Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Jigsaw
My feisty lady death.
Fuck, I love her.
She has no idea how much I wanted to punch Ulfric the second I saw him standing too close.
Not based on anything logical.
He wasn’t leering at her. Wasn’t crowding her space in a way that set off alarms.
Didn’t matter.
Something primal and stupid in me still wanted to knock him back a step. Thankfully, I didn’t since that would’ve been the exact opposite of what Wrath asked me to come out here and do. Offer support. And try to find out exactly how many Wolf Knights will be coming into town.
Ulfric was too smart to fall for that when I offered the clubhouse for his guests. At least I tried.
“Why are you really mad?” I ask Margot. It can’t just be because I walked up and kissed her cheek.
“I’m not mad.” She huffs and brushes a stray curl out of her eyes. “I just…he mentioned your club and I felt awkward not saying that I…that we…I don’t know. It felt like a weird conflict of interest.”
“You embarrassed to be with me?”
“No!” she shouts, then sends a sneaky glance around as if someone might be watching. “Whisper’s daughter has…strong opinions about her father’s club. Ulfric was just trying to reassure me there wouldn’t be any issues. I felt weird not saying, ‘yeah, I know, my boyfriend is a member.’ That’s all.”
I’ve never had a “professional” job like hers, but I think I understand what she’s saying. “You realize it was going to come up eventually, though, right? Better now than at the service.”
She glares at me.
I give her a smug smile in return. “It’s okay. You don’t have to agree with me. We both know I’m right.”
“Ugh.” She clenches her fists like she’s physically restraining herself from smacking me, then stomps up the front stairs.
Laughing, I follow behind her. My smugness dies a quick death when we cross the threshold and run into Mr. Cedarwood.
Margot stops, absolutely rigid. I just avoid slamming into her back.
“Jensen.” His usually somber face actually flexes into a smile. “I was hoping that was your bike I heard.”
You were?
I straighten my shoulders. “It was me,” I answer like a doofus.
Mr. Cedarwood nods, his assessing gaze lingering on me for a beat too long, like he’s working something out in his head. “Did you run into Ulfric outside?”
“Our clubs are friendly. Have been for years.” I pause, then choose my next words carefully. “Wrath asked me to check in, see if he needs anything.”
His gaze stays fixed on me. “Well, Mr. Hall had a long list of items. It’s going to keep Margot busy for several days.”
Margot’s placid expression shifts to outrage.
Wait, is this his polite way of telling me to get lost?
His gaze flickers to Margot then back to me. “One request was a bit unusual. I was hoping you could assist Margot with it? We have another case that’s…stalled and?—”
“Yeah, of course,” I answer, relieved there’s something I can do to help Margot.
“Wonderful.” His gaze shifts to Margot. “I’m sure you know which item I’m talking about.”
“Well, I assume it’s not the floral arrangements.”
What am I getting myself into? Did Whisper request a gaggle of strippers to gyrate over his grave or something?
“You can use my office. I need to run out for a bit,” Cedarwood says. He reaches out and pats my shoulder. “Thank you, Jensen.”
“No problem, sir.”
Margot sighs as she watches her dad stride down the hall to the back door. “Come on.”
Once the door closes behind Mr. Cedarwood, I slide my arm around Margot’s waist and let my hand stray to her ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Tell me what you need.”
She slants an exasperated but affectionate look my way. “Have you ever seen a Harley Funeral Chopper?”
“Now we’re talking.” I clap my hands and rub them together. “I’ll make some calls.”
Margot
I settle into my father’s chair behind his desk and go through my list of vendors.
Jigsaw’s on the couch, legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, phone pressed to his ear.
The contrast between his rough-cut biker energy and my father’s neat, methodical workspace shouldn’t work. But he somehow fits right in. I thought he’d be annoyed at my father imposing on him. Instead, he’s eager to get started.
“What’s up, Steer?” he speaks into his phone. “Yeah, of course we miss you.” He flicks his gaze to the ceiling.
I open my laptop and log into one of our vendor accounts. I might as well start with the smaller items that aren’t as time sensitive until we figure out the vehicle situation.
I glance over at him as he laughs into the phone, the deep, warm sound curling through the room.
“No, brother, I don’t need it for myself,” he says, amusement lacing his voice. “You’ve seen them before, though, right?”
I bite back a smile.
His hand lazily drags over his jaw as he listens, his gaze landing on me every so often. He raises an eyebrow or smiles at me every time our eyes meet.
It’s distracting. But I like it.
He ends the call and scratches out some notes on a pad of paper.
“Find anything?” I ask.
“Sort of. Our charter in Tennessee can get one easily but that’s going to be a pain in the ass and probably really expensive to ship here. But one of the guys down there knows of a place in Vermont, so I’m going to try them next.”
“Great. Vermont will be a lot easier.” I stand and walk around to his side. “Thank you. This is a big help.”
“You got it.” He curls one arm around my legs and drags me closer, until I topple into his lap. “Only payment I need is a kiss from you.”
I press my lips against his bristly cheek. “I’ll give a lot more than that later,” I whisper in his ear.
“I’ll happily accept.” He turns, catching my lips.
The chime of the front doorbell echoes through the house.
Frowning, I slide out of his lap. “You think Ulfric came back?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Got me. You don’t have any other appointments today?”
I check the small black-and-white video monitor with a wide view of the front porch. Two men in suits peer up at the camera, then glance at the door.
It’s not the same men who questioned me about Laurel. But they definitely look like cops.
My stomach plummets to the floor.
“Margot, what’s wrong?” Jigsaw’s concerned voice pulls me away from the screen.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “They look like cops.”
He leans down, staring at the screen. “Fuck.”
In a matter of seconds, his entire demeanor shifts. My relaxed, cocky biker trying to cop a feel—gone. Replaced by this protective, watchful, dangerous man.
He rests his hands on my upper arms. “All right. Relax. You’re fine.” He glances at the screen again. “Are those the same cops from last time?”
“No.” I shake my head.
“Good. Do you want me to answer the door?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I shake my head. “Do you?”
He runs his hand through his hair, clearly torn between wanting to protect me and wanting to keep our relationship away from the police.
“I’ll be right in here. Bring them into the parlor so I can overhear the conversation.” He pauses. “This time if they ask if anyone’s here, just say yes, your boyfriend. My bike’s right out front. They’re going to figure it out eventually.”
“Okay.” I nod quickly.
The doorbell chimes again.
“Go,” he urges.
I hurry to the front door and slowly open it a fraction. Two men in dark blazers stand on the porch. “Hello? Can I help you?”
“Are you Margot Cedarwood?”
My stomach tightens.
“Yes. How can I help you?” I stare at the two men. One older with cartoonishly bushy eyebrows, making him look like a runaway from the Muppets. The other one’s younger and more polished—his eyebrows impeccably waxed and shaped. What an interesting duo.
The younger one—smooth brows—flashes a badge at me. “Investigator Thomas with the Empire Police Department.”
I unclench about fifty percent. The other officers were from Slater County. I haven’t killed anyone in Empire, have I?
“…My partner,” Mr. Thomas finishes. I missed the name of his partner. Damn.
“How can I help you?” I ask, opening the door wider.
“Do you know a Daniel Muldoon?” the smooth-browed detective asks.
Annoyance immediately twists in my chest. “Unfortunately.”
Shoot, why’d I have to say it like that? What if Daniel’s dead or something? I’ll be their number one suspect.
Creaking over the floorboards behind me draws my attention. I glance over my shoulder.
Did Jigsaw kill Daniel after I explicitly asked him not to ?
The older cop raises his bushy eyebrows. “You were romantically involved?”
“Yes,” I answer more respectfully this time. “Engaged, actually.”
“Who ended it?” Thomas asks.
“I did.” I frown. “Why are you asking me about Daniel?”
The younger cop tilts his head, peering past me into the foyer. “Can we come in?”
Refusing will make me look suspicious.
“I suppose.” I open the door wider and step back. “Let’s talk in here.”
I lead them into the parlor. They settle onto the couch, while I perch on the edge of a chair, my posture deliberate—poised, alert, in control. Like I might have to jump up and attend to business any moment now.
The smooth-browed detective leans back, crossing one ankle over his knee. “Can you tell us more about your relationship with Mr. Muldoon?”
“I already told you. We were engaged. I broke it off. There is no current relationship.”
The older detective nods, tapping a thick finger against his knee. “But you arranged his grandmother’s funeral here, correct?”
“Yes.” My voice tightens. “Well, he called my father to arrange it, but I ended up handling most of the preparations for Mrs. O’Leary.”
“How would you describe their relationship?”
A chill slides over my skin, sweeping away my annoyance. I sit up straighter and clasp my hands in my lap. “From what I remember, it was…cordial. Mrs. O’Leary was a very nice woman. Daniel was…respectful…”
“Respectful?” Thomas asks. “Not affectionate?”
I snort and look away. “Daniel’s not an affectionate person.”
“Is that why you broke up?” the older detective presses.
I stare him dead in the eyes. “Has something happened to Daniel?”
The older man’s eyes widen. “No. No. He’s fine.”
I blow out a breath. I may hate Daniel, but I don’t wish death on him, and I certainly don’t want the cops thinking I murdered him. “So, what is this about?”
“Why did you break up?” he asks again.
I smooth my hands over the arms of the chair, the soft, worn velvet grounding me. “We weren’t compatible. He was very… critical of me. And I grew tired of it.”
“Was he abusive?” Muppet-Brows asks.
I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. “Not physically, no. But he could be vicious with his words. I didn’t want to stick around and find out if the behavior would escalate to physical violence one day.”
Thomas studies me, his expression carefully blank.
Muppet-Brows nods approvingly. “Smart woman.”
I dip my chin in response.
“How about a Mrs. Penny? Do you know her?”
I stiffen, my pulse stuttering. “We recently handled her funeral. Why?”
The older detective nods. “Daniel attended the service, correct?”
Unfortunately.
My mouth moves before my brain catches up. “Yes.”
The older cop leans in, crowding his partner. “Did you speak to him?”
“Yes.”
“About what?”
I grit my teeth, remembering the awful conversation. Then bite my cheek to stop from grinning when I remember Jigsaw and Rooster scaring the crap out of Daniel. “Normal catching up stuff at first. But then he wanted to talk about getting back together.”
“But you said he was critical of you.”
“Yes. And I reminded him of that fact when I told him absolutely not.”
Muppet Cop grins so wide, I feel bad for referring to him as Muppet Cop in my head.
“Did he say he’d changed?” younger cop asks.
I snort a laugh. “No. He didn’t understand what my problem was.” I rub the arms of the chair again. “But I finally got a few things off of my chest. Overall, it was an unpleasant conversation. My boyfriend walked in on the tail end of it and told him to leave.”
“So, you’re seeing someone?”
“Yes.”
Investigator Thomas opens a small notepad and clicks a ballpoint pen. “And his name?”
“I don’t see any reason to bring him into this.”
The cop’s pen hits his notepad with a soft clunk. His jaw works but he doesn’t seem to be able to come up with a good enough reason I should give him a name.
“Did Daniel react violently to being told to leave?” he asks.
I snort even harder. “No, he reacted like all bullies act when faced with someone bigger than they are. He scurried out like a roach who’d had the overhead lights turned on.”
The older cop nods again, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I seem to be confirming a lot of opinions he’s made about Daniel.
The younger cop doesn’t seem to find me as entertaining. I wipe the smirk off my face and pretend their questions aren’t a waste of my time.
“Do you know a Mrs. Ellen Baker?” the younger cop asks.
Surprise drops my jaw for a moment.
“I do,” I answer slowly. “We were contacted by her family to take her into our care and have a service for her. I had the consultation with her niece earlier this week. But we’ve run into a snag at the M.E.’s office.”
“Are you aware Daniel is the one who recommended your funeral home to the Bakers?” Investigator Thomas asks.
My heart stops.
What?
I blink and sit back. “No, I wasn’t. My father did the intake for that case. He didn’t mention Daniel had anything to do with it. The niece didn’t mention him when we spoke.”
That’s the third client Daniel’s sent our way this year.
And the police are here to ask me about it.
Holy shit!
The older detective exhales slowly, watching me carefully. “That’s the third client in the past year that Daniel has directed to your funeral home,” he says, echoing my thoughts.
My heart pounds.
“How much do you know about Daniel’s job?” the older cop asks.
“Uh, not much, honestly. He manages money for people. Retirement accounts, I think? He was always after my father to invest with him.”
“Did he?”
“Not to my knowledge.” My father may have been okay with Daniel as a son-in-law, but he didn’t trust him with his money. “Daniel wanted to manage money for me, as well. Kept trying to tell me how much I could earn if I started young. It all seemed too complicated, though.”
“Is that all?”
I purse my lips, thinking over my answer and the gut instinct I always had when Daniel harped on me about investing with his firm— No. “I might not have seen his behavior as abusive right away, but I guess I subconsciously knew he wasn’t right for me. I didn’t trust him to invest my money.”
“Did that make him angry?”
“Yes,” I answer, a surprising flood of memories washing over me. “If he wasn’t criticizing my appearance, he criticized my intellect.”
“You seem like a very bright young woman to me,” older cop says.
“Thank you.”
“Is it possible he referred these last two clients to your funeral home as a way to get back into your good graces?” younger cop asks.
I blow out a long, thoughtful breath. “I doubt it. I mean… referring someone to us makes sense. His grandmother’s funeral was here. If someone needed a recommendation, we’d be the first name he thought of. We appreciate the business, of course. But I really can’t say why he’d recommend us.”
“Maybe to convince your father to talk you into getting back together with him?” the cop suggests.
“That seems a bit far-fetched.” I hesitate. Daniel did say he spoke to my father about us getting back together.
Investigator Thomas uncrosses his legs and sits forward. “What’s wrong, Ms. Cedarwood?”
“Uh, yes. Actually, Daniel said he spoke to my father and my father told him to speak to me.” I shrug. “My father knows I’m seeing someone else.”
The night my father handed Jigsaw the keys to his Cadillac springs to mind, along with a few other interactions they’ve had but I don’t want to share any of that with the police. “He wouldn’t try to interfere in my love life. Daniel should’ve known that.”
The older one stares at me, then casually slides his gaze to his partner. “And were you aware that both Mrs. Penny and Mrs. Baker had sizable estate funds managed by Mr. Muldoon’s firm? Not to mention his grandmother’s estate.”
My blood runs cold.
I barely stop myself from gasping. My fingers dig into the velvet arms of my chair.
“No,” I force out.
Muppet-Brows gives me a measured look. “That doesn’t strike you as… unusual?”
My pulse roars in my ears.
“I…I don’t know. They were both elderly…” My gaze strays to the other side of the parlor. “Unfortunately, I see so much death. I’m not a good judge of what might be considered unusual .”
The older cop nods slowly. “I can understand that, Ms. Cedarwood.”
The younger cop scribbles something in his notebook. Then, without looking up, he says, “Do you think Mr. Muldoon is capable of harming someone for financial gain?”
The question punches the air from my lungs.
They suspect Daniel murdered these women.
“I—” My gut is screaming yes . His lack of empathy and compassion. The way he could tear me apart with so many cruel words. The way he talked about money like it was the only thing that mattered.
“I don’t know if I’m the best person to ask. I told you we didn’t have a good relationship.”
The older cop’s eyes narrow. “That wasn’t your first answer, was it? What’s your gut reaction.”
“Daniel’s a jerk,” I whisper. “I…I want to say no he wouldn’t harm anyone, but…I really don’t know.”
The older detective nods slowly. Like he expected that answer.
“Thank you for your time, Ms. Cedarwood,” he says, standing.
I barely register them moving toward the door.
Is Daniel capable of murder?
Not just murder, but preying on three innocent, elderly women for something as banal as money? When he already comes from a wealthy family?
Yes, I think he is.