Chapter Eight
Eight
Fort Bragg, California
Ronan wondered where the bounty hunters were. He’d been parked across the street from the pharmacy for fifteen minutes and there was no sign of them. Their Tahoe had not been parked in the inn’s lot this morning, but he supposed they could have gone to breakfast and gotten delayed.
He glanced at the bakery box in the passenger seat. He’d had a craving for donuts and thought that perhaps Elle and her boss might like some, too.
Well, mostly Elle. Sara could have some too if she wished. If it made her more willing to work with him, he’d gladly bribe her with pastries.
But mostly they were for Elle because she had a sweet tooth.
He should be embarrassed to be trying so hard, but he was so relieved to have left things on such a good note with the bounty hunter the night before.
They could help each other. Finding Dianne’s killer was the most important thing, and if bringing donuts to Elle and her surly boss helped to do that, he’d bring them every damn day.
His cell buzzed with an incoming call from Howard. “Hey, boss.”
“Good morning, Ronan. Where are you?”
“Sitting across from the pharmacy, watching for the suspect’s wife and waiting for the bounty hunters to get here. Why?”
“I have a few things for you. First, Gary searched the pharmacy tech’s house and found no one there.”
Gary Simpson was one of the other detectives who lived on the coast. His wife Arlene worked at the bakery and Ronan had gone to high school with her. Gary was a transplant—he’d come from Georgia and still had a heavy Southern accent fifteen years later.
He was also a damn fine detective, so if he said that Steve Garfield wasn’t in his house, he wasn’t there.
“I’ll let Eunice Greene know. She’s still crushed that he stole from her.”
“I bet. Let her know that we’re still looking for him. He’s facing some hefty charges when we find him. Gary’s going to see Eunice later today, so if you see him go into the pharmacy, that’s why.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
“So…Arlene told Gary that you bought donuts this morning from her bakery. I’m here in the Fort Bragg office today and I see no donuts. What gives, Ronan?”
Ronan laughed. “I bought them for the bounty hunters. I’m trying to sweeten them up so they’ll share what they know.”
“So I don’t get any donuts?” Howard whined.
“Nope. Get your own. You said you had a few things. What else?”
“Right. The autopsy report is back. No drugs in Dianne’s system. Cause of death was asphyxiation. The coroner believes that the blow knocked her out and then her killer covered her nose and mouth, suffocating her.”
Ronan closed his eyes. “Dammit.” At least she wasn’t aware at the end. “Thanks.”
Howard sighed. “Prints still aren’t back, so I hope the hunters give you a lead.”
“I just sent you an email ten minutes ago. Check the prints on the award against Elle Randolph’s. She said she picked it up when she and Sara talked to Dianne about Reece Miller.”
“When did she tell you that?”
“Yesterday evening. I talked to her without her partner around. She’s far more forthcoming when she’s alone.”
“She’s admitting to handling the murder weapon?”
“She’s admitting to handling Dianne’s ‘Best Of’ award. It wasn’t a murder weapon when she touched it. And those might not be her prints. Dianne might have wiped it down in the two days between when the hunters checked out and when she was murdered.”
Howard hesitated. “We’re certain of their alibi?”
“Yes. I called the hotel in Willits and they were there all Monday night. I have the footage from the hotel’s cameras. No one left their room all night and the window doesn’t open.”
“Are the hunters there now?” Howard asked.
“Not ye—” A familiar Chevy Tahoe turned into the lot where he was parked. “They just got here.”
“Good luck. I’ll have Cliff take care of requesting Randolph’s prints. I’ll let you know. Call if the jumper’s wife shows up.”
“Will do.” He ended the call and waited as the Tahoe slid into the spot beside him on the left. Elle was at the wheel, Sara in the passenger seat.
Sara gave him a baleful look.
Hopefully she had a sweet tooth, too. He got out of his SUV, bakery box in hand, and knocked on Sara’s window. She glared some more but rolled down her window.
“Can I join you?” he asked.
“No,” she snapped.
“Sara,” Elle chided gently. “Behave.”
“Let him get a warrant.”
“I brought donuts,” he said brightly. “A half dozen. Baked right here in Fort Bragg, not trucked in from some factory far away.” He waggled the box. “They’re super fresh.”
Sara continued to glare. “No, thank you.”
Elle shook her head. “Please get in, Detective. You’ll call more attention to us by standing out there.”
Sara slowly turned her head to glare at Elle. “What part of no didn’t you understand?”
“The part where he said the donuts were fresh. I’m hungry, and maybe one will improve your bad temper.”
Sounded like there was friction between the two hunters.
He slid into the back seat behind Sara, and Elle reached back for the box. “May I?”
“Help yourself. The baker wrote the flavors on the lid, so you’ll know which is which.”
“Oh, these smell delicious. Thank you, Detective Clarke.” She gave Sara a pointed look. “Aren’t we grateful for donuts, Sara?”
Sara muttered something else that Ronan couldn’t hear, then sighed. “Yes,” she said lightly, her cheer clearly faked. “Thank you, Detective. I guess the stereotypes are true. Cops and donuts.”
Elle had been handing the box to Sara, but jerked it back, cradling it to her chest possessively.
“That was mean, Sara. Stop it. It’s not Detective Clarke’s fault that you and Felicia had a fight.
Stop taking it out on the rest of us.” Elle twisted in her seat to face Ronan.
“Sara’s wife is pregnant and due in ten days.
She’s a bit…easy to anger at the moment. ”
“I remember those days,” he said. “It doesn’t last forever. Congratulations, Ms. Lambert. I wish you and your family health and happiness.”
Sara heaved another sigh. “Thank you, Detective. And I’m sorry I was rude.”
“My wife was cranky at the end as well. Didn’t help that it was July and we were having a heat wave. Temps got up into the high seventies. She was uncomfortable and made sure we all knew about it.”
Elle scoffed. “High seventies is a heat wave?”
“Here in Mendocino, it is.” He motioned at the box. “Give her a donut now.”
“Fine.” Elle handed them over, and Sara chose a plain old-fashioned.
Elle made her selection—a turtle donut topped with chocolate, gooey caramel, and pecans—and Ronan took a jelly.
“Mmmm,” Elle moaned. “So good.”
“Arlene is the best baker around.”
“Do you know everyone in town?” Sara asked.
She was still hostile, but less so. Ronan counted it as a win for the moment.
“Not everyone. But a lot of the people. I went to high school with Arlene. She left to go to culinary school, specialized in pastries, met her husband, and brought him back to Mendo when they got married.”
“Ah, yes,” Sara said. “You left Mendocino to work with SFPD, but you came back. What happened? Why did you leave the San Francisco police force?”
Ronan considered telling her it wasn’t her business but decided that sharing might create some kind of truce between them as well. Though he doubted it. Sara wasn’t as nice as Elle. Or at least that was what she’d have people believe.
“My wife left me,” he said baldly. “Just up and decided motherhood and marriage weren’t for her. We’d moved to San Francisco so she could go to school. It was a fashion design academy, but she dropped out. Said it wasn’t what she expected.”
Sara turned in her seat, her eyes watchful. “She thought it would be easy and fun?”
“Exactly. We dated in high school. She got pregnant during our senior year. I had a job lined up here with the Fort Bragg PD, but I didn’t want her to lose out on her dreams because we got married, so I applied down in San Francisco.
Got into the academy and we moved. Tiny little shithole of an apartment, but I thought we were happy, until we weren’t.
I couldn’t take care of our daughter alone with my schedule, so I came home.
My parents helped me with her, along with neighbors and friends. ”
“Did you join the Fort Bragg PD?” Sara asked.
Ronan was sure she’d looked him up, so she knew he hadn’t, but he played along. “No, that position had been filled and they weren’t looking to hire anyone else. I got a job with the sheriff’s department instead. Been there for fifteen years.”
Sara held his gaze. “And your daughter? She’s well?”
“She’s amazing,” he said honestly. “Best thing I ever did was raising her. Had a lot of help, though. Truly took a village to raise Penny.”
Elle was watching them, her mouth curved into a soft smile, like she was happy that he and Sara were getting along. “Her name is Penny?”
“Penelope Ann. It must be stressful on both you and your wife for you to be gone when she’s so close to her due date. But we do what we must.”
He meant it sincerely and hoped she didn’t take offense. Her dark eyes registered understanding and she nodded.
“We do. Thank you for answering my question. You didn’t have to, but thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m kind of an open book, Ms. Lambert. I’m not here to steal your thunder or get in your way. I’m here for the same reason you are—to find Dianne’s killer.”
“And you’re quite certain it was Reece Miller?” she asked.
“Nope. But I don’t have a better lead right now, so I’ll hunker down with you. Robbery wasn’t a motive for her killing. Her cash drawer was open, but no money was taken.”
“What about her nephew?” Sara said. “Zach Gough’s an addict who’s been in and out of trouble for years. He’s in prison right now.”
Ronan wasn’t surprised that she knew that. He was also not going to give her any information on Zach Gough. “You have good information.”
“My wife does our data mining.”
“Then she’s thorough.”
Pride glinted in her eyes. “That she is. Right now she’s thoroughly unhappy with me because I broke something that belonged to her. I did take it out on you, and I apologize.”