“Not that you’re not pretty… or that you shouldn’t compete,” he said, scanning my face.
I could almost swear he was embarrassed, and I had the urge to laugh.
He held out an open hand, waiting for me to deposit the ring. When I didn’t move, he tapped at his badge. “Miss Green, please.”
I didn’t budge, and neither Summer nor Katie Gilman said a word. If this were a Western, we’d be in a good, old-fashioned stand-off.
“I’d rather not accuse you of withholding evidence. But if I must…”
“If youmust? Surely you get to decide your own fate, Sheriff Strong.”
“Not as an elected official, I don’t.” He reached out his hand again.
“Fine.” I let out a heavy grunt and dropped the ring in his palm, refusing to touch his skin.
He moved his hand up and down as if feeling the weight of it. I could see the machine churning in his mind, coming to the same conclusion I’d reached. This was a man’s ring, not one that belonged to Aunt DeeDee. I knew her jewelry. I didn’t like most of it—too gawdy—but I knew it. This looked exactly like the ring that Mr. Finch had been wearing earlier. I hoped the sheriff hadn’t made the same connection.
“I thought you were taking my aunt to jail,” I said, attempting to distract him.
He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small clear plastic bag, and dropped the ring inside before stepping back on his heel. “I sent one of my men with her. I had a feeling I should stick around. Now I know why.” He glanced between me, Summer, and Katie. “My men already searched the room, so what exactly are the three of you doing in here?”
“I wanted to check out the curtains,” I said with an innocent shrug. “See if I could make myself a nice dress.”
“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,” the sheriff said without missing a beat.
Shoot. I hated that he could keep up with my classic film references.
“We plead the fifth,” Summer said a moment too late as she straightened her back and looked the sheriff in the eye.
I wasn’t sure if pleading the fifth even applied in a situation like ours, but sure. Crossing my arms, I took a long look at the sheriff, appraising him. “You arrested my aunt on theft charges, but I didn’t see what was inside the black bag your man carried. What exactly did he find? A shade of blush that will work for him?”
I was pretty sure I already knew, since my first clue had been the empty spot in the case filled with crowns. Still, I wanted to see how the sheriff would answer. If he told me this was classified information, I would suspect him of trying to pin something on her, but if he was straight with me, then he might be someone with whom I could reason.
“We found the Miss 2001 crown among your aunt’s things,” Sheriff Strong answered. “That evidence, combined with the letter that Mr. Finch left behind, is concerning, to say the least.”
Okay, fine. His response was reasonable, which I hated.
“You know my aunt only arrived this afternoon?—”
“Yesterday,” he corrected as he raised his eyebrows, highlighting how little I knew about my aunt’s comings and goings. This wasn’t a great start.
“Fine. Yesterday.” I tightened my jaw. “My point is that someone could’ve easily removed the crown from the case before she arrived—or, even after—and planted it in her room.”
“Except she’s one of only four people with a key to the case.” He began listing off the owners of said key, the same owners that Summer had mentioned: “Mr. and Mrs. Finch, Savilla, and your aunt.”
“Anyone can make a key out of… I don’t know… a paper clip.” Now I was just saying random words to combat the sheriff’s logic, logic that I didn’t appreciate.
“This is a beauty pageant, notMacGyver,” he said. “Regardless, do you know the significance of that particular crown, Miss Green?”
I didn’t answer, so he turned to Katie Gilman, who stiffened before raising her hand as if answering a question on my behalf. “It belonged to the missing contestant. From 2001.”
“Very good.”
Summer seemed surprised by this information, and I realized that the story of that former winner’s disappearance must not be a common conversation topic among current pageant participants. Perhaps only those who’d grown up in this town or been a part of it for decades knew anything about the mystery.
“Mrs. Finch was runner-up,” Katie continued. “Miss 2001 disappeared and Glenda stepped in and took the crown.”
Those last three words conjured Mr. Finch’s note:I’m only getting what I deserve from the one who took her crown.
