"
Richard looked down at the appointment book that lay open on his desk. "From noon until quarter to one."
"Why was she here?"
Richard looked surprised, as if Sam should’ve known. "She was looking to get funding for her company. Hey, look, if I was supposed to come down and tell you that I met with her, I’m sorry. I figured you would’ve known and come to ask if you had a question."
Sam leaned back in the chair. "Were you able to give her money?"
Richard’s face darkened. "Unfortunately, I wasn’t. I’m just a little guy. I don’t have a lot of capital. That’s why I fund the smaller companies. But I don’t have extra funds to get into anything too risky, even if they do offer a high rate of return, and to tell you the truth, her company was just a bit too risky for my comfort level."
"Why’s that?"
"The balance sheet. That company had way too many expenses for the income." Richard spread his hands. "I told her to tighten up expenses and come back and see me in six months." His face turned sad, and he looked down at the desk. "I guess that won’t be happening now."
It made sense. The company wasn’t doing well, and Lynn wanted more money. An influx of cash might help to fund a more lucrative project. But why didn’t she tell any of the others? Was there someone in the company that wouldn’t want her to get outside funding?
Sam walked slowly back to the station, his mind turning over the particulars of the case. It made sense that Lynn was looking for funding given that sales had taken a downturn, but why had she kept it a secret?
Pedestrian traffic downtown was light, but still there was no sign of Lucy. Opening the large oak doors into the marbled foyer of the police station, he half expected to see the dog lying beside Reese’s desk. But she wasn’t. Somehow, the station seemed sad and empty without her.