“Saying Nobel is odd is putting it mildly,” I said, now angry at him for using such a horrifying method to protect his property.
“It makes sense. He’s too far away to respond to any alarm that might be triggered from someone breaking in. So are the police. I’d like to leave now. How about you?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
With the statement in my pocket, we sprinted back out through the kitchen’s sliding door. Once outside, away from the imaginary dogs, I took a deep breath. I had an inkling that I might laugh about the dog recording someday, but that day wasn’t going to be this one.
“Should we go talk to Nobel?” Betsy asked as we came back around to the front of the house.
“Absolutely,” I said again. I wanted to talk to him even more now, as well as smell him.
I didn’t know if Betsy noticed that I had pocketed the statement. My plan was to get it to Sam as soon as Betsy and I finished talking to Nobel. I’d make a fast trip to Bistro and then get back to Monson with whatever else I learned.
“Follow me.” Betsy got in her car just as my phone buzzed.
“Sam?” I said as I answered.
“Where are you?” he asked. “Can you talk freely?” His voice was firm but strained.
“I’m outside Monson.” It wasn’t a lie. “And, yes, go ahead.”
“Allison’s here visiting with your parents, and she told me that you and Betsy Francis stopped by the market. Are you still with her?”
“Yes.”
“Can you get away from her?” he asked.
She was sitting in her car, waiting as I took the call.
“Why?” I asked.
“Becca, we’ve come across information that Betsy drove Joan to the market the day she was killed. No one saw them leave together, but the assumption is that they did and that she was with Joan at your farm. She was here this morning. She left me something that leads me to be more than a little suspicious of her actions. Can you get away from her?” he repeated.
I looked around again. Other than Betsy, there wasn’t another soul in sight. She had led me out here, but she hadn’t seemed threatening. In fact, there were a number of moments when she could have done something to me without anyone knowing. She’d had easy access to knives. She hadn’t killed me yet, but if she’d been the one to transport Joan, there was a chance that she was the killer. I was more disappointed about that idea than I thought I might be. Of course, I wanted the killer to be someone other than my mother, but I was beginning to kind of like Betsy. Besides, after the barking alarm, I’d set my sights on Nobel being the bad guy. However, the fact that those sights that had been set on him because of Betsy’s input was probably suspicious.
“Yeah, I can. I’ll meet you back at the station. I left a message for Ian,” I said. I closed the phone and hoped he got what I was saying; if for some reason I didn’t make it back to the station, I’d left a message giving Ian a more specific idea of where I’d gone.
“Change of plans,” I said to Betsy. “I’ve got to head back to Monson. My mom needs me for something.” It was a lame excuse, but how could anyone possibly argue with someone whose mother needed them, even if that mother was incarcerated?
“Uh, okay, sure. Come by the restaurant later if you want to,” Betsy said.
“Thanks, Betsy, for everything,” I said graciously, just in case she was the killer and she valued good manners.
“You’re welcome.”
I got in my truck, thanked the powers that be that it always started easily and put it into gear. Betsy signaled for me to go first. I steered off the property, down the bumpy road, and back to the state highway. There wasn’t much traffic, but Betsy stayed off the state highway as I headed straight toward Monson. Maybe she was making a call or something? After a car passed in front of her and was in the position behind me, she pulled out—going the same way I was going.
If I hadn’t received the call from Sam, I wouldn’t have been watching her in my rearview mirror. She was going the opposite direction of Bistro. She had to know that the one car in between us wasn’t doing much to hide her. She also knew that if a high-speed chase occurred, her car would leave my truck in the dust. I kept rolling down the road, wondering what was going on but anxious to get back to the parking spot in front of the county building. There was a good ten minutes of wide-open state highway in front of me and only a Kia in between me and a potential killer, but I wasn’t as concerned as I was curious.
I was relieved to pull into the same spot I’d left from. This time, Allison’s car was in the spot that Betsy had previously parked in and Sam was standing at the top of the stairs.
Betsy had followed me all the way back to town. She was parked around the corner, but I could still see her.
“Betsy followed me back,” I said casually as I joined Sam. “She’s parked over there.” I subtly nodded with my head.
“I see. I’ll send Vivienne out to see what’s going on. Let’s get inside.”
Sam and I hurried up the inside stairs and into the police station offices. Allison and Aldous were sitting next to Sam’s desk, discussing something. After Sam instructed Officer Norton to explore what Betsy was up to, I pulled out the statement and handed it to Sam.
“This is a statement for the Central South Carolina Restaurant Association. It’s not itemized. I stole it. Is there any way you could demand the bank to give you something that’s itemized?
Sam, Allison, and Aldous stared at me for a moment.
“Where did you get this?” Sam asked.
“Hang on,” Aldous said as he stood. “I don’t want to hear this. Excuse me a moment.”
Once Aldous was out of earshot, I took a deep breath. I could have told Allison and Sam the truth; a part of me wanted to. But Sam was still a police officer, and it was his job to enforce the law. I decided not to put him in a compromising position.
“Nobel Ashworth, Joan’s son, is in charge of the bank account for the association. Sam, can you get a better record?”
He shook his head. “Not without a subpoena. And I don’t have any good reason to ask for a subpoena.”
Allison looked at me and then at Sam. “Now that I know which bank it is, I can,” she said as she stood. “Give it to me. I’ll be back as quickly as possible.”
Neither Sam nor I argued as Allison took the statement and left, her dark ponytail swinging with her brisk pace. Allison knew everyone, and everyone knew and respected her. She’d never take advantage of that respect unless it meant freeing her husband, son, mother, father, or maybe even me from jail.
“You don’t want to give me the details of how you obtained that statement?” Sam asked.
“No.”
“Fair enough.”
I thought the next time I saw Sam, the air would be filling with anxious embarrassment over the kiss I inflicted on him. I was wrong, and he was true to his word. He was acting as though it never happened, and I was grateful.
Aldous rejoined us. “Sam was just about to tell me something. What was it, Sam?”
“Gus has run everyone’s fingerprints. We’ve got nothing.” Sam pointed at his computer. “Everyone is clean as clean can be. I’ve never known a group of people to show so little to no criminal activity.”
“Damn,” I said.
“Gus agrees with me, though, about the odd placement of the fingerprints on the knife. We’re waiting for a report from Charleston.”
“What would it mean if an expert agrees with you? Would Mom be released?” I asked.
“Only if we can convince the prosecution to drop the charges based upon the findings. If not, we make sure we get the expert to testify at the trial. We just need reasonable doubt. I think the print formation shows that,” Aldous answered for him.
“Good, good,” I muttered, hoping for something else, something that would keep it from going to trial at all. Yes, there might be reasonable doubt, but you could never tell what a jury would think or do.
“Becca, we’re getting there. One step at a time,” Sam said.
Suddenly, the door to the station swung open hard and slammed against the wall. Officer Vivienne Norton had, presumably, opened the door with a hard kick. She was wrangling a much smaller, much less muscled Betsy.
“Seriously, you are a beast,” Betsy screeched to Vivienne.
Little did she know, this was a compliment to the weightlifting police officer. Vivienne Norton was proud of her muscles and the power they gave her. She smiled as she directed Betsy to Sam’s desk.
“Am I under arrest?” she demanded when Vivienne released the vice grip she had on the smaller woman’s wrist.
“No,” Sam said. “Perhaps there’s been some misunderstanding.” Sam looked at Vivienne, who lifted her eyebrows in mock innocence. “But perhaps you could answer a couple questions while you’re here.”
Betsy’s face was flushed. She looked at Sam and then at me. She was probably wondering how much I’d told Sam about our trespassing and thievery incident from about half an hour ago. I tried to keep my face neutral.
“I told you everything I know earlier.”
“I have more questions.”
“What?”
“Have a seat.” Sam directed. She sat next to me but far enough away that it didn’t feel like we were together. Aldous sat on my other side. He wasn’t going to miss a minute of whatever was about to happen now.
“Betsy, it’s come to my attention that you drove Joan to the Bailey’s Farmers’ Market on the day she was killed. Is that correct?” Sam said.
“Yes,” she said. Her eye twitched.
“Did she leave with you as well?” Sam asked.
Betsy deflated, her shoulders suddenly slumped forward. “Yes,” she said quietly.
“And where did the two of you go?”
“I guess you had to find out sooner or later. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand.” She folded quickly.
“Telling me now would be good.” Sam sat back in his chair, his ice blue eyes staring at Betsy. He would listen to what she said, but he would also inspect her every move as she spoke. He’d look for signs she was lying or perhaps hiding something.
But she wasn’t scared, despite how she’d just reacted. She sat up straighter and showed a resolve that must have been building inside her.
“I’ve done nothing wrong, except not tell you what I did do, which was nothing wrong.”
I swallowed an urge to laugh, but I followed Sam’s lead and kept my face steely still.
“Okay, yes, I drove Joan to the market. I wasn’t even supposed to be going. She knocked on my door and woke me up. She said that she changed her mind and wanted me there. She was acting unlike herself.”
“In what way?” Sam interrupted.
Betsy shrugged. “She was nervous. She was never nervous. That morning, it seemed like she didn’t want to be by herself . . . until . . .” Betsy shook her head and seemed to become distracted by her own thoughts.
Sam sat forward. “Betsy, I need you to focus and tell me what happened.”
Betsy looked at Sam with teary eyes and nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I just keep thinking that she’d still be here if I hadn’t . . . Anyway, I drove her to the market and we left together. She had me drive her to Becca’s farm . . .”
“Wait, why?” Sam asked.
“Because I told her she should.” Betsy’s eyes were brimming with tears as she looked at me. “After the incident at the market and while everyone else looked at products, Jake pulled me aside and told me that you were part of such a great family. He told me I should take her by your farm so she could see your amazing place—your kitchen. He said it was something to behold and that you make the finest jams and preserves around. He thought he was helping. He thought if she saw your place, she’d be kinder to you. He gave me your address.”
Betsy sniffed and then looked at Sam. “She agreed, but on the way, she kept looking at the mirrors and out the back of the car. No one was following us—literally, no one. There wasn’t another vehicle in sight. I asked her what she was doing. She said, ‘Nothing.’ When we got to your farm, we both got out of the car and started to walk toward the barn, but then she told me to go away for an hour or so.”
“Why?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know, but I did as she asked. I left.”
“Where did you go?” Sam asked doubtfully.
“Just back to town. I went to Jake’s and had a soda. I don’t have a receipt, but I sat with Viola. She could confirm I was there,” Betsy said. She knew Sam was having a hard time with her story.
“You went back to Becca’s after an hour, though?” he said.
“Yes, but no one was there. I should say that I didn’t see anyone. I didn’t see . . . I didn’t see the dog, though. The dog had been there when I dropped Joan off. The dog was gone, and that worried me.”
“But not enough to call the police?” Sam said.
I was attempting to keep a surge of anger under control. Hobbit was my family, and though her disappearance was enough to throw me into a panic, other people wouldn’t necessarily feel the same way. I thought they should, but it wasn’t the right time to make that point.
“No. It was a dog. Dogs roam.”
Sam gave me a glance that said, “Not now,” before he said, “Did you explore the area at all? Did you get out of the car?”
“No. I felt wrong being there in the first place. I thought Joan must have had someone else pick her up. Nobel had driven separately. I thought maybe she was with him. Actually, I was angry at her at that point. I left and drove home, got ready, and then went to work. When Joan wasn’t there, I got worried.”
“You didn’t think you should call the police at that point?” Sam asked.
“It crossed my mind, but—and this seems like a bad decision now—I didn’t want to cause a big scene for the wrong reason. I didn’t think of the possibility that she might be dead! I thought I would talk to Nobel when he got to work, but we were busy by the time he got there. I didn’t have time to talk to him, and then we heard . . . heard about her death.”
Sam was about to say something else when the station door flew open again. Allison burst through the doorway and held a small stack of papers in her hands.