Sandpiper Way (Cedar Cove #8)(101)

Just as Allan seemed on the verge of saying something else, Sheriff Davis came out of his office. Roy McAfee was with him. The private detective’s eyes went directly to Dave and Emily. He nodded once in recognition. Dave tried to read his look and couldn’t.

“I’d like Allan, Dave, Emily and Geoff to step into my office,” the sheriff said.

Chairs had been set up in advance, and they all took their places. Allan carefully laid his long tailored coat over his knees.

“This is a bit unconventional,” the attorney muttered.

“Yes, I suspect it is,” Sheriff Davis agreed. “However, I think my reasons will become quite clear.” He glanced around the room. “Dave, would you mind if I asked you a few questions in front of the others?”

Dave turned to Roy, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod. “I don’t have anything to hide.”

“Good.” Sheriff Davis claimed his own seat. The only one left standing was Roy McAfee.

“Dave, you were a friend of Martha Evans, am I correct?”

He answered forthrightly. “Martha was part of our church family.”

“I understand,” the sheriff murmured.

The attorney looked pointedly at his watch as if to say he didn’t have time for this. Geoff Duncan, in the chair farthest from Dave and Emily, also seemed eager to get this over with. Dave felt the same way, but for his family’s sake—and his own—he needed this settled.

“In the last days of her life you stopped by as often as two and three times a week.”

“You have to realize that Martha was well into her eighties, but her mind was as sharp as the proverbial tack. Her body had started to fail but she wanted to stay in her home, which is why her family arranged for the visiting nurse.”

Sheriff Davis inclined his head. “You say she gave you the gold watch.”

“Yes. She’d written a letter to that effect. I saw it myself. She told me her attorney would be coming by later in the day and that she’d hand it to him.”

The sheriff turned to Allan Harris. “Did you make a habit of visiting Martha Evans’s home?” he asked.

Allan met the sheriff’s gaze squarely. “She lived close to the courthouse and it certainly wasn’t a problem. I’d known Martha for years. She was a good friend of my mother’s. I was happy to do her a small favor.”

“Did you ever send your legal assistant to her home instead?”

“Just once,” Geoff inserted. “He asked me to drop some papers off on my way home from work one afternoon.”

“Is that true?” The sheriff looked searchingly at the attorney.

Allan Harris concurred. “That’s true. It was just the one time.”

“Do you remember exactly when that was?”

Allan Harris reached for his briefcase. “I can tell you in a moment. It was the same day as the deposition for…” He let the rest fade as he checked the calendar on his BlackBerry. “I have it here. That would be September sixth.”

“The sixth,” Sheriff Davis repeated and wrote down the date. Then he glanced at Dave. “Do you recall when you discovered Martha’s body?” he asked.

It wasn’t something Dave was likely to forget. “Two days later,” he said.

“The eighth.” The sheriff nodded. “And she gave you the watch on which day?”

“The sixth.”

“In other words, it was two days before her death. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And she had the letter at that time?”

“Yes.”

“The same day Mr. Harris sent his assistant to Martha’s home.”

Geoff Duncan was on his feet. “Now, listen, if you’re suggesting I had anything to do with this—”

“As a matter of fact I’m more than suggesting,” Sheriff Davis said without missing a beat. “I’ve subpoenaed your bank statement.” He opened a file and handed the sheet to Geoff Duncan. “I also have the statement of a Seattle pawnshop owner who’s willing to testify that you pawned several diamond rings.”

The room crackled with electrifying silence.

“Geoff Duncan?” Emily whispered, her eyes wide as she looked at Dave.

He squeezed her hand. He would never have suspected the younger man. It hadn’t so much as occurred to him.

Geoff fell back into his chair and stared into the distance with a dazed expression. “I…I needed the money.”

Dave briefly closed his eyes and recalled the conversation with Geoff a few weeks ago when he’d proudly told him about his fiancée. Lori Bellamy was from one of the most prominent families in the area, and apparently Geoff felt obliged to keep her in the style to which she was accustomed—even though he couldn’t afford to do it.

“Geoff.” Allan Harris said the other man’s name in a hushed voice. He must’ve been feeling shock, incredulity and sadness, Dave thought. “Why?”

Geoff refused to answer. “I’m not saying another word until I speak with an attorney.”

“I’m an attorney,” Harris reminded him caustically.

“I want a criminal attorney, not one who specializes in probate.” The other man’s eyes sparked with indignation.