Chapter 16
The question flustered him. “I was at home with my wife,” he said with emphasis.
"We’ll need to speak with her in a minute, but I've got questions for you first," I said.
“It's my understanding that you were close to the deceased,” I said, putting it delicately.
His face tightened. Dalton stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him. He didn’t want his wife to hear this conversation. In a hushed voice, he said, "I don't know what you mean by close, but I knew Hannah rather well. She was a prominent figure in our community.”
"It’s my understanding you two were having an affair.”
He swallowed again and glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot. "That was a long time ago. My wife is fully aware of my past indiscretion, and we have moved on,” he whispered. “As you can imagine, it's a sore subject and one I would prefer not to rehash.”
"A long time ago?" I said, about to drop the hammer.
"Yes, I haven't been with Hannah intimately in quite a long time now.”
"Is that why you two were exchanging naughty text messages at all hours of the night over the last few weeks?” Isabella’s intel had come through again.
Dalton's face went pale, and he swallowed hard. "How do you know that?”
"I know a lot of things. So how about you stop bullshitting me, and let's have an honest discussion?”
Dalton gave another cautious look around. Through a tight jaw, he said, "Okay, yes. We may have rekindled certain aspects of our friendship.”
"Friendship?” I said in a doubtful tone.
"Look, I don't know how to describe it, but Hannah had certain qualities. I just couldn't say no to her. Believe me, I tried. I wanted to be a good husband. Now, if you don't mind, can we stop talking about this before my wife overhears?”
"When was the last time you saw Hannah?”
Dalton shifted uncomfortably. He looked around again for his wife and said quietly, "We hooked up a few days ago, okay? I really don't see what this has to do with anything. Certainly not her death. Drudging up our affair is not going to bring Hannah back.”
"Did she blackmail you?"
His brow knitted with confusion. “Why would she blackmail me?”
“You’re a judge in the competition, aren’t you?”
“Yes, what has that got to do with anything?”
“By all accounts, Hannah was competitive. She wanted to win.”
He scoffed. “Hannah never blackmailed me about the competition.” Dalton paused. “She did threaten to tell my wife if I stopped sleeping with her, but I think she was joking.”
He gave it serious consideration, then dismissed the notion.
"Did you vote for Hannah's pumpkin in last year's competition?”
He squirmed. "Yes, but it was objectively the best pumpkin."
"Are you sure your judgment wasn't colored?”
"I am fair and impartial.”
I didn’t buy it for an instant.
Something flashed behind his eyes, and Dalton’s brow knitted as he thought. "You don't think she started sleeping with me just for the pumpkin contest, do you?”
I gave a halfhearted shrug to say, yeah, I think it's exactly why she started sleeping with you.
The thought bothered him. His ego was crushed.
"You know she was blackmailing the other judges, don't you?”
Lost in thought for a moment, his eyes snapped back to me. "I know she was… Well, there's this thing with Blair."
"We know.”
He looked surprised. "Word travels fast.”
“We’re good at what we do," Jack said.
“I don't think her fiancé would be too thrilled if he found out about Lexi Luscious,” Dalton said.
"Just might be a motive for murder," I said.
Dalton paused for a second. "When you talk to my wife, you aren’t bringing this up, are you?”
“I just need to confirm your alibi.”
"You gotta understand, I love my wife. Hannah and I just had this thing.” His eyes pleaded for sympathy. "I swear, I didn't kill her. I would never do that.”
It was about that time when his wife came to the door. She poked her head out and looked on with curiosity. "Is everything okay?”
Dalton put on a smile. "Everything's fine. These gentlemen are here investigating the death of Hannah Quinn.”
Dalton kept smiling, but his wife didn't.
Her face tightened, and she glared at him. "Why are they interviewing you?”
"They're not interviewing me. They're interviewing you now. They just want to ask you a few questions.”
She didn't buy into his BS. "Why would they want to ask me questions?”
"Can you tell me where you were between 9 and 11:00 PM last night?" I asked.
"I was here, at home," she snapped.
"Alone?"
"No. I was with my husband. You can't possibly think I'm a suspect?”
"It's just a matter of procedure, ma'am.”
A wave of recognition flashed on her face. "Oh, I get it. Because he can't keep his dick in his pants, I'm a suspect, right?”
So much for not opening old wounds.
Dalton tried to laugh it off.
His wife, Lauren, wasn't so amused.