Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Later that afternoon, Jo hadn’t made any progress tying Garvin to Stanley Clifton when Sam returned with Lucy, her tail wagging as she padded into the station. Jo noticed a streak of blue on her tail.
“Lucy, what did you get into?” Jo asked, crouching down to inspect it.
Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Marnie’s volunteers were painting campaign posters. And guess who was there?”
“Who?” Jo asked, though she already had a sinking feeling she knew the answer.
“Desmond Griggs.” Sam’s voice carried a note of disdain.
Jo’s eyebrows shot up. “Griggs? Really? What’s she thinking?”
Sam shrugged. “She says she’s giving him a chance.”
Jo snorted, reaching for a pair of scissors from Wyatt’s desk. “Good luck to her. He’s more likely to burn her campaign down than help it.” She carefully snipped the painted fur from Lucy’s tail. “Any luck with Marnie?”
Sam shook his head, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “She’s sticking to her story. Says she was never interested in the property.”
Jo snorted. “Sure, because pushy’s her style.”
Wyatt glanced up from his computer. “So Marnie’s lying?”
“Seems like it.” Sam nodded. “Or Garvin was. But why lie? What’s so special about that land?”
Jo’s mind raced, recalling her conversations with Garvin. Something about the way he had talked about the property stuck with her. “He told me he didn’t trust her—said she was too aggressive.”
Sam frowned. “Think he could’ve been confused about who else was interested?”
“Doubt it. He was sharp.” Jo paused, the puzzle pieces still not fitting together. “He mentioned something about the land having ‘potential,’ but I thought he meant the view. What if it’s something else?”
“Like what?” Wyatt leaned forward, interest sparking in his eyes.
“I don’t know. But whatever it is, it’s enough for Marnie to lie.”
The room fell silent as the implications hung in the air. Jo could almost see Sam turning the information over in his head, trying to make sense of it.
Wyatt broke the silence. “You really think she’d kill for it? She’s running for mayor.”
Sam met his gaze. “And since when have politicians been squeaky clean?”
Wyatt smirked. “Fair point.”
Jo crossed her arms. “Marnie wouldn’t be the first official involved in something shady. Might not even be the first one to kill.”
Sam nodded, a flicker of determination in his eyes. “All right. Wyatt, I want you to follow her. See what she’s up to after she leaves her campaign office.”
Wyatt was already grabbing his jacket. “You got it. I’ll keep it low-key.”
Sam sighed. “I’ve gotta call Garvin’s son and daughter. Not calls I’m looking forward to.”
Jo winced. “I don’t envy you.”
Sam glanced at the clock on the wall. “Might need a drink at Holy Spirits after that. You in?”
Jo smiled. “I could be persuaded.”
The soft click of nails on hardwood interrupted the moment. Lucy, who had been dozing in the corner, was suddenly alert. She sniffed the air, padding over to the filing cabinet with growing interest.
“What is it, girl?” Jo asked, watching as Lucy’s tail wagged with excitement.
Lucy pawed at the base of the cabinet, whining softly. Jo knelt down, curious. Her fingers brushed against something small and hard. Pulling it out, she found a bone-shaped treat—the one Bridget had given to Major earlier.
“Well, would you look at that,” Jo said, holding it up.
Major sauntered into the room, his green eyes narrowing at the sight of Lucy nosing around his stash. The black cat’s tail twitched with irritation.
“Sorry, Major. Looks like your secret’s out.” Jo tossed the treat to Lucy, who caught it mid-air with a crunch. Major’s look of disdain was almost comical as he turned and leapt onto a nearby desk, his back to them.
Wyatt zipped up his jacket, laughing. “Looks like it’s almost quitting time. I’ll get a jump on following Marnie, see what she’s up to after the campaign HQ.”
Jo nodded. “Let me know if she does anything worth raising an eyebrow.”
Wyatt flashed a grin. “You know I will.”
As he headed out, Jo’s mind raced. What was so special about the property? She’d lived in that cottage for years—nice spot, sure, but nothing worth killing over. But Garvin had hinted at something more. Something about the land.
Was Marnie lying about wanting it?
Was Garvin’s death about the land or the valuable bronze statue?
Two possible motives and no time to waste figuring out which one was real. If Garvin had died over a piece of land or a bronze elk, it didn’t matter—they had to find out fast.
Jo glanced at the clock. Every second counted.