A High-End Finish(48)

“But why?” If she had half a brain, she’d be thanking me for kicking him. “I refuse to believe she didn’t know Jerry was cheating on all those other women.”

“I guess the others didn’t make quite the splash you did.”

“Thanks a lot.”

He chuckled. “Sorry, boss.”

I didn’t blame him for laughing, but I wondered if I would ever live down that awful scene on the beach. Was it possible that my evening with Jerry had led directly to his murder? What if Joyce killed him and was trying to make me look guilty? Had she somehow arranged for Stan to lure me to their house? Did she set me up to find Jerry’s body in the basement? Was she angry enough to come after me next? I thought about my bicycle’s damaged brake line and shivered a little.

But that was just an accident, I tried to convince myself for the umpteenth time.

“Meanwhile,” Wade continued blithely, “Stan was making his own snide comments on the side.”

I tried to concentrate on his words. “You guys must’ve been shaking your heads at all this.”

“We were,” he said.

“I’ll have to find a way to ask them not to come around. We’ll never get their house finished at this rate.”

“Good luck with that,” Wade said. “Oh, but there’s more. Stan was listening to everything Joyce was ranting about and finally he gets right up in her face and says to her, ‘You’re such a bitch, I’m surprised the guy didn’t kill you.’”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah. It got a little dicey there for a few minutes. She threatened to punch Stan, and he dared her to try it. I had the guys circle around them in case we had to pull one of them off the other.”

“Aren’t they a fun couple?” I was starting to get a headache.

Wade chuckled and I thanked him for that lovely golden snippet of gossip, even though it was more disturbing than I was willing to admit to him.

A minute later we ended the call, and as I drank the rest of my coffee, I thought about Jerry Saxton and what a jerk he’d been. And besides being a jerk, he really knew how to pick his women.

Was it just me, or was it getting more obvious every day that Jerry had driven some woman over the edge? And whoever that woman was, she’d seen no other way out than to kill him.





Chapter Nine


The sound of ringing dragged me out of an intense, weird dream in which Joyce and Stan Boyer were chasing me around their dank, shadowy basement, waving my own pink wrench at me.

As I fumbled for the phone, I tried to adjust my vision to the total darkness of the living room. Where had the sun gone? “Hello?”

“Ms. Hammer, it’s Chief Jensen.”

Was this part of my weird dream? No, pretty sure I was awake. I shook my head back and forth to restart my brain. “Hello, Chief Jensen.”

“Sounds like I woke you up,” he said. Was it my imagination, or did he sound judgmental? “I’m sorry about that. I heard about your trouble yesterday.”

“You did?” So maybe it was my imagination, after all. “I guess I’m still a little sleepy. I took some aspirin a while ago and fell sound asleep.”

“That’s probably a good thing to do after what you’ve been through.”

I felt my way over to the end table and turned on the lamp. Was he being sympathetic? Should I be worried? “How can I help you, Chief Jensen?”

“I was speaking with Mac Sullivan a little while ago.”

“Yes?” Here it comes, I thought, sinking back onto the couch. I was going to get a lecture on wasting the police department’s time and energy. Robbie and Tiger must’ve sensed my unease, because they both jumped up and cuddled next to me.

“Yes. I’d like to come by your place with two of my officers and dust for fingerprints in your garage. I understand that’s where you keep your bicycle.”

“Oh.” I was shocked, although I probably shouldn’t have been. Mac was pretty darn persuasive, after all. Still, this was Police Chief Jensen, not exactly my number-one fan. “Right now?”

“If it’s convenient.”

I brushed my unruly hair back from my face and checked the clock on the mantel. It was only a few minutes past five. The days were getting shorter, the sun setting earlier. In a few weeks daylight saving time would end and it would be even darker by now. “Sure. That would be fine.”

“Good. We can be there in—”

“Oh, wait.” I pressed my hand to my forehead. “I’m so sorry. I forgot I have to pick up my truck at the shop in a little while. Can we do it tomorrow?”

He paused for a moment, maybe to check his calendar. “Early morning okay for you?”

I tried to think fast, but it wasn’t easy. “Yes, early is better than late. I usually like to leave the house about eight-thirty, but I’ll be happy to stick around for as long as it takes.”

“We’ll be there at eight.” He hesitated, then asked, “Do you need a ride to the auto shop, Ms. Hammer?”

“What?” Was he honestly willing to give me a ride? He was being so nice. Who was this guy? “Um, no. My friend Jane is taking me. But thank you for offering. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Ms. Hammer.”