“Come on.” Eve offered her hand. “Let’s get you propped up on the sofa, and I’ll start dinner.”
“One other thing,” Bent said. “If Jackie’s handbag and phone are still here, I need to take them in.”
Luna pointed to the countertop behind him. “They’re right where she left them. I didn’t want to touch them. I intended to have Jerome take care of getting them to Leonard when he was home.”
“You were smart,” Bent assured her.
Vera gave her sisters a hug and reassured them while Bent rounded up an evidence bag for Jackie’s things. Then she and Bent headed out.
Outside, he hesitated at the hood of his truck. “I have to finish up a few things at the office.” He held up his phone. “Just got a text from Conover. The wife’s prints were on the knife.”
Vera raised her eyebrows at the news. “Looks like Alicia stays in that number-one-suspect spot for now.”
“Looks like.” He opened her door for her. “Your place or mine tonight?”
And there it was, the million-dollar question.
“I’m coming to your place.” She slid into the passenger seat. “I’ll even start dinner.”
He grinned. “I should invite you to a crime scene every day.”
A smile tugged at Vera’s lips. It really was time to make a decision about the future. The idea had butterflies taking flight in her belly. Made her feel a little off balance. She had long assumed she was too old and too jaded to get excited by a potential step toward a more permanent relationship. She’d been wrong, apparently.
Then again, maybe she should wait until they got through this investigation and straightened out the business about Jackie’s death. It was best to make the really big decisions with a clear head and from a place of calm.
Vera almost laughed out loud.
When had her life ever been calm?
9
Benton Ranch
Old Molino Road, 8:15 p.m.
Vera sipped her water. The steaks had been perfect because Bent prepared them. But the salad was a little wilted. She should have stopped at the store on her way here rather than just poking around in the fridge. Fresher greens would have been nice. A rich red wine would have helped. But Bent wasn’t much of a wine drinker—not much of a drinker at all since his younger days.
She might have thought to stop at the store if she hadn’t decided to check out Seth Parson’s room at the Best Western with Bent. She’d needed the distraction from what happened at Luna’s house. Anyway, the two of them, as well as Conover, had gone through the room Parson had rented two weeks ago, according to the manager. They found a few clothes and not another damned thing. Parson’s car turned out to be a 1977 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am in near-mint condition. It still sat in the parking lot. Other than a few receipts from gas stations and fast-food stops, they discovered nothing useful to the case inside the vehicle either. There was the usual info about the vehicle and the registration documents but not one thing related to Alicia Wilton or the woman with him, other than a pair of well-worn high heels.
Vera stood, grabbed Bent’s plate and her own. “I could use a whiskey, how about you?”
He got up as well and reached for the salad bowls, stacked them together and gathered the silverware. “Sounds like you have something on your mind.” He shot her a look underscored with an empathetic smile. “You were a little quiet during dinner.”
Bent was very, very good at reading her. Maybe a little too good. “It would be weird if I didn’t after the whole Jackie thing.” She settled the plates next to the sink, then one by one scraped their dinner remains into the trash. Vera shook her head. “This is not good, Bent. The kind of thing that can leave a fissure in a relationship—one that might never truly heal.”
Bent dumped the wilted lettuce from their bowls. “Jerome is a smart guy, and he loves Luna. I can’t see him believing his aunt’s accusations.”
Vera braced herself and said what she recognized needed to be said. “But what if there’s some truth to her story.”
He placed the bowls on top of the plates in the sink and leaned a hip against the counter. “Are you saying Luna admitted to pushing her mother-in-law down the stairs?”
Vera scowled. “She told me exactly what she told you.” Except he didn’t know about the time stamp on the hardware store receipt. Tomorrow, for sure, Vera had to check into that issue. Worry and fear swelled in her chest. Had to be a mistake.
But what if it wasn’t?
“You think she’s holding something back?” He elbowed her out of the way. “You pour the whiskey. I’ll load the dishwasher.”
She didn’t argue. “Let’s have that drink and then we’ll talk.” The chances of her sleeping tonight if she didn’t have at least one were next to none.
