Apples, Appaloosa and Alibis by Maria Swan (feel good novels TXT) 📕

“Hi, Bob, how are you?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” Always polite, of course. “How about you? Your aunt Brenda seems to be concerned about your state of mind. Can we talk?”

Can we talk? Officer Clarke wanted to talk to me? As Bob, Brenda’s friend, or as Officer Bob Clarke? Stop it, Monica.

I shrugged. “Sure.” I unlocked my front door. “Want to come in?” He knew me well enough to be aware I didn’t cook like Brenda, and most of my wine was “borrowed” from Brenda’s supply. “Come on in. Wait, is this about the—you know—the dead person at the Dumonts’ house?”

He cocked his head a little as if trying to read me. “Yes and no.”

“Seriously?” I rolled my eyes. “What did Brenda put you up to now?”

Bob glanced around my living room and then made himself comfortable on the couch. “She didn’t put me up to anything. But she knows you’re very concerned because you dropped Tristan Dumont off from the airport, and she said you tend to feel guilty about everything.”

I nodded, blood rushing to my face. If Bob knew about my driving Tristan home and Bob was an officer of the law, did he share the information with Detectives Adam and Eve? They obviously all knew each other.

“If you feel guilty about not being there when he found the victim, don’t be. Nothing you or Tristan Dumont could have done, she was dead long before he got home. And it would have really upset you to see her, I’m sure.”

I nodded, bit my lips. Better not say much as I tended to babble away. “Detective Eve, I mean Reid, Liz Reid, said that the name of the dead woman was Silvia De Aguilar and that she was the same one who showed up at the Dumonts’ on Tuesday when I was there to get their mail.”

He nodded. “Oh, so you already spoke to Detective Reid?”

“She showed up at the office, because of the business card. Do you know where they found that ripped piece of my business card?”

“I don’t know the details.” His eyes on me. “It could have slipped out of the victim’s purse when she fell. Most of the contents were spread out on the floor. Is that why you are concerned?”

“Concerned? No. Guilty? Yes. You see, the woman had asked me to give the other half to Tristan Dumont, and, well, I had it in my wallet when I went to the airport, but then forgot. Do you think Detective Reid will give it to him?”

“Not very likely, it’s part of the evidence. I doubt he would blame you. He didn’t know the woman at all. Supposedly you’re the only one who had any contact with her, so don’t be surprised if you get another visit from the detectives.”

“Bob...” I kept my eyes focused on the coffee table—wow, so dusty. “Bob, how did she... the woman...” If I said her name, it would become personal. “How did she die?” There, I asked it.

“I don’t know, results from the autopsy haven’t been released. Supposedly she had been dead for a while, but I’m going to guess—maybe a gunshot to the head? Because of the way the body was positioned. Again, I’m guessing, only saw photos, so please, don’t...”

Dead for a while? The dead woman had tried to return my call on Wednesday morning. Angelique’s silver Escalade was also at the Dumonts’ on Wednesday. Damn. I wasn’t going to let my mind go there.

“What’s going through your mind, Monica? Anything you’ll like to share?” Bob Clarke’s tone had morphed, as if the man talking to me was suddenly Officer Clarke. Could he read my mind? Time to stop blabbering and let him know I had work to do. I did, and he left.

My work consisted of worrying about two things: Greg Coste’s contract and Tristan. And yes, worrying couldn’t change a thing, but it was who I was, and I guess Brenda knew that. So I did the next best thing; I called Brenda. If I caught her at a bad time she wouldn’t hesitate to tell me.

The phone chimed once, twice, three times, then, “Let me guess—you’re mad at me because I sent Bob to check on you.” Ah, vintage Brenda.

“No, not really. More like wanted to thank you for it.”

“You what? Monica, are you sick? Did you eat today?”

“Yeah, yeah, mock me all you want. I mean it. Bob helped me sort out some stuff. Like the ripped card I was supposed to give to Tristan but forgot, and now the detective has it.”

“Whoa there, kid, slow down. Have you told me about the ripped card? What kind of card? Like a birthday card. What?” She didn’t know about it? Then I remembered. I shared the info with Angelique, but probably didn’t mention it to Brenda. Time to put her up to date.

“That’s what got Angelique so riled? And this morning she had a screaming scene on the phone, and I’m pretty sure it was with Tristan. This is all very unusual, she wanted to bring Tache up to the house in Phoenix. Leo, the newcomer, would drive up with the horse trailer. I’m guessing there is a lot going on at the house with investigators and the ever-present media, so Tristan doesn’t want his horse to get upset. Eventually I believe she drove up by herself without Tache. I haven’t seen Lois in a few days. I don’t know, Monica, I seem to jinx everything I get into.”

“Brenda, are you kidding me? None of this is your doing. Okay, I’m not sure what it’s all about, except that the poor dead woman must have known Tristan’s father. Maybe before he met Angelique?” I waited for a yes or a maybe; I got a long pause. The only reason I knew Brenda was still on the phone was because she coughed, that smoker cough I knew so well.

“I guess you don’t know the romantic past of Angelique and Mr. Dumont Senior.”