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

Might as well go check the mail. Found a lonely letter addressed to Brenda from her car insurance company. I turned to go up the driveway and saw Bob Clarke crossing the street. What do you know, he was over at the widow’s, and I hadn’t even noticed. I waited for him to catch up to me.

“I talked to Brenda,” he said and patted my arm in a friendly, reassuring manner. Why couldn’t that blonde detective be more like Officer Clarke?

“Oh, so what do you think? Am I wrong at being upset?”

He shrugged, shook his head. What did I expect? The so-called blue wall of silence was alive and well I guess. He followed me into the house, and I felt like I should be offering him a glass of wine or something. Then I remembered it was just past lunchtime, and I’d had nothing but coffee and toast all day. Forget the wine, plus even if he wasn’t in uniform, he might be on call.

His phone went off, and he excused himself and walked outside. Well, so much for that. I had run out of excuses. I had to call Tristan and tell him what happened without sounding like a victim.

Just then Bob came back in, and he somehow looked/acted different. “Monica, just got off the phone with Detective Reid. Tristan Dumont is on his way to meet with her and Detective Ross. They would like to know if you’d care to join them.”

“Join them? Who? I’m confused. What is it some kind of party? Wait, have they found Silvia De Aguilar’s killer?”

Bob kept shaking his head. “No, Monica. Tristan is meeting with the detectives to discuss the letter De Aguilar mailed to you, addressed to him. Out of courtesy the detectives asked if you would like to be present, so you’ll know everyone is acting properly and following the law. To put it simply, they are acknowledging you are a good soul caught in the middle, and they are trying to make you feel better even if they don’t have to.”

It didn’t take a genius to know that Bob’s patience was running thin. I looked at him, transfixed, my mouth open, trying to decide if they were doing me a favor of sorts or using me as a scapegoat. Either way, it was worth the trip.

“I’m in,” I said. “Where should I go?”

“I’ll take you there,” Bob said.

I ran back to my bedroom, grabbed my purse and car keys—wait, Bob was driving. Fast detour through the bathroom, checked my mascara and lipstick and back to the kitchen where I grabbed a banana to eat in the car and a bottle of water.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Bob nodded and headed toward the door.

“Is this a new car?” Bob’s vehicle wasn’t a cop’s car nor the old sedan he drove when off duty. “New to me,” he said. “My squad car is in the shop, so I’m using an unmarked car.”

“Wait, like, it’s a real cop car except people don’t see you coming? That’s cool. I didn’t see any of the lights on top. Do you have a siren?”

“I can assure you, Monica. Everything is there, just like any police car except not in plain sight, and please, please, no touching.” He stopped my hand from reaching a latch under the thing that usually would house the glove compartment. Looked different in this car.

This wasn’t my first visit to the Phoenix Police Department nor my first sit-down interview with the Adam and Eve duo—except this time I was there as a guest. Fingers crossed this wasn’t a lousy trick.

We came in from a back entrance, so I had no idea if Tristan was already there or not. My heart was thumping in overdrive in anticipation of seeing him. Apparently, we had arrived before Tristan, and Bob lead the way to a pleasant, sunny office that wasn’t anything at all like an interrogation room, real or movie-like.

Eve, AKA Detective Reid was waiting. “Tristan Dumont is on his way up,” she said.

I recognized some of the folders on the large desk. They reminded me of the ones she carried that day when she confiscated my ripped business card. Could this be her office? Bob Clarke sat on a chair by the window. I assumed he had a partial view of downtown. Couldn’t tell for sure.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Detective Reid pointed to the two chairs lined up at the opposite side of the desk. And just then, Tristan and Detective Ross entered the room.

Tristan hesitated a second then walked over and pulled back the empty chair next to mine. I looked up. My eyes found his, and his held mine while he sat. I couldn’t find my voice.

“The detectives have shown me the original ripped business card and the envelopes.” Tristan spoke softly as if we were the only two people in the room.

I nodded, like a wind-up toy. “Monica, I’ve waited for you before reading the contents of the letter. Since Silvia De Aguilar trusted you, you must be part of this.” I heard the catch in his voice. This was the first time Tristan had addressed me by my real name.

By now Adam and Eve had undoubtedly decided we must be lovers. Well, the joke was on them. Somehow, I didn’t feel like laughing. My face heated up, and a large lump expanded in my throat. I tried to clear it by swallowing; it didn’t work. The tension in the room was intense. I wondered if there was more than the sharing of the letter on the agenda.

“Just to clear the air,” Detective Ryan Ross said, “we have concluded that Miss Baker was telling the truth in regard to having met Silvia De Aguilar for the first and only time at the Dumonts’ residence. And of course, the letter establishes that Tristan Dumont and the victim didn’t know each other nor had any previous contact until the time when he found