Chapter Twenty-three
Jill stretched, savoring the quiet morning light filtering through her bedroom window.
It had been a long time since she’d woken up next to someone she actually liked, and she wasn’t eager for the moment to end.
Lying next to her, tangled in the sheets, was Mark Haskell, the town prosecutor and, apparently, her secret boyfriend.
She hadn’t meant for this to happen. At least, not like this.
But Mark was charming, funny, and had a way of making her forget, at least temporarily, that her last serious relationship, namely her first and only marriage to Sam, had ended in disaster.
She turned her head to look at Mark, still half-asleep, hair mussed in a way that would make every juror in town swoon.
“Morning, Counselor,” she murmured.
Mark cracked an eye open, grinning. “Morning, Chief.”
Jill smirked and leaned in, intending to steal another kiss before the day rudely interrupted them, but Mark groaned and sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“As much as I’d rather stay here all day, I have to get to court. I have an appointment to make your brother look bad.”
Jill snorted. “Good luck with that. Oliver’s been making prosecutors like you look bad since law school.”
Mark stood and stretched before heading toward the bathroom. “Then I guess I’d better bring my A-game.” He winked. “Give me ten minutes.”
Jill smiled as he disappeared into the shower.
She lounged in bed a few minutes, debating whether she should join him in the shower, but they both had to get to work, so she decided to leave him be.
Suddenly her moment of peace was shattered by the sound of the front door downstairs opening and closing.
“Mom?”
Jill’s stomach dropped.
Audrey.
She launched out of bed, grabbed her robe, and raced toward the door. “Be right down!”
She flew down the stairs to intercept her daughter before she could go any further.
Audrey frowned at her. “What’s with the panicked expression?”
Jill forced a casual smile. “What? I’m not panicked. I’m just surprised to see you. What’s up?”
“I need to talk to you about something important,” Audrey said, brushing past her and heading toward the kitchen. “I hope you have coffee.”
Jill winced. “Actually, I was just about to leave for the station—”
Audrey rolled her eyes. “This has directly to do with one of your cases. Sit down, Mom.”
Jill sighed, reluctantly following Audrey into the kitchen, silently praying Mark would take forever in the shower.
Audrey poured herself coffee and leaned against the counter. “I think you need to take a hard look at Dr. Comstock.”
“The new dentist?”
“Yes, the one everyone’s swooning over. He’s too good to be true.”
Jill exhaled, rubbing her temples. “Audrey, I already have a man awaiting trial for Chips Hogan’s murder.”
Audrey set down her mug with a clunk. “Mom, don’t be one of those cops.”
Jill narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”
“You know,” Audrey pressed. “The ones that decide this guy is guilty and ignore any evidence that might prove someone else did it. Don’t you watch any Netflix documentaries?”
Jill crossed her arms. “You think I don’t do my job thoroughly?”
“I think you have a whole town looking at Waldo Duggan like he’s a murderer, and you owe it to him—and to Griffin Mead—to make sure you have the right guy.”
Jill considered her daughter for a long moment. “Why Comstock?”
Audrey hesitated. “It’s a feeling.”
Jill raised an eyebrow. “A feeling?”
“Mom, I spent the night having dinner at his house,” Audrey said.
Jill nearly spit out her coffee. “You what?”
Audrey held up her hands. “Relax! It’s not what you think. Nothing happened! I offered to show him the town, and he invited me over for a quick meal when we were done. Totally innocent.”
“And since when are you Halibut Cove’s official ambassador and tour guide?”
“I was just trying to get a read on him. And something about him doesn’t sit right with me.”
Jill exhaled, drumming her fingers on the table. “I don’t make arrests based on gut feelings, Audrey.”
“I’m not asking you to arrest him,” Audrey said. “I’m asking you to take a second look.”
Jill sighed. “Fine. I’ll take a second look.”
Before Audrey could say more, the unmistakable sound of someone coming down the stairs echoed through the house.
Both women turned just in time to see Mark Haskell walk into the kitchen.
Bare-chested.
Wrapped in a towel.
Still damp from the shower.
Mark froze. “Oh. Morning.”
Audrey stared at him.
Then turned to Jill.
Then back to Mark.
“Oh, come on.” Audrey groaned.
Jill sighed. “Audrey, you remember Mark Haskell, right? The prosecutor?”
Mark was doing his best to look respectable despite the fact that he was half-naked in the police chief’s kitchen. “Uh. Nice to meet you. Again.”
Audrey stared at him. “So … this is what you’ve been hiding?”
Jill sighed. “It’s … complicated.”
Audrey scoffed. “Unbelievable.”
Mark, sensing the need for an exit, grabbed a cup of coffee and pointed toward the stairs. “I’m gonna, uh, get dressed. Nice seeing you.” He quickly retreated.
Audrey watched him scurry off, her eyes landing on his firm butt. “Same here.” She turned to her mother, crossing her arms. “So, this is why you’ve been so busy lately?”
Jill groaned. “It’s not what you think.”
Audrey rolled her eyes. “Mom, why couldn’t you just tell me?”
Jill hesitated. How could she explain that she wasn’t sure if she even knew what this was? That a part of her still didn’t trust relationships after Audrey’s father left, started a whole new life, and acted like they were nothing more than a footnote in his story?
Instead, she just shook her head. “Because I didn’t know what it was yet. Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad. I’m frustrated. I don’t care that you’re dating someone. I care that you felt you couldn’t tell me.”
“You’re right. I should have said something. I’m sorry.”
“He’s really cute, though,” Audrey noted.
“Yes, I know.”
Mark reappeared, now fully dressed and carrying his briefcase. He attempted a casual exit, but not before awkwardly attempting to kiss Jill goodbye. She turned her head at the last second, and his lips brushed her cheek instead.
“Right,” Mark said, adjusting his tie. “Well. Bye, Audrey.”
Audrey gave him the once-over. “Bye, Mark.”
Mark nodded awkwardly. “Jill, I’ll talk to you later.”
He deposited his coffee cup in the sink and practically sprinted out the door.
Audrey watched him go before turning back to Jill with a smirk. “Smooth.”
Jill groaned. “Shut up.”
The waiting room at Dr. Bradley Comstock’s dental office was busy, with three patients already seated and flipping through old copies of Coastal Living and Maine Life.
A thin, elderly woman in a fleece jacket sat closest to the counter, peering over her reading glasses at Jill and Mason as they walked in.
Across from her, a middle-aged man in work boots and a plaid jacket glanced up from his magazine, curiosity flickering across his face.
A teenage boy, slumped in his chair and scrolling on his phone, barely acknowledged them.
The second Jill flashed her badge, the room shifted. The elderly woman sucked in a sharp breath, setting her magazine down with great interest. The man in plaid leaned forward slightly, clearly invested. Even the teenager looked up, pulling out an earbud.
Melanie, the ever-peppy receptionist, started to stand but hesitated. “Uh, Chief Holbrook, Officer Dooley! What a surprise.”
Jill smiled tightly. “Is Dr. Comstock in?”
Melanie’s gaze darted to the full waiting room. “He’s with a patient right now.”
“We’ll wait,” Jill said, her voice light but firm.
Melanie’s fingers fluttered nervously over the keyboard. “It’s just that he’s really busy today. He has back-to-back appointments.”
Jill folded her arms. “We won’t take much of his time.”
By now, all three waiting patients were openly listening. The man in plaid gave a low whistle under his breath. The teenager muttered, “Damn,” under his breath.
The exam room door opened, and Dr. Comstock emerged with an elderly woman, helping her to the counter. “Mrs. Parker,” he said in his warm, professional tone, “I recommend you come back for a deep cleaning to keep your teeth and gums in great shape.”
As soon as he turned toward the waiting room and spotted Jill and Mason standing by the front desk, his smile faltered.
Melanie’s voice rose an octave. “I told them you were busy, Doctor—”
Bradley glanced at her sharply, then immediately smoothed his expression. “It’s fine, Melanie,” he said, but there was a stiffness to his voice. “Chief Holbrook. Officer Dooley. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Jill didn’t miss the slight tension in his shoulders. She smiled politely. “If we could have a moment of your time, Doctor?”
Bradley hesitated. His gaze flicked toward the patients, all of whom were now blatantly staring. Even the elderly woman with the fleece jacket was staring over her glasses like she was watching the climax of a courtroom drama.
“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Come into my office.”
As soon as the door shut behind them, the tension in the air thickened. Comstock moved behind his desk, adjusting a stack of files like he needed something to do with his hands.
Jill got straight to the point. “Where were you the night Chips Hogan died?”
Comstock raised an eyebrow. “Am I a suspect now?” He gave a small, breathy laugh. “I thought you already had someone in custody.”
“We’re covering all our bases,” Jill said evenly.
Comstock hesitated, then sat down. “To be honest, I don’t know where this is coming from, why I’m suddenly on your radar, but I was at a dental convention in Portland. Didn’t get back until late that night. What time was the body discovered?”
“Before you returned,” Jill admitted.
Comstock exhaled, looking relieved. “Well, then.”
Jill didn’t let the moment pass. “And where were you the night Griffin Mead died?”
There it was—a flicker of something.
Not shock.
Not confusion.
Just a pause.
Before Comstock could answer, the door burst open, and Melanie nearly stumbled inside. “We were working late that night!” she blurted out.
Jill’s head snapped toward her.
Melanie’s face was flushed. “He—he was with me. We worked very late that night. And then he walked me home. After 10 p.m.”
Jill studied the two of them.
Comstock wasn’t looking at Melanie.
Melanie, however, was watching him closely, as if waiting for him to agree.
Something unspoken passed between them.
Comstock’s jaw clenched. “That’s correct.”
Jill turned back to Bradley. “You remember that exact night?”
Melanie nodded too quickly. “Of course!”
Mason finally spoke up, breaking the tense moment. “Hey, while I’m here—can you take a look at my teeth?”
Comstock blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
Mason opened his mouth dramatically, pointing to his molars. “I think my wisdom teeth need to come out. My gums feel weird. What do you think?”
Jill sighed. “Mason.”
“What? While we’re here.”
Comstock stared at him for a long moment, then managed a small, forced chuckle. “Well, at first glance, I’d say you have a few older fillings that might need to be checked.”
Mason grinned. “Knew it.”
Comstock gestured toward the door. “Make an appointment with Melanie on your way out.”
Mason turned to Jill. “Should I?”
Jill shot him a look. “Not the time.”
As they walked out of the office, Mason muttered, “My Spidey sense is tingling, Chief. I really don’t like him.”
Jill nodded. “Me neither. But we need evidence.”
Mason straightened. “What do you want me to do?”
“Find out if that convention was real,” Jill ordered. “And get security footage from every hotel in Portland.”
Back at her desk at the station, Jill exhaled, running a hand through her hair.
Something wasn’t sitting right.
She pulled up the autopsy report for Griffin Mead on her computer, scanning through the findings.
Then she stopped.
Her heart skipped.
In addition to the poison …
There was residue of novocaine in Griffin’s mouth.
Jill’s breath came slow and steady as she leaned back in her chair.
Novocaine.
Had Griffin Mead seen Dr. Comstock on the day he was murdered?
And if so …
Why hadn’t Comstock mentioned it?