“Stole it from Mace’s wallet. Shhh. Go nuts, but don’t spend it all in one place.” She puts a finger against her lips. “I love beinga detective! Maybe I should get a fun hat like your handsome private eye.” Josie winks.
“He’s not handsome.”
“Mm-hm, those arms, and I bet he has a nice butt under that trench coat. You should unwrap him like a present and find out.”
I creep up the stairs behind Josie. She’s walking like she owns the place—which I guess she does. If we get arrested, her husband’s brother is married to the mayor, and his other brother regularly sends bribes to the police. Not to mention her husband owns the factory that basically keeps this town running.
Me? My gran is a regular in the drunk tank, so maybe I’m not too bad off. But still. I can’t afford to be away from Jingle Bites, not when we’re so understaffed.
Josie and I walk into the musty office. It’s like stepping back in time to the seventies.
“Guess Jonah never updated after his dad retired.” Josie looks around at the wood paneling on the walls.
Dust motes float through the chilly air. On one shelf sits a photo of a man with a miniature train. Next to the photo is a bare patch of empty shelf, like something’s been moved.
“Jonah’s late father.” I snap a few photos. Then I thumb through the lawbooks, trying to see if he has anything hidden in them.
Josie opens desk drawers and rifles through papers.
“Anything?”
“Take a look at this,” she says.
We sit on the couch.
“Divorce papers.”
“Was he filing?”
“Yep. Cites irreconcilable differences, dead bedroom, claims Lenore disrespected him. I don’t think he filed these.” She shows me the Post-it. “I think his lawyer told him that it’s probably not a good idea to air all your dirty laundry in court like that.”
“So she didn’t know. If she knew, then I’d say that’s motive.”
“She could have found the papers or seen something on his phone, or he could have verbally told her, so his wife killed him. Then, instead of everything fifty-fifty, she would get it all.”
I sit back on the couch, rubbing my face. “We don’t have anything concrete.”
“Don’t speak too soon.” Josie reaches next to my arm and digs out a scrap of pink fabric wedged between the couch seat cushions.
We stare at the panties.
“I think these are too small for Lenore.”
“The perfect size for Taylor Grace.” I poke them with a pen. “How did the police miss these?”
“Full of nepo hires. Apparently, the Svenssons like it that way because they don’t want smart cops looking into their business.” Josie shrugs.
The front door slams. Then a current of cold air flows up the stairs.
We freeze.
Heavy male footsteps ascend the old wooden steps.
We look around wildly. Where are we going to hide?
10
HUGHES
