1 Depth of Field (16 page)

He sighed and ran a hand over damp strands at the sides of his head. “That night, Susan and Alvin were fighting. They always fight, but this was different.”

“How so?”

“It just was,” he snapped. “He said he didn’t want to go anymore. She said she did.”

“Go where?”

He shrugged and looked at the ground. I had the feeling the particulars of this secret wouldn’t pass his lips no matter how much he wanted to tell me. Then inspiration seemed to strike him. “Sometimes they go out together at night. Late.”

“Intriguing.” I chewed my bottom lip and cast a glance over my shoulder. We were still alone. “Go on. Any particular nights?”

“Thursdays and Saturdays.”

“How do you know, Ollie? Surely you can’t see the lawn at that time of night. Why would you be here?”

He turned away, and I knew I’d lost him. “Just nowhere else to be. I worked here half my life.”

For a few moments, I watched Ollie walk away back to his precious lawn. As I returned to the house and trudged upstairs, I went over Ollie’s words in my head. Where were Susan and Alvin going every Thursday and Saturday? If it were just out for drinks and dancing, surely he would have said. Maybe he didn’t know the details just their habit.

I neared Susan’s boudoir and heard Spencer’s raised angry voice. “I don’t care who you are Mrs. Aston. I will arrest you for obstructing an ongoing police investigation. Now you and I both know no one broke into this house last night. I’m leaning toward insurance fraud, so do you want to rethink your story here or down at the station?”

Susan squawked like a pitiful chicken, and when I strode into the room, she turned beet red. Her outraged gaze swung from Spencer to me, and back again. “You wouldn’t dare arrest me.”

“Try me,” Spencer spat between clenched teeth. He reached to the back of his belt, and the clink of his handcuffs drained all the blood from Susan’s face. She reached a blind hand toward the settee and sank onto it, her frightened gaze never leaving the arm Spencer had tucked behind his back. From my vantage, I could tell he hadn’t even attempted to unhook the cuffs. He’d just jangled them to unsettle her. I liked the way he thought.

Susan stretched an arm out, pointing a shaky finger at me. “Make her leave.”

“You’re not in a position to order anyone,” was Spencer’s response. Her shoulders shook. All of a sudden I felt sorry for her. She was embarrassed.

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” Susan blurted.

“Know what?” Spencer waited. He didn’t give an inch. I couldn’t tell if he felt for her or not, but at least the anger had dissipated. Now he stood unemotional, patient, and quiet.

Susan pulled in a ragged breath. At this point too, I couldn’t be sure if this were one of her performances. If it was, she’d greatly improved over the last few days. “I didn’t want anyone to know he had found a favorite, and it wasn’t me.”

Neither Spencer nor I responded.

“From the beginning, I didn’t mind his wandering eye, as long as he came home to me. This time it was different. Whenever we argued, he or I were talking divorce. Neither of us ever meant it. We were the same and comfortable. Then he fell in love, and it all changed. He’d do anything for her. He bought that jewelry. I saw the receipts. I go through everything! I knew it didn’t come to
me
.”

All of my pity evaporated. Susan’s emotional breakdown was all because Alvin didn’t give her the unique pieces of jewelry.

“Who was it he loved?” Spencer asked softly.

She waved a dismissive hand as if it didn’t matter. “Take your pick—Louisa, Allie Kate—”

“Pattie?” I suggested.

She burst out laughing. “Pattie? Don’t be ridiculous, Makayla. That plain Jane? At least Allie Kate is vivacious if not gorgeous.”

Both Spencer and I winced. “She’s at least fifteen years his senior,” I said.

“What did that matter to Alvin? He loved women. Probably would have gotten you if he’d have lived.”

Spencer gave an unprofessional grunt of protest, warming me. “Where is the jewelry, Susan?”

She sighed and stood up then walked over to a stack of shoeboxes. One after the other were opened to reveal glittering silver and gold, rubies, diamonds, and emeralds. I couldn’t believe the mass or how she had treated it all. I owned a few pieces passed on to me from my great aunt and a quarter carat diamond ring I had bought myself. Each was properly cleaned and stored because the jewelry inherited from my aunt held sentimental value. The ring I had bought wouldn’t get companions too often that weren’t a cheap imitation.

“David Kokichi shouldn’t have told everyone about the jewelry,” Susan complained as she laid out each piece to replace in her jewelry box. “He did it to humiliate me. What are you doing about that, sheriff?”

“There might be a question of ethics,” Spencer said, “but he didn’t break the law.”

Susan made a small sound of alarm, and I thought she was about to demand she get justice for embarrassment. Instead, she lifted a necklace on her fingertips from the pile. A key made in the style of the ones carved in the early centuries to open treasure chests or castle doors. This one hung on a gold beaded chain. The key itself was shaped with gold and encrusted on the loops at the bow with diamonds, along the narrow barrel front, and more diamonds on the blade. The entire design was so delicate and beautiful, it took my breath away, and it must have had the same effect on Susan because she held it staring and saying nothing.

“Do you recognize this necklace?” Spencer asked, breaking the spell on both of us.

Susan’s face hardened. “No. I didn’t realize it was here. I dumped everything into the boxes last night without really looking.”

Spencer nodded. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and scanned through information he found on it. When he looked up, I couldn’t contain my curiosity. “Is it one of them?” I asked.

“Yes, it is.”

Susan looked like she might hurl the necklace into the nearest wall, but Spencer rescued it from her hands. “I would like to search through all the jewelry to see if the rest of the pieces are here. Do you mind, or do I need to get a search warrant?”

Susan huffed. “I don’t care about any of it! When you’re done, I’m going to just sell it all. I’m finished with Alvin and all he stood for.”

She flounced back to the settee, but Spencer and I focused on the task at hand, sorting through mounds of jewelry to find the pieces David had created. As we set to the job, I came to realize all of Susan’s collection wasn’t top of the line quality. Quite a bit mixed in was just well-made costume jewelry.

“Do you think she sold off some and had paste copies made?” I whispered to Spencer. I needn’t have bothered. Susan was lost in her own world of misery.

Spencer smirked. “This isn’t the movies, Makayla, and this—” he held up a gaudy necklace with a huge glass diamond in the center setting—“isn’t disguised to be anything other than what it is. Cheap.”

I admit I was disenchanted, but I believed he was right. Susan enjoyed jewelry for what it was and for its expense. Still again, if Alvin had cut off her supply and turned his generosity to another woman then Susan might have supplemented her collection the best way she could. I considered that it must be she enjoyed the pieces and not the latter. I doubted she was the type of woman to accept Alvin closing the purse strings.

“Bingo,” Spencer said. He held up a pin and compared it to the list he had compiled on his phone. “Three, four, five…”

By the time we were done, we had accounted for every one of the items David designed except for one, a diamond ring. “Are you sure this is everything, Susan?” Spencer said.

“Yes, that’s everything.” She sniffed in annoyance. “He must have stuffed those pieces in among my things like I wouldn’t notice.”

You didn’t.

“I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t accept them.” Susan brightened. “Or maybe they had an argument. Will you need to take all of my jewelry, because for that you will need more than just an IOU. I’m sure just a few pieces are worth more than your year’s salary, sheriff. No offense.”

And there went the last of my concern for her. Spencer straightened. I saw him struggle with the decision to inconvenience Susan just for the heck of it. He didn’t say “no offense taken,” and I had the feeling any time in the future where Susan might have gotten a warning rather than a ticket if she were caught speeding or parked in the wrong place, well, she wouldn’t. Poor, poor thing.

“I think we have everything we need, Susan.” Spencer pushed the words between teeth clenched so tight I was convinced he would either grind them to dust within seconds or need a pain pill or two after we were gone. He took my elbow and led me to the door, not looking back.

“Thanks for your time,” I called over my shoulder, because Spencer appeared not to be able to say the words. We were in the car and down the road with his hands punishing the steer wheel in a deathly grip before he spoke.

“I don’t like being looked down on.” He enunciated each word, and I laid a hand over his.

“You must have dealt with it before back in your home town?”

“Not from the people.”

I knew what he meant. Those he served as a police officer may have respected his position. His wife and her ilk may not have. He’d said his wife was similar to Susan but not as cold. The condescension tasted bad no matter how much sugar coated it.

“So what now?” I asked.

“I have a few ideas, but I’m going to need your help.”

“You got it, boss.”

Amusement lit his silver eyes, and the anger drifted away, just as I’d hoped it would.

Chapter Seventeen

I stood in John Brinlee’s office, poised behind my camera and ready to take “candid” shots. Candid because they were supposed to capture John busy at work, consulting with clients on the phone, bent over charts and manuals where he supposedly devised ways of improving both body and mind, and sitting cross-legged in an open area of his office where he centered himself so he could be more prepared to help others after he’d helped himself. Again, while I say candid, none of these shots were real no matter how they came across on film.

“Wait, Makayla, let me either turn or you turn. This is not my good side.” John Brinlee critiqued every decision I made and countered it with one of his own. “I believe I’m more favored on the left side, so if you could…? Great.”

I had gone along with Spencer’s plan to go back to the various jobs I had done before to retake shots I had taken in the past weeks. The undertaking was big, but I was willing to help in any way possible. I had started with John Brinlee because I hadn’t taken any, and this was the job that would pay me.

Spencer had managed to get my files back from the online storage company’s servers, and he had transferred them to the police station’s servers for safer keeping. We intended to go through them all one by one now that we knew what we were looking for. The task was still a long shot given that the item in question was a ring and not a necklace. Hands were often out of frame in a photo unlike heads and necks. Meanwhile, I was fulfilling John Brinlee’s request and ready to throttle the man.

“Should we take a break?” John asked, and I straightened, stretching my arms above my head. My back cracked painfully, and my neck was stiff.

John strode over and moved behind me. His hands hovered above my neck. “May I? I promise it will make you feel better.”

I hesitated and turned to face him. “Um…”

He smiled and raised his hands as if in surrender. “It’s all right, Makayla. I feel a little like you’re worried I’ll attack you.”

“No, of course not.” I denied it, but I admit I didn’t know how to take him. My gaze wandered away from his face in case he read the truth in my eyes, and I alighted on the collection of knives on his wall. There was everything from serrated edge with knuckle ring handles to camouflage blades. I recalled that Alvin had been killed from multiple stab wounds, and licked my lips. “These don’t seem like you.”

John chuckled. “Because they’re thought of as violent? It’s the person who can lose control, not the weapon. I have a hobby that makes no sense to my promotion of tranquility and love. It happens.”

“I guess you’re right,” I said. “None of us are all good or all bad, or all anything.”

“How about that massage,” John suggested. “Less than thirty seconds, and you’ll feel tons better.”

I spun away and tilted my head. “Okay, go ahead.”

His hands were surprisingly warm, but he kept his word. An odd pressure, a pull, a pop, and the tension released. I gasped and rotated my shoulders, straightening. When I faced John, he had folded his hands over his chest and grinned happily. “Well?”

“I don’t know what you did,” I gushed, “but I feel incredible. I might even sign up for a couple massage sessions after this.”

He nodded and floated on light steps toward his desk. A drawer rolled open on well-oiled hinges at his prompting, and he reached into it. He pressed a coupon into my palm, and I laughed. How many people were giving out coupons in this crazy town?

“Twenty percent off,” John said. “And now when you take pictures here, you’ll do so knowing what we offer is worthwhile. Right?”

“I can’t deny it. You’re absolutely right.”

He clapped his hands. “Great. Now, are we ready?” And I was enslaved once again to the tyrant guru.

When our session was up, I left John with the assurance that yes, I would think it over about joining the gym. No, I said to him, I was no longer worried about his good intentions in helping me to achieve a beautiful new me. I did not, however, tell him the knife collection worried me and that I would bring it up to Spencer as soon as I saw him that evening.

My next stop was to The Donut Hole. If you can believe it, I had not enjoyed donuts for two whole days. This must be some type of record because I had enjoyed donuts even back in New York City. Make no mistake about it.

As soon as I stepped into the Hole, a cry of greeting went up that warmed me to my toes. Edna called out from the corner table, surrounded by her girlfriends. I waved, and she blew me a kiss. Capturing it and hugging it to my chest seemed to please her. Frank’s rowdy bunch of friends gave me salutes, and I offered one in return. The scent of fried dough, sugar, and cinnamon lured me to the counter, and I followed willingly.

“A camera,” Inna said, eyeing the digital one in my hand. “What are you up to, Makayla, catching people with their pants down?”

I chuckled. “No, I don’t want to do that.”

She shrugged. “I heard you and the sheriff caught Susan kind of like that.”

“Inna,” I chastised, “be nice. The woman has lost her husband.”

“Yeah, and hid the jewelry he bought for somebody else. What would you do?”

We both sort of stood there wondering. Oh wait, I had been in a bad situation because of a man. No thank you. I dismissed the subject and held up my camera. “I’m retaking some photos around town since my collection was stolen. I had quite a few that were just mood for Briney Creek. Do you mind?”

“Like this?” Inna tossed down the rag she’d been wiping the counter with. She tilted her head forward so that her dark hair fell over one eye, pursed her lips, and touched the middle and ring finger of both hands to a thumb.

I shook my head. “Well, I guess that’s one mood.”

After a few rapid-fire shots, Inna posed in a few new positions. She was a natural and pretty photogenic actually. Go ahead, tell me you’re surprised.

“Us too, us too,” Frank said and stumbled over with the baby under one meaty arm. Peony darted around the counter where she’d been working, frowning at him. “Don’t rush with her, Frank. You might fall! If she gets hurt, I won’t forgive you.”

Frank blushed, but he leaned heavy on his cane in front of me, his buddies in the background. I noticed a few other customers put hands up to shield their faces. Camera shy, I guess, or they had heard about the great photo caper with the sheriff and me. I didn’t blame them for worrying that somehow they would be implicated in a murder with just a shot. The thought did cross my mind that I might capture a dark expression or a sinister sneer in the corner of one of the shots later on the computer. More fanciful thinking, I suppose. Spencer would laugh if I told him those thoughts, so I would keep them to myself.

Peony had retrieved the baby and tried sneaking off with her, but Frank caught her, twirled his wife, and tucked her close to his side. The pink in her cheeks stood stark against her naturally pale skin, and she ducked her head to press her lips to the top of the baby’s silky strands. They made such a sweet scene, I couldn’t help myself. I snapped off a few shots.

“I want some of those,” Frank blurted. “Print and on the computer so I can email them.”

“To who?” Peony rolled her eyes and managed to escape. “You have customers, Frank. Makayla wants donuts.”

“Yes, anything for you, Makayla.” He moved with wobbly if amazing speed around the counter and set his cane to the side. Because the space where Frank worked was both narrow and equipped with bars similar to what you might see in a dance studio, he found plenty of support to lean on to move around. I climbed up on a stool to watch and yawned. Enough picture taking. I would get my sugar fix and go see Spencer, a fix of a completely different type.

Unfortunately, when I left the Hole, I spotted Louisa’s salon and two women exiting with hair styled to perfection. I groaned. Spencer had informed me I must not exclude anyone in my investigation. No jumping to conclusions, he’d said. As far as I knew, I had no assumptions to jump to. I didn’t know who was guilty or why. I wasn’t sure we were on the right track or if we had learned anything of use. Time and again, we found Susan to be the person with the strongest reason to kill Alvin. Yet, time and again, she seemed too foolish and self-centered to have done it.

In my mind, that did leave Louisa in a strong position, and my short time of interviewing her—more of a flyby really—had revealed nothing. I approached her shop with the hope that this time would be different. Maybe lady luck would shine down on me, and Louisa would forget to be a royal you know what and just open up to me.

I drew my courage together outside Louisa’s door. Then when I could delay no longer, I pushed the door open and entered. When I was presented with just one lady sitting in Louisa’s chair, ready to move to the dryer and one lady on her way out, I believed Lady Luck smiled on me.

“Louisa, hello,” I called, to capture her attention.

She looked up at me and frowned. “You couldn’t possibly have messed up your hair in a few days. I mean, I know it’s you, but it looks fine. Why are you here?”

I froze. Louise had been blunt from the day I met her, mean even, but no matter how many times I expected it, I just couldn’t swallow the awfulness that was her attitude. I just couldn’t fathom it.

“Really, Louisa, I just came to—”

“To what, Makayla?” she interrupted. “It’s all over town that you’re looking for the jewelry Alvin gave to the woman he loves.”

I had no words. I was irritable. People didn’t know how to keep quiet, at least about the things they should keep silent about. What they should share they didn’t. “Can I take a few candids of your shop, Louisa?”

“No.”

Bam! The door slammed in my face. A rush of heat spanned my cheeks. I was of half a mind to go in and demand who she thought she was, but sense took over. Louisa wasn’t the type to let unlawful entry off easy. She’d call Spencer or one of his deputies and next claim I’d attacked her. I grumbled as I turned away, thwarted. As I mentally reviewed the pictures I’d taken, I came to the conclusion I had nothing to offer. Up and down Main Street, even in the next block, none of the ladies I spotted wore unique rings. Some wore their wedding bands, but they were plain and clearly aged. The newest one might have been Reeza’s if she’d been back in town. I wished her and the officer the best when I thought of them and wondered if Spencer would give the man the boot when he returned. Hopefully not.

As I returned to my car and stuffed my camera in its bag, I caught sight of my shop. The blinds drawn, lights off, it looked forlorn. Would I return? I still wasn’t sure. After I had delayed long enough, I called Spencer and asked him to meet me at my apartment and then drove home to wait for him.

Talia was just scurrying up the walk toward the building herself, and when she saw me, she stopped. “Well?” she demanded. A boa. The old woman wore a purple and white boa. Where had she possibly found it? The accessory dressed up the thin jacket of the same color, hanging open to reveal what looked like a leotard. Hm, she might have found that piece at the same place as the boa. You might wonder how I could possibly know the stretchy top was in fact a leotard. I ask you to please use your imagination because to describe what my eyes were seeing was doubly cruel. Suffice it to say Talia had probably only run out to her car to grab something from it, a car I had never seen move from its current location.

“Well, what?” I asked in response to her question.

“Did you find the ring or not?” She seemed to vibrate with impatience.

“No, that’s not my job, Talia. The police are doing fine on their own.”

“The police! Bah!”

“Ladies? Is there a problem?”

We both turned to see Spencer approaching. I sighed my relief, and Talia scowled at the both of us. What did take me off guard though was the way the little woman’s cheeks pinked, and she almost ran to the building and hurried inside. Spencer arrived next to me, eyebrows in his hairline.

“Was she dressed—”

“Yes. Let’s just forget we ever saw it and go inside. You can cook me spaghetti while I get the pictures together.”

As soon as we were in the privacy of my apartment, Spencer grabbed the camera bag from my hands and dropped it on the couch before pulling me into his arms. He kissed me thoroughly and drew away smiling. “Oh, am I the cook tonight?”

“You just heard me?” I laughed.

“I was distracted thinking of—”

“Talia in a leotard?”

He shivered. “Anything interesting?”

“No, I don’t think so. At least I didn’t see any distinctive rings, nothing remotely matching the description David gave us. It’s pretty hopeless anyway.”

I followed Spencer into the kitchen, and he began looking through my cabinets. I had made sure to purchase the ingredients for the meal he claimed to make best. He cast a narrow gaze my way upon finding them, and I gave an innocent shrug, wide-eyed.

“Why is it hopeless?”

“Because the entire town knows we’re looking for it. It’s so frustrating. Doesn’t it get to you when your witnesses don’t keep quiet when you want them to?”

“It does, but I’m more used to it. You have to have faith that the killer will slip up or that in all the talk someone will say something that gets you a step farther than you were the day before.”