Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Emma hadn’t spoken to Matthias since they left Fran’s house. He knew from the look she’d given him that she believed he’d been too heavy-handed.
As they neared Washington, he decided she’d had enough time to fume. “Are you ever going to talk to me again?”
She kept her head turned toward the passenger window. “You treated her like a real suspect.”
“Yeah. I did. Because for now she is.”
Emma pivoted to face him. “Who do you think she killed? Sonny? Or Winslow?”
There was a sharp challenge in her tone. One that Matthias didn’t want to contend with. “Did you believe her when she claimed to have no idea about Winslow’s relationship with Jones?”
Emma’s mouth pressed into a tight frown. “No. I didn’t.”
“Okay then.”
“But I don’t—can’t—believe she’s capable of committing murder. Not once. Definitely not twice.”
“Why not?”
Emma took a few seconds to reply. “Because she helped me get in to see Eric. She could’ve lost her job over that, yet she risked everything to sneak me into the ER. And if she’d killed and buried Sonny, why on earth would she pretend to find him when we were standing right there?”
Matthias had to admit, her last question had him stumped. He didn’t peg Fran as stupid. “You don’t find it the least bit odd that, of all that property, she chose to metal detect at that one spot?”
“No, I don’t. She wasn’t detecting at ‘that one spot.’ She told us she’d been all over the site.”
He realized she had indeed said that when she’d found the bull’s nose ring. Up until then, it had been the most interesting thing she’d found.
Then she’d unearthed Jones.
“I’ll grant you that much,” Matthias said before asking, “What’s your take on how she reacted to the engraved band?”
“I honestly don’t know.” Emma rested her fingertips on her lips. “I admit it was strange. The way she reacted… the ring almost seemed… personal.”
Exactly what he’d thought. “You don’t suppose it was hers, do you?”
He expected Emma to argue with him. Instead she fell silent for several long moments. “I don’t know, but I’m positive it was more than just another piece of bling from a metal detecting session. It meant something to her.”
“Could Fran and Jones have been an item?”
“I hate to say it, but I’ve been wondering the same thing. I can’t picture the two of them together, but Sonny could be charming. And Fran was lonely…”
In other words, Matthias thought, yes.
He dug his phone from his pocket. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he thumbed the device and pulled up Fergusson’s number.
“What is it, Honeywell?” The trooper sounded more tired than miffed.
“I may have a lead for you. Where can we meet?”
“A lead on which case?”
“Both.”
After a brief silence, during which Matthias heard the sound of shuffling papers, the trooper replied, “It’s almost five. Meet you at the Pub on Main in a half hour.”
* * *
Emma’s argument to join Matthias for his meeting with Fergusson went nowhere. She’d known it wouldn’t, but still, she wanted to be part of it. Matthias pointed out that she should visit her sister, and he was right.
A text exchange with Eric provided Nell’s room number.
Emma walked in to find Nell wearing a hip-to-toe cast, propped up in bed, and Eric in a blue vinyl recliner.
Nell’s bedside table held a food tray with a cup of coffee, a can of apple juice, and a container of orange gelatin.
Only the coffee appeared to have been touched.
Emma pointed at it. “You need to eat.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Eric said with a strong hint of exasperation.
Nell wrinkled her nose. “I hate gelatin. Especially orange.”
“Or green,” Emma said, remembering the faces her sister used to make when their mom served the stuff.
“Please,” Nell said, dragging the word out, “get me out of here.”
“They won’t release you until you prove you can keep food down. Not to mention, you have PT in the morning.”
“But I’m bored.”
“Other than being bored, how do you feel?”
“Not bad.”
Emma scrutinized her sister. Nell seemed wide awake. Her pupils appeared normal.
Nell correctly interpreted Emma’s concern. “No, I still haven’t taken any prescription pain killers. I have to tell you though, my leg hurts.”
Emma tensed, terrified the pain would drive her to asking the medical staff for something stronger.
Nell offered a weak smile. “Don’t worry, sis. I can tough it out.”
Emma noticed an assortment of pamphlets next to the untouched food and approached. “What’s this?” She picked up one of the flyers. “Addiction rehab facilities?”
“A lady from social services was in a little while ago.” Eric lowered the leg rest on the recliner. “She left us some reading material.”
Emma glanced from him to her sister. “And?”
Nell fingered through the collection and selected one glossy brochure. “The social services woman recommended this place. It costs a little more money—”
“Don’t worry about that,” Eric interrupted. “We’ll figure out a way to make it work.”
Emma took the material from Nell and started reading. The facility was located in Allegheny County, about twenty miles away. It boasted multitudes of five-star reviews and offered a wide range of treatment options, from medical to holistic.
Nell pointed at it. “They even have equine-assisted therapy.”
“And yoga and massage.” Emma had to admit, the place sounded like a perfect fit. “Heck, do they allow you to bring guests?”
Eric snickered. “I know, right? I asked the same thing.”
Emma looked around for another chair and found none. The drape was drawn around the second bed in the room, and muffled voices came from within. Nell’s roommate undoubtedly had company who’d claimed all additional seating. Emma elected to sit on the edge of Nell’s bed.
“Where’s Matthias?” Eric asked.
“Meeting with Trooper Fergusson to get an update on Winslow’s homicide.”
“Wait. What?” Nell pushed herself up in bed and winced. “Patrick Winslow’s dead? When did this happen?”
Emma updated her on what she knew, keeping her voice low and hoping Nell’s roommate wasn’t eavesdropping.
“They better not look at me,” Eric said at a whisper. “I was at home with no car.”
“I’m pretty sure they don’t suspect you took a ride share to the Powell farm to commit murder and arson. Matthias, on the other hand…”
Eric looked appalled. “Matthias thinks I’m guilty?”
Emma glared at him. “No. The state police may think Matthias had something to do with it.”
“Matthias?” Nell said. “Why?”
“Because he’d been there not long before it happened.
But I don’t believe he’s a serious suspect, either.
” Although after saying it out loud, Emma began to wonder.
Was Matthias walking into a trap with this meeting?
No. It had been Matthias’s idea. If it was a trap, the invitation would’ve come from Fergusson.
Emma shoved the thought aside. “Do either of you know of any history between Fran Goodwin and Sonny?”
“What kind of history?” Eric asked, his expression dubious.
Emma glanced toward the curtain surrounding the next bed, aware that the conversation behind it had fallen silent. “Romantic,” she whispered.
Eric and Nell looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
“I have no idea,” Nell said. “I haven’t exactly been tuned in to local gossip in recent years.”
Eric didn’t speak right away, but Emma could tell he was thinking. Finally, he said, “Now that you mention it, I seem to recall them being an item, but that was ages ago.”
“How long is an age?” Emma asked.
“It was after high school.”
“Sonny and Ashley were high school sweethearts. They married right after graduation.”
“I never said Sonny wasn’t a cad where women are concerned. I don’t know this for a fact, but rumor has it he and Tina were also… you know.”
Emma checked the curtain again, certain whoever was behind it was straining to hear. She met Eric’s gaze. “Why don’t you and I take a walk. Maybe get something to eat. I’m starved.”
“So am I.” He stood.
Nell pushed the wheeled table away. “Oh, no you don’t. Not without me.” She pointed at a pair of crutches leaning in the corner. “They showed me how to use those and told me I need to move around anyway.”
Emma slid from the bed and gathered the crutches, along with the gelatin and apple juice. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Fergusson and Lukan were already seated when Matthias arrived at the Pub on Main. Once orders were placed and menus returned to the waiter, Fergusson focused his attention on Matthias. “Okay, tell me about your lead.”
Matthias reached into his pocket and removed the ring, but he kept it concealed in his closed fist, which he thumped down on the table next to his place setting.
“What have you got there?” Fergusson asked, his curiosity obviously piqued.
Matthias wasn’t ready to give up his bargaining chip just yet. “You first. Have you heard from the fire marshal?”
The trooper glowered at him. “I have. His report is only preliminary, mind you. We won’t have the lab results for a week or more.”
Not unusual. “I’ll settle for the preliminary findings.”
Fergusson took a slug of his coffee. “No big surprise. They found evidence of an accelerant. He can’t say for sure but believes it was plain old gasoline. Multiple points of origin around the first floor of the structure, but the body was doused.”
“Did he feel the fire was set perimortem or post?” Matthias dreaded the thought of anyone being burned alive.
“The fire marshal didn’t say, but the coroner has already completed the autopsy.”
Lukan took up the report. “Winslow had been shot five times, but only one gunshot was fatal. Cause of death was blood loss from a bullet that ripped through the abdominal aorta. He was dead before he was lit on fire. No sign of smoke in his trachea or lungs.”
“Interesting,” Matthias said. “I never believed Jones’s homicide was premeditated, but Winslow’s may have been.”
“I agree on both counts.”
“What do you think? Do we have one killer or two?”
“We?” The trooper glared at him. “The only we here is Lukan and me. And I believe it’s time for you to show what you’re hiding there.” He reached over and slapped Matthias’s knuckles.
Matthias couldn’t argue. They’d already given him more information than he’d expected. He opened his hand, revealing the ring, then placed it on the table in front of Fergusson.
“What’s this?” He removed a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket, stuck them on his face, and picked up the jewelry.
Matthias remained silent as first Fergusson, then Lukan, inspected the band including the inscription.
“Where did you get this?” Fergusson asked.
“Fran Goodwin, the woman who discovered Jones’s body while she was metal detecting?
Saturday morning, we encountered her at Emma’s farm.
I made her show us what she’d found, since technically Emma owned it.
Fran emptied her pocket.” Matthias pointed at the ring.
“That was part of the haul. Emma didn’t take a good look at any of the stuff right away, thinking it was all junk.
Then last night—or I guess it was early this morning—she sorted through it and found that. ”
“This Goodwin woman found it on the Anderson farm?” Lukan asked.
“I don’t think so. We confronted her a couple hours ago, and she admitted she might have picked it up while hunting at another location.”
Lukan returned the ring to Fergusson before asking, “Did she mention which location?”
“No. I’m not sure I believe her anyway.”
“Why’s that?” Fergusson asked.
“Her reaction when we showed her the ring was too intense. From what I’ve seen of Fran Goodwin, she doesn’t metal detect in the hope of finding valuables. Her house is basically a museum of rusted junk from the area farms.”
“She’s a relic hunter,” Lukan said.
Matthias turned to him.
“That’s the term they use for someone who searches for archeological stuff like musket balls, old buttons, maybe some coins rather than precious metals.
” Lukan must have realized both Matthias and Fergusson were eyeing him.
“What? My brother’s into metal detecting and took me out with him a time or two. ”
Fergusson glared at his partner. “I imagine he wouldn’t toss aside a gold or platinum ring if he happened across it, though.”
Lukan shrugged. “Probably not.”
Fergusson brought his gaze back to Matthias. “So maybe that’s the case here. She doesn’t go in search of shiny baubles, but if she came across one, she wouldn’t want your girlfriend laying claim to it.” He hiked a snide eyebrow. “Unless it really was hers or her sister’s.”
Matthias wasn’t taking the bait this time.
“Fran didn’t act like she was relieved to get it back for monetary reasons.
” He pointed at the band Fergusson was holding.
“You ask me? That has personal meaning to her. She made too much of a show of reading the inscription and is a horrible actress. She knew full well what was engraved inside.”
“You think this was a gift from Jones to Fran Goodwin?” Fergusson asked.
Matthias shrugged. “I know she didn’t want to give it back to me. And she doesn’t have an alibi for the time of Winslow’s death.”
Fergusson scowled in thought. “It’s interesting that she’s the one who found Jones.”
“That’s been troubling me, too,” Matthias said, “but I can’t figure out why she would intentionally uncover the body if she’s the one who buried him.”
Lukan came forward, propping an elbow on the table. “I can think of two reasons.”
Matthias looked at the trooper’s eager face.
“One: she really did love the man and didn’t want him left there in an unmarked grave, even if it was her doing. And two: she wanted to throw suspicion away from her. She expected us to think exactly as you are, Detective Honeywell.”