Bring Me Flowers (Detectives Kane and Alton #2)(39)


“He’ll never put his boots under your bed.” Kate ducked a slap from her friend. “I’m his type. My boobs are way bigger than yours and he prefers blondes. I heard him tell my brother last year.”

“Oh, pleeeze, like I’d believe he’d turn me down. Lucas is always trying to get into my pants.”

“I am so over watching you drool over Lucky Briggs.” Kate pulled a face. “I think I’ll head home, my mom is expecting me for lunch and if I’m five seconds late I’ll get a lecture. Since your mom told her about Felicity she won’t let me out of her sight. I want to do extra chores so she doesn’t bug me when I’m supposedly in my room playing games tomorrow night.” She bounced to her feet and tucked a strand of long blonde hair behind one ear. “Why don’t you call Felicity again, you might find out what happened to her.”

“I’ve tried and I called the house, no one is answering the phone.” Aimee scowled as she watched Kate head for the door. “No one is saying anything.”

A tingle of excitement skittered up his spine. Confidence flowed over him; he had chosen well and everything he needed would be at hand. He stared at Kate for a few moments longer. Her name lingered in his mind for a millisecond then faded. Once he had made his choice, their names vanished from his thoughts.

They meant nothing to him.





Twenty-Four





Kane drove down the main street and noticed Jenna’s cruiser parked at the curb. She and Wolfe would be interviewing Lionel Provine. He checked the time then headed to Stanton Road. His next stop would be to interview Mr. Rogers—the teacher Aimee and Kate spoke to on the morning of Felicity’s death. The trip would give him an accurate travel time for Derick Smith’s car delivery on Monday morning. As the two people lived relatively close to each other, he would drop by to speak to Mrs. Bolton and check the timeline.

Heading downtown, traffic slowed in a procession toward the fairgrounds. The influx of visitors and the number of people crowding the streets surprised him. The line outside Aunt Betty’s Café went halfway round the block. He smiled. Being a local deputy had benefits. Earlier, he’d walked past the waiting customers, and Susie Hartwig had filled his order at once, all smiles and blushes. The tempting smell of fresh coffee wafted through the window and the sign advertising apple pie à la mode called to him, but he ground his back teeth together, promising the ever persistent rumbling stomach he’d drop by later.

He arrived at Mrs. Bolton’s address and an elderly woman was outside weeding her garden. “Mrs. Bolton?”

“That’s me. What can I do for you deputy?”

Kane took out his notepad and smiled at her. “I gather you had your car repaired at George’s Garage? Do you recall what time Derick Smith dropped it by and how long he was here?”

“Yes, I do. I was eating breakfast so it was around eight.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “He was only here a few minutes. I had a check ready—they had given me a quote—and I gave him the keys to the loaner. He left straight away.”

Kane made a few notes. “So, less or more than ten minutes?”

“More like five.” She screwed up her eyes at him. “Is there a problem?”

Kane closed his notepad. “No not at all. Thank you for your help.” He touched his hat and strolled back to his car. Next stop Rogers.

The house at number 206 Stanton Road was an impressive log home with a wide veranda out front, similar in style to most of the homes in this end of town. He pulled his vehicle into the driveway, made a note of the time of arrival, and headed up the steps. A dog barked from inside and he could hear a man’s voice and footsteps. Before he had time to knock, the door opened and a man in his thirties stepped onto the porch.

Dressed in uniform, Kane’s arrival would usually cause a modicum of concern, but Mr. Rogers’ expression gave no clue to his inner thoughts. “Mr. Rogers?”

“I am.” The man folded his arms against his chest. “Lovely day, don’t you think?”

Taken slightly aback, Kane nodded. “Yeah, it sure is pretty around here in the summer.” He reached inside his pocket for his notepad. “I’m Deputy David Kane and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“I know who you are.” Rogers let out a long sigh. “Which kid has got themselves into trouble this time?”

“Why would you believe I’m here for that reason?”

“It’s summer break.” Rogers shuffled his feet, impatiently. “I’m not available to help them maneuver around the cyberbullying rampant online at the moment. I guess a parent complained and you came straight to me to sort out the problem?”

Kane straightened and shook his head. “No, and we have resources to handle a variety of cybercrimes in the department. I came to question you about something entirely different. I need you to account for your movements between the hours of eight and ten on Monday morning.”

“Monday morning?” Rogers appeared agitated. “In relation to what? I am entitled to know if I am a suspect in a crime before I answer your questions.”

Why are you being so defensive? “We received a complaint about an incident that occurred between the hours of eight and ten on Monday morning and I am speaking to people seen in the area.” He met his gaze with a hard stare. “Would you mind telling me what you were doing in Stanton Forest before nine?”

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