Scene of the Crime: Bridgewater, Texas. Carla Cassidy
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Maggie shrugged, but Matt had a feeling he knew the answer. The roses. Somehow the roses were the key, but damned if he could figure it out.
“She didn’t go into any details, but we spent some time speculating on who might have a crush on her,” Maggie said.
“And who did you come up with?” Jenna asked as she pulled a small pad and pen from her purse.
“Oh, it was just pure speculation,” Maggie said. “We thought it might be Leroy Banks.” She looked at Matt. “You know he works as a busboy and cook at the café. Then we thought it might be Doc Johnson. When Miranda began working at the café he started coming in for both lunch and dinner and he always sat in her section.”
Jenna wrote down both names, her brow furrowed in thought. “Anyone else?” she asked as she looked at Maggie once again.
Matt leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his coffee, content to let her do the talking. She’d obviously established a rapport with Maggie before he’d arrived and if she wanted to do his work for him, at least for the moment, he wasn’t complaining.
“Bud Carlson. He’s kind of a jerk, he has that whole bad-boy thing going on, but Miranda told me she thought he was kind of sexy.”
“Did he act like he liked her?” Jenna asked.
Maggie frowned. “Bud flirted with her a lot. I told her that he was bad news and she should stay away from him.” Once again tears filled her eyes. “Do you think Bud did this to her?”
Matt sat up straighter in his chair. “Maggie, we have no evidence to suggest that Bud had anything to do with it.” The last thing he wanted or needed was for rumors to start swirling around and fingers pointing at a man who might be innocent.
“I don’t know what else to tell you,” Maggie said, directing her gaze to Jenna. “I’ve done nothing but think about this since the minute I found her dead, but I can’t think of anything else that might help.”
Once again Jenna reached across the table and took Maggie’s hand in hers. “You’ve been a big help, Maggie.” She smiled warmly and Matt felt the power of that smile igniting a tiny fire in the pit of his stomach.
Jenna looked at Matt. “You have anything you want to ask, Sheriff?”
He found it oddly amusing that somehow she had taken control and cast him in the role of second banana. “No, I think you’ve pretty much taken care of things.” He got up from the table and Jenna and Maggie did the same.
“Thanks for the coffee, Maggie,” he said as they reached the front door.
He wasn’t surprised when Maggie reached out to hug Jenna. What surprised him was the play of emotions that swept across Jenna’s face as she returned the hug. Raw and vulnerable, they flashed for just a moment and then were gone as she stepped back from Maggie.
“We’ll be in touch,” she said and then she stepped out of the door.
Matt fell into step beside her as they went down the sidewalk. “Partner, huh?”
“I didn’t tell her that, she just assumed it,” she said without apology. As they reached her car she leaned against the driver’s door. “Tell me about the men she mentioned. I can’t believe she didn’t say anything to me about a secret admirer.”
“Maybe she was waiting until she knew who it was before talking to you about it,” he said and then continued. “Leroy Banks is a thirty-year-old who works as a busboy. He’s the nephew of Michael Brown, the owner of the café. He moved here about six months ago.”
Matt tried not to notice how the sun sparked in her hair, making it look soft and touchable. Standing this close to her he could smell her scent, that pleasant clean, citrus fragrance that he’d noticed before.
“Doc Johnson is actually Patrick Johnson, our local veterinarian,” he continued. “He’s thirty-four and has always been a stand-up kind of guy. His office is next door to the café. Bud Carlson is in his late twenties, owns his own home improvement business and considers himself something of a ladies’ man.”
He frowned as he thought of Bud. “He drinks too much, has a hot temper and is the first one to look for a fight.”
“Have you talked to any of these three?” she asked.
“No, I didn’t know about them having anything to do with Miranda. You got more out of Maggie over a cup of coffee than I got in an hour-long interview just after the murder.” He fought against a sigh of frustration.
Before she could reply his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and answered.
“Sheriff, it’s Joey. I just got a call from George Hudson. He was hysterical, said Carolyn Cox is dead—murdered. He told me she was in her bed and she’d been stabbed. It sounds like the other one, just like Miranda’s murder.”
Matt’s stomach clenched tightly. “I’m on my way. Get Thad and Jerry to meet me there.” He clicked off the phone and dropped it back into his pocket.
“What?” Jenna asked.
“It looks like we might have another murder,” he said.
“I’ll follow you,” she replied, as if there were no question that she was coming along.
He didn’t have time to argue with her, nor was he sure he wanted to. If the information that Joey had given him was true, it meant Miranda Harris wasn’t an isolated case. It was quite possible that a serial killer was working in his town.
Chapter Four
Jenna followed Matt’s car, her heart thudding a familiar rhythm. It was the rhythm of the hunt. If what Matt said was true, then there was a killer in this town, somebody who had killed not once, but twice.
She caught killers. That’s what she did. If this murder was anything like Miranda’s, then surely Matt wouldn’t turn down her offer to help now.
He pulled up in front of an attractive duplex where a man was seated in the middle of the front yard sobbing. He pulled himself to his feet as Matt got out of his car and approached. Jenna parked just behind Matt’s vehicle and also got out.
“She’s dead, oh God, she’s dead,” the man sobbed, then reeled sideways and retched onto the grass. “She’d invited me to have breakfast with her. I got here and the door was unlocked, so I went in.” Each word came on a pained gasp and by that time a patrol car had arrived and two deputies got out.
“Jerry, take care of George, and Thad, get Raymond and Justin here, then start canvassing the area to see if any of the neighbors saw or heard anything.” Matt barked the orders sharply, his features taut with tension.
He went to the back of his car and opened the trunk, then pulled out a pair of gloves and booties. Jenna joined him there and looked at him expectantly. He pulled a second pair of gloves and booties from the trunk and handed them to her.
He didn’t say a word as she followed him to the front porch. There they put on the crime scene gear, then entered into a small, neat living room.
“Carolyn Cox,” he said as he looked around. “I think she’s twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old and works as a dental assistant.”
As he filled her in, Jenna looked around the room, knowing that every square inch of the duplex had the potential of containing a clue.
He went directly down the hallway and peeked into the master bedroom, then looked back at her and shook his head and returned to where she stood.
“No need for an ambulance,” he said and began to look around the room where they stood.
She was pleased that he seemed to work the way she did, slowly and methodically, not rushing into where the body was but rather allowing the scene to speak to him in subtle nuances.
“No sign of