Chapter 15
SOPHIE
When Detective Enible stepped into view, my stomach clenched.
I never thought I’d see him again. He was the cop who’d arrested Anthony and Mrs. B—and eventually Lily-Ann’s ex-husband, Piotr.
The cop who still suspected that I, along with everyone else at Marigold Cottages, was complicit in a murder, or guilty of a cover-up.
Which wouldn’t be so bad, if it weren’t so true.
I’d felt sorry for James Dedrick when I’d found his body outside my cottage. I hadn’t known that he’d planned to assault me. I hadn’t known that’s why he’d died. And Gregory Ybarra, well, he attacked Mrs. B—not physically, but still. And that’s why he’d died.
Yet in the end we’d shifted the blame to Piotr, because justice mattered more than law.
I doubted that Detective Enible agreed, though, and I dreaded the possibility of him poking around in our lives.
I guess that’s why I recognized him instantly, viscerally.
A middle-aged man with a friendly, jowly face.
I hated that he looked like a SoCal Columbo, rumpled and approachable.
I knew better than to trust cops—because I read the news—but I tended to crumble under authority.
I was terrified that if Enible talked to me, I’d blurt dangerous secrets.
After getting initial statements, and taking a thousand photographs of the house, the uniformed cops had asked me, Nicholas, Angela, and Pax to wait in the great room. Angela chatted to Pax and Nicholas, who would forever be Pecs in my mind. Seriously, he had bigger boobs than I did.
“Frank was a big funder of World of Goods,” Angela told Pax, stretching out on the couch and kicking off her heels. “That’s his major cause. Though Jane says he puts a lot of money into support for migrant workers, too.”
“Sounds like a great guy,” Nicholas said. “I remember my dad listening to some of the bands he produced.”
I wanted to hear more about his dad. He didn’t talk about him much and he had been married to Mrs. B. However, my curiosity would have to wait because my phone was blowing up with Marigold Cottages Murder Collective texts after I’d explained what happened to Frank DeYoung.
Ocean
How are you holding up?
Sophie
Fine, but that detective is here
The same one as last year
Edible
Sophie
Not Edible. Edible
Sophie
Gah!
Enible!
Vernon Enible
Hamilton
Don’t talk to him.
Sophie
We’re just witnesses. Not suspects
On the couch across from me, Angela was telling Pax, “Sunny says Frank wanted to die penniless. To give it all away and keel over the next day. At least before he married Karina.”
“I don’t know how much you can trust what Sunny says,” Pax said.
Angela tucked her stockinged feet beneath her. “Jane says the same, though.”
“Was she angling to get World of Goods in his will?” Nicholas asked.
“Of course she was. She’s good at her job. Also, she thrives on public acclaim. Eats awards for breakfast. She was due to win the Millerbrandt, which would’ve rocketed her into the fundraising stratosphere.”
I heard Nicholas’s phone buzz in his pocket, but he ignored it while I texted on mine.
Lily-Ann
Anthony says, and I quote, “No.”
Sophie
There’s nothing to say. We were outside
We heard a scream we went inside. That’s all
Hamilton
There is no word for dentists who give
away candy. There is no word for teachers
who claim the alphabet starts with F. But there
is a word for a cop lying under oath.
Hamilton
Testilying.
It’s so common there’s a word for it.
Don’t trust them.
I adored Hamilton, but he didn’t trust anyone who lived outside of Marigold Cottages.
Ocean
Nobody mention this to
Mrs. B or she’ll buy a deerstalker cap
and start Marpling
Hamilton
Those are two very different
intellectual properties.
Ocean
How’s CJ? Is she okay?
Should I come be with her?
Is it too early for that?
Hamilton
One is Sherlock Holmes by Sir
Arthur Conan Doyle.
Lily-Ann
Yes, if you hadn’t slept together yet.
Hamilton
The other is considered the pinnacle of
cozy mysteries.
Ocean
We KNOW Hamilton!
Sophie
CJ’s upset but okay
I wasn’t sure if that was true, but I texted Ocean privately to reassure her, then Detective Enible entered the room and closed the door behind himself, a little harder than necessary.
“Sophie Gilman,” he said.
“I gave my statement to the police officer,” I told him, “and have nothing to add.”
“Whoa,” Enible said. “This hostility is new.”
“I gave my statement,” I repeated. “But it’s nice to see you again.”
He chuckled. “And you’re looking lovelier than ever.
I just want to check your statement is correct.
You were outside with Mr. Perez until you heard a scream.
You entered to find CJ Moore and then Pax Heron checking Mr. DeYoung’s condition.
” He flipped through his notepad. “At that point Karina DeYoung was at the top of the stairs, and moments later Jane Sheffield and Helene Kagant joined her?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you know where they were at the time of Frank DeYoung’s death?”
“I don’t, sorry.”
“Great, thanks. That’s a big help.” He lowered his notepad, like we were just chatting. “So what are you doing in Hope Ranch? It’s a long way from the Marigold Cottages.”
I stood from the couch. “Okay, then. It’s time to head home.”
“Throw me a bone, Sophie,” Enible said. “That’s not—”
“Nicholas?” I prompted.
“Right!” He rose beside me, his hand touching my lower back. “Let’s go.”
“Oh! Are we leaving?” Angela shoved her feet into her heels. “Me, too! I don’t have anything to add to what Sophie said.”
Enible considered me from beneath his shaggy brows. “Of course, Ms. Gilman. Say hello to Anthony Lambert for me.”
I almost said, “Okay!” but Nicholas steered me toward the door.
“If you’d indulge me one more minute, Mr. Heron?” Enible asked Pax.
Pax swallowed. “Oh, sure. No problem.”
I almost told him he didn’t have to stay behind, but Nicholas was already ushering me away from the foyer and the crime scene.
If it was a crime scene, and Frank DeYoung hadn’t simply stumbled.
Which he had, given his age and drinking and the fact that of course CJ hadn’t shoved him and—and I found myself blinking away tears, remembering his easy, confident warmth as he’d assured me that I already was a playwright.
I didn’t need to prove myself to anyone.
When we stepped outside, the comfortable cool night air chilled me to the bone. I found myself trembling, so Nicholas wrapped his jacket around me. I calmed as I caught his familiar scent in the collar.
“Sophie, you’re such a femme forte!” Angela said, trotting after us. “First you ignore the detective’s questions, then you walk out on him. I need strength like that.”
I flushed. “I, um, wanted to go home?”
“I thought you were soft, but damn you are a boss bitch.” She unlocked her car with a twee-toot. “See you next time.”
After she pulled away, we climbed into Nicholas’s car. His headlights swept across the olive trees as the pavers wobbled under his tires.
“Boss bitch,” he said.
“Oh, shut up,” I told him, but I couldn’t help smiling.