Alibis and Amethysts (7 page)

Jaye had stopped listening after the cause of death. She needed to know why the ME
had eliminated the possibility of an accident, and she needed to know as soon as possible.
But she also had a business to run and Raffles to consider. Something had to give,
and for today at least, that might have to be the shop. She turned off the TV and
was about to take her coffee cup back into the kitchen when a truck backfired outside.
In the quiet of the early morning, it sounded like an explosion in a war zone. Jaye
jumped, and Raffles’s eyes flew open. The animal dove off the couch and onto the floor
in full defensive posture, her tail tucked doglike under her belly, her ears flattened
back against her skull and her hackles fully raised. Only these hackles were unlike
any Jaye had ever seen on cats or dogs. They were more like thin, fur-covered miniatures
of the upright plates that had once adorned the backs of certain dinosaurs. What’s
more, under normal circumstances they’d lain so flat against her body that Jaye hadn’t
noticed them at all.

Chapter 9

Jaye couldn’t make an appointment to see Dr. Harvey Gatwick, because the medical examiner
didn’t accept appointments, according to the squeaky-voiced receptionist who answered
his phone. After Jaye’s conversation with the ice queen in the sheriff’s office, she’d
decided to call the ME directly.

“Are you saying there are no provisions for a citizen who might want to speak to him
in person?” Jaye asked.

“I’m saying that we rarely get such requests from the public, but in the event that
we do, he’s instructed me to say ‘no.’”

“I understand, but it’s really important that I see him,” Jaye said, hoping there
was enough angst in her voice to be convincing. “Could you possibly ask him if he’d
spare a few minutes for me today or tomorrow?” She didn’t like groveling, but she
needed information, and the detectives on the case weren’t likely to answer her questions
now that she and Sierra were the main suspects in an official murder investigation.

“No,” the woman said bluntly, “he’s not the type of person who would change his mind.
Believe me, I’ve worked here for three years.” The subtext in her words was clear:
I wouldn’t even be here if I didn’t really need this job.

Since there was no point in harassing the woman, Jaye casually inquired what the ME’s
hours were. It was a perfectly reasonable question, given that her tax dollars paid
his salary.

“Nine to five,” the receptionist said readily, adding in a conspiratorial whisper,
“He goes for lunch at noon. But you should know, it’s not going to be pleasant.”

Jaye thanked her for the information and the warning, glad that she hadn’t taken her
frustration out on the woman. She’d learned the hard way that burning your bridges
was never a good idea. More than likely you’d find the need to cross them again someday.
Fate was funny that way.

At eleven o’clock, she closed the shop. Since it didn’t seem right to lock Raffles
in the apartment, she decided to leave the bedroom window unlocked. If the animal
needed or wanted to leave, she could, hopefully without attracting any unwanted attention.
Jaye was worried about her safety, but she and her friends were already doing what
they could to help her. They all had busy lives. The realization eased Jaye’s conscience
a bit, but not her spirit. She knew it wasn’t smart, but the not-a-cat was fast becoming
the pet she’d always longed for but never had.

Before locking up, she’d left a sign on the door saying she’d be back at two, in case
anyone preferred to wait for her rather than visit one of the other crystal shops.
Going to Prescott to corner Dr. Gatwick was first on her to-do list. She’d hit the
supermarket on her way home.

The ME’s receptionist was not at all how Jaye had pictured her. The squeaky voice
didn’t belong to a thin reed of a person but to a rather substantial one clad in a
pink floral dress that matched the rosy circles of blush on her cheeks. The nameplate
on the desk said her name was “Rhonda Crane.”

When Jaye introduced herself, Rhonda produced a bright smile and leaned across the
desk to offer her hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said in her oddly high-pitched voice.

Jaye shook her hand, causing the dozen or so bangles on Rhonda’s arm to jangle against
one another.

“Good timing, dear. Gatwick is still busy carving up bodies. Your best bet is to catch
him before he leaves the building. Once he’s in the parking lot, he’ll just ignore
you and hop in his car. Of course, he might ignore you in here too,” she murmured
as an afterthought.

Jaye thanked her and took a seat on the only other chair in the room, which felt as
if it were missing whatever padding it might have once had. From the impression she
had of Gatwick, courtesy of Rhonda, she could imagine him having had the stuffing
ripped out to discourage visitors from lingering there.

Fifteen minutes came and went before the ME burst through the door between his inner
sanctum and the reception area. He was tall and thin, with a sharp nose, wire-rimmed
glasses and a sparse layer of white hair doing its best to cover his scalp. He crossed
the small anteroom without so much as a glance in Jaye’s direction and was nearly
at the door to the hallway by the time Jaye cut him off.

“Excuse me, Dr. Gatwick,” she said blocking his escape route, “I have a quick question.”

The ME scowled at her. “I don’t do interviews.”

“I’m not a reporter. I just have a question about the Peggy Krueger autopsy.”

“She was murdered. If you’d watched the news, you could have saved yourself the trip
here. Now, please get out of my way.”

“I know she was murdered; that’s why I’m here,” Jaye said firmly, standing her ground.
“It will take less time to answer my questions than it will to argue about it.”

Gatwick shot Rhonda an “I’ll deal with you later” glare, before turning back to Jaye.
“What’s your interest in the case?”

“Her body was found on my friend’s property.” She’d decided not to mention that she
was the person who’d found Peggy.

“I see—your friend’s a suspect.”

“A person of interest.”

“Like I said—a suspect. I have no time or tolerance for modern word games. Now, if
you have a question, spit it out or get out of my way.”

“Did Peggy die where she was found, or was her body moved there after she was killed?”

“Are you the only person in America who doesn’t watch all the CSI crap on TV?” he
asked rhetorically. “If she was dumped there after she was killed, there wouldn’t
have been so much blood.”

“Because her heart would have stopped pumping?”

“Aren’t you the clever girl?”

Jaye wanted to put her fist into his smug face, but she talked herself out of it.
“And the blunt force trauma to the head was caused by . . .”

“A rock.”

“What type of rock?” Jaye asked, chancing another question.

“What difference does it make?” Gatwick sneered. “You a geologist or something?”

“Yes, I am,” she said, enjoying the startled expression that flashed across his face.
Over his shoulder she could see Rhonda grinning.

“In any case,” he said, quickly finding his voice again, “the particles I found in
her scalp came from decorative rock used in landscaping, not the kind of rock commonly
found in this area. And now if you don’t get out of my way this instant, I’m calling
security!”

***

Jaye arrived back home with six bags of groceries, a new personal best. She’d stocked
up on tuna, eggs and cheese, since she knew that Raffles would eat those items, along
with some hamburger meat to see if she fancied that as well. With no information on
the Internet about her species, feeding her was going to be a hit-or-miss proposition.

She let herself into the shop, turned off the alarm and carried three of the bags
upstairs to her apartment. No golden-furred creature was there to greet her at the
door, and on closer inspection, the love seats proved to be unoccupied. Jaye set the
bags down in the kitchen before going to look in the bedroom. The window was open.
The not-a-cat had gone out. Jaye was a little crestfallen. She’d been looking forward
to the animal’s reaction when she saw all the goodies. Had she bought it all for nothing?

As she went downstairs to get the rest of the bags out of her car, she told herself
Raffles would be back. After all, she’d come back before, hadn’t she? Jaye had the
three remaining bags in her hands and was using her hip to close the car door when
a gray sedan pulled into the parking lot. She realized who was in the car before it
swung into the spot next to her. Sedona’s crime fighting duo. Terrific—not only was
she scheduled to reopen her shop in ten minutes, but there was also the issue of the
not-a-cat, who might return at any moment.

The men emerged from the unmarked car simultaneously, looking much the same as they
had at their first encounter. Theo Brock’s suit hung awkwardly on his body. Cal Anastos
was all spit and polish.

“Hi, detectives,” she said as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “What can I
do for you?”

“We’d like to talk to you about Peggy Krueger,” Anastos replied. “We came by earlier,
but you were out.”

“As you can see, I was out shopping and running errands. Can we possibly postpone
our talk until later? I’ve already lost half a day’s business.” Plus she really wanted
to speak to Sierra about her visit to the ME before answering their questions.

Brock shook his head. “That won’t work for us.”

“We’ll make it as fast as we can,” Anastos added. “Let me help you with those.” Jaye
let him take two of the bags. Hey, if he wanted to play Sir Galahad, who was she to
deny him? As she led the way inside and up the stairs, a little mantra kept repeating
in her head—stay away, stay away, stay away. Now, if only Raffles could read minds.
Given how strange the animal was, she supposed anything was possible.

When they reached the apartment, Jaye stopped in the doorway and quickly scanned the
interior. The coast was clear. If the detectives were wondering why she hesitated
before walking in, they didn’t ask. They clearly had other, more important questions
on their minds.

Anastos followed Jaye into the kitchen, narrowly missing the bowl of water she’d left
on the floor for the not-a-cat. He set the bags on the table beside the others.

“You have a dog?” he asked.

“A cat who doesn’t think she’s a cat,” Jaye said for want of a better answer.

They chatted about the pros and cons of different pets while she put away the perishables.
Brock, who was standing just outside the kitchen, didn’t appear to have an opinion
on the subject. Once the refrigerator was stocked, the three of them filed into the
living room. It was almost as if the men had merely stopped by on a social call and
not to elicit a confession that would land her in jail.

Jaye offered the detectives the love seat that faced away from the bedroom while she
claimed the one across from them. If Raffles should suddenly appear in the bedroom
doorway, Jaye might have a few seconds to signal for her to hide. Of course, she had
no idea how she would actually accomplish that without also signaling to the cops
that something fishy was going on right behind their backs.

Brock reached into his office-in-a-pocket and withdrew a pad and a small, pink candle,
the type generally used on birthday cakes. “What the—?” He scowled at it as if expecting
an explanation about what it was doing in his jacket. Jaye had a theory about it,
but she didn’t plan to enlighten him.

“Wow,” she exclaimed instead, “and here I thought you forgot my birthday!” Judging
from Anastos’s face, he was having a hard time trying to choke back a laugh, but Brock
just glared at her. Okay, she really had to remember not to tease the detectives.

No doubt afraid he might still succumb to laughter if he opened his mouth, Anastos
offered up his own pen without a word. Brock accepted it and tossed the candle onto
the coffee table. “I imagine you’ve heard that it’s official now,” he said, loosening
the knot of his tie. “Peggy was murdered.”

“Yes,” Jaye replied. She knew that and more, but if the ME hadn’t told them about
her little trip to Prescott, she didn’t see any reason to bring it up.

“How well do you know Sierra?” Anastos asked in the same casual way he’d been talking
about dogs and cats.

“Like a sister.”

“Would you lie like a sister to protect her?” Brock followed up.

“She would never do anything to put me in that position.”

“For argument’s sake, let’s say she did. Would you lie to protect her?”

Jaye knew the correct answer was “no,” but she had a strong hunch that it might not
be true. “Of course not,” she said with all the conviction she could muster. Way to
go, Jaye, she thought. They’d been questioning her for all of a minute, and she was
already lying.

“Did Sierra murder Peggy?” Anastos asked so bluntly that she was taken aback. She
scrambled to answer before they could misinterpret her hesitation. “Absolutely not.”
She was pleased with how strong and certain she sounded.

“Then you were with Sierra that entire day?” Brock inquired.

“Well, no, we were working in our own shops.” Uh-oh, if she wasn’t more careful, she’d
protect Sierra and herself right into adjoining cells.

“Then you can’t be sure what Sierra did all day while you were working, can you?”

“People are constantly going into her bakery. If you ask around, I’m sure you’ll find
that she was there all day.”

“Being detectives and all, we figured that out too,” Brock said dryly. “And guess
what? It seems she left the bakery for more than an hour that morning.”

Jaye was surprised. Sierra had never mentioned it to her. Still, she was sure that
her friend had a perfectly good explanation for her absence. She might have run out
of sugar or needed to do some banking that couldn’t wait. Something as mundane as
that wouldn’t even qualify for a footnote on a day when you’d come home to find a
dead body in your yard. In any case, Jaye was sure there was a reasonable explanation.

“Let me explain how this works,” Anastos said, no longer quite so amiable. “Sooner
or later one of you is going to decide to make a deal with us. If Sierra reaches that
point first, you’re going down for the murder. I know you don’t think anything can
come between ‘sisters,’ but it’s been my experience that doubt inevitably rears its
ugly head and someone breaks.”

“I understand,” Jaye replied smoothly, “but I believe that theory only works if at
least one of the ‘sisters’ is actually guilty.” She was giving herself a virtual pat
on the back for keeping her cool when Raffles appeared in the bedroom doorway.