Sandpiper Way (Cedar Cove #8)(88)

“Thank you.”

“Last, and probably most important,” Roy said, leaning forward and scribbling a note on his pad, “Sheriff Davis has a fairly good idea who might be responsible.”

“He does?”

Roy met his gaze and nodded.

Dave continued to stare at him. “You aren’t going to tell me who you think it might be?”

Roy grinned. Then he said, “That’s not up to me. You’ve asked for my advice and I’ll give it to you. Go see Sheriff Davis and tell him everything you’ve just told me.”

Thirty

Troy Davis decided this was destined to be the worst Christmas of his life. He could see it happening already. Everywhere he turned people were in good spirits. Even the crime rate was down. Folks around town had taken a kinder, gentler approach to life. Instead of lifting his own mood, however, that only irritated him. In a word, he was depressed.

The reason, and he was obliged to admit the fault was of his own making, could be attributed to a number of unpleasant factors. First and foremost, the woman he loved wanted nothing to do with him.

They’d parted on relatively friendly terms. But he wondered if it would’ve been better if they’d simply blown up at each other, if they’d stopped hiding the pain and the anger. But oh, no, that wasn’t Faith’s way. She’d wanted to end their relationship on a civilized note. For all the well-wishing between them, he told himself peevishly, you’d think they’d gotten engaged.

It didn’t help his mood that Dave Flemming seemed to have involved the entire town in this ridiculous Nativity reenactment. The whole cast of characters, from Mary and Joseph right down to the drummer boy, was made up of volunteers. They were displaying the tableau nightly for two weeks, until December twenty-third. People who came to see it were asked to bring a nonperishable item to feed the hungry or throw a dollar or two into a donation box. Word had spread to the surrounding communities and there were whole caravans of cars and trucks making their way to Cedar Cove. So that meant traffic snarls and chaos on the road, which required him to add a rotation of deputies to deal with it.

Troy had no idea how Dave had managed to borrow a camel for the program. From some petting zoo, maybe? But camels weren’t the friendliest or most tolerant of beasts, or so he’d heard. In addition, Dave had located a few head of sheep, a donkey and some cattle; all of them were required to stand in adoration for at least four hours every night. Nothing like this had ever taken place in Cedar Cove before and the event was an unqualified success. It was even more popular than the seagull calling contest, which was really saying something.

Successful as it was, though, the Nativity scene put a lot of pressure on Pastor Flemming. And things would only get worse because Troy was obliged to call him in for questioning. Martha Evans’s relatives were on him like white on rice. Those two women wanted their mother’s jewelry, and they weren’t going to let up until Troy made an arrest. Circumstantially, everything pointed to Dave Flemming. But after all these years in police work, Troy knew he could rely on his instincts and he didn’t believe for a minute that Dave was involved. Still, there were a few unanswered questions he needed to ask—not that Dave was the only “person of interest” here. Unfortunately the likely culprit had been cagey and Troy didn’t have a legitimate reason to order a visit to the station—not yet, anyway.

The phone rang and he grabbed it, grateful for the interruption. “Sheriff Davis.”

“Hi, Daddy.” His daughter’s sweet voice instantly made him feel better. “Merry Christmas.”

“Same to you, sweetheart.”

“I saw Faith this morning.”

Troy gritted his teeth. Megan didn’t realize she was rubbing salt in an open wound. “That’s nice,” was the best he could manage.

“She said to tell you hello.”

Troy straightened. This might be a sign. Perhaps Faith was signaling that she’d be receptive to hearing from him. His mood lightened a little more. “Did she now?” Perhaps Faith had experienced a change of heart and was using his daughter as a messenger.

“I told you she’s helping me with my knitting, didn’t I?”

“I think you said something about it.” He was afraid to reveal how desperate he was for every detail his daughter could give him.

“We’re going to meet for lunch every week.”

“That’s nice.” Again, he kept his voice even so as not to indicate any undue interest.

“It is. We talk about my pregnancy and she’s been really helpful. She’s a lot like Mom, you know. She listens and reassures me. I like her so much.”

Troy let the comment slide, eager to hear anything Faith might have said, but not so eager that he’d ask his daughter outright.

“I asked her why the two of you didn’t get together. You used to like each other, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but that was eons ago.”

Megan sighed. “That’s what Faith said, too.”

Troy knew she’d never say anything openly critical of him, especially to Megan. He was astonished that the two of them had become friends without his knowing it. Who would’ve guessed? Now Megan was practically begging him to date the very woman she’d once feared would come between them.

“She had lots of nice things to say about you.”