Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
A sigh. Footsteps. A soft snick. Alone again. Conrad’s mind whirled. Tiffany Hotchkins, Emma Miller, and Anthony Miller remained strong people of interest. But so did many—many—others. The doctor had helped destroy a myriad of families, yet he’d also seemed genuinely obsessed with his treasure hunt. But who had aided his search?
Did Jane know about the Order of Seven stuff? Had she beefed up security as promised? Conrad really should check in on her. What wild things would the gravekeeper’s say today? And she was right. He did regret not eating those blueberry pancakes when he’d had the chance.
His stomach twisted with sudden hunger. He was in the process of standing, intending to grab a blueberry muffin from the breakroom, when his cell rang. The screen flashed the name Jane Ladling, and he flopped back down, already grinning.
His voice dipped as he answered, “Special Agent Ryan.”
“Hi. Hello. I was calling to see if you’ve interviewed Tiffany Hotchkins. The wife.” The words burst from her in a continuous stream, never giving him a chance to respond. “Tiffany is certain her husband had an affair with tons of locals. Abigail Waynes-Kirkland might or might not have been one of those women. Apparently, Dr. Hotchkins gave, um, vitamin D injections in exam rooms. Um…you know what that means right? Anyway, most of the women are single, but some are married. You’ll want to investigate their spouses too probably. I have a list of names and descriptions.” Something crackled over the line. A piece of paper she held?
Laughter brewed on his tongue. Vitamin D injections, spoken with her sweet, southern drawl. She could not be more adorable. He couldn’t help but tease her, “Jane Ladling?”
“Right. Sorry.” She audibly winced. “Yes, this is Jane Ladling. Why don’t I start over?” Deep breath in. Out. “Have you interviewed Dr. Hotchkins’s wife? Or her friend, Abigail Waynes-Kirkland?”
Well, well, well. Talk about instant clarity for Conrad. Jane was a hardcore Hallmark fanatic, wasn’t she? Ready to live her own small-town adventure or something similar. The quirky gravekeeper turned amateur sleuth. A story he now kind of really wanted to watch. He was only ashamed to admit he hadn’t figured out the truth sooner. All the clues had been there. The unconventional setting. Her fellow offbeat cast of characters, including an older grandmother type and a beloved pet with quirks of his own.
For her safety, Conrad had better nip this plotline in the bud and share as little as possible. “I’m currently pursuing several people of interest. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Am I still one of those people?”
Ding, ding, ding. Amateur sleuth out to clear her good name. And why—how!—did this rouse even more delight in him?
Words rolled from his tongue, low and throaty. “There’s definite interest in you here at the bureau, Jane.”
A strangled sound left her, as if she didn’t quite understand his meaning. Then a new burst of information spewed from her. “There’s something else you should know. Dr. Hotchkins’s nurse may or may not be one of the women who may or may not have had an affair with him. I’m not sure yet.”
“Yet?” He’d nipped nothing, apparently. The idea of Jane deliberately putting herself in the path of a killer prodded his deepest protective instincts. Time to get stern. “Do not question anyone or dig into the case, Jane. That’s my job. Do you understand?”
She sputtered for a moment. “Look, you missed a wild scene at the Hotchkins’s house this morning. Tiffany accused everyone of sleeping with her husband. Emma Miller, his nurse, rushed out crying and sped away. I even heard that Dr. Hotchkins argued with his staff the day before his murder. Don’t you find that the tiniest bit suspicious?”
The sleuth is strong in this one.
Had Mrs. Miller lied about sleeping with Dr. Hotchkins or not? A question for later. Right now, Conrad needed to deal with Jane. Maybe he should shine the light of guilt on her, forcing her to back down? “What I find suspicious is your visit to the widow of a victim found on your property. A man you claim you’ve never spoken with. Why would you do that?”
“Because it’s polite.” Her scolding tone should not delight him. No, it definitely should not. “I didn’t know the doctor, but I went to high school with Tiffany.” A cat screamed bloody murder in the background. “Someone has to solve the crime, put a murderer away, and clear the good names of the innocent.”
Nope, shining the light of guilt on her had been the worst route imaginable. “That’s right. Someone has to, and it’s me. Trust me on this. I’m working as fast as humanly possible.”
“Everyone needs help now and then,” she told him with the firm but merciful tone of a patient teacher with an unruly grade school student, “and you could certainly use mine. You wouldn’t have this lead about Dr. Hot’s nurse without me. You’re welcome, by the way.”