Melvin Whitaker hadthe same eyes as his nephew. Brown and deep. At the thought, standing on his front porch, I immediately forgot about the warrant. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I murmured.
He nodded, reading over the warrant while Detective Pierce, Nick, and two officers had already moved inside. “Thanks. He was a good kid just finding himself.”
That was probably true. “Do you have any idea who could’ve killed him?” I asked.
Melvin shook his head. “No.” He refolded the paper and focused on me. He was probably in his mid-sixties with silver-gray hair, dressed in black slacks and a blue polo shirt. We’d obviously caught him on his way to work.
“What exactly do you do at the seed company?” I asked.
He leaned against the doorjamb, not blocking my way but obviously trying to ignore the men behind him going through his stuff. “I’m a plant geneticist, trying to splice new generations of grass.”
“Just the lawn kind or also the marijuana kind?” I asked.
His gaze sharpened behind metal-rimmed glasses. “Both. Our labs are on the Idaho-Washington border, so we can do both.” He smiled, revealing nice dentures. “We actually had to extend the building farther into Washington state to make sure the marijuana research was only in that state. How weird is that?”
I nodded. “That really is. Randy was caught with pot. Was that from you?”
Melvin’s smile slid away. “I won’t discuss my nephew’s case.”
That was fair and probably smart. “Why do you live in Idaho?” I asked quietly. If Melvin researched pot and used it recreationally once in a while, why not live in Washington state to start with?
“I’m moving in two months,” Melvin affirmed. “I rented this place with my girlfriend for a twelve-month lease because she works in Timber City. Then she dumped me, and I’m on the hook for another two months. I let Randy move in since he was out of work, like usual.”
All of that added up nicely. I thought through the last week, since he seemed willing to talk to me. “Did you know Cheryl? Randy’s girlfriend?”
Melvin shook his head. “Not really. I mean, I met her a couple of times when she picked up Randy, but I never talked to her. Why?”
I shrugged. Her death hadn’t been reported in the news yet, so he probably didn’t even know she was dead. “Just curious. She had some pot from Randy, and I wasn’t sure how much.”
“I’m not talking about that,” Melvin said quietly.
Yeah. So, Melvin created species of marijuana, brought some home, and possibly sold it for extra money through Randy and Cheryl, or for the Lordes. That made sense, but proving it would be tough, especially since Randy and Cheryl were dead. I studied the geeky man in front of me. He didn’t seem like a murderer, but who knew.
He studied me right back.
I was almost out of questions, so I hit him with the one I wasn’t sure how to ask. “You know anything about baking bread?” If Nick wasn’t going to tell me what he’d really been asking Cheryl the other night, I’d try here.
Melvin’s chin lifted, and his narrow nostrils flared. “I’m done talking to you.” He turned on his heel and moved back into his house, already pulling a phone out of his back pocket. No doubt to call a lawyer.
What the holy heck was going on?
Going on instinct, I walked across the shared driveway and up Thelma’s sidewalk, passing the vibrant flowers. Pierce and Nick could handle the search at Melvin’s. Something told me they wouldn’t find a thing, anyway. Georgiana yanked the door open before I could reach it, and the scrumptious scent of chocolate chip muffins hit me before I’d even walked up the two small steps. “Come in, come in,” she gestured, craning her neck to see behind me at the police car at the curb.
I smiled and moved past her. Today she wore a set of big faded overalls over a shirt covered in bluebirds. Pink tennis shoes with matching pink scarf over her gray hair completed the outfit.
Thelma bounced from the sofa, silver hoops at her ears dancing. “What’s going on next door?” She was dressed in Daisy Duke jean shorts and crop top, showing the sagging skin of her stomach. “I changed into my hot-stuff outfit when I saw the officers. Who’s the lead guy with the dark blond hair?”
“Detective Grant Pierce,” I answered easily as Georgiana shut the door. “He’s in his early forties, and he doesn’t wear a wedding ring. I don’t know if he’s married or not.”
She fluttered her heavily mascaraed eyelashes. “Would you introduce me?”
“I’d love nothing better,” I said, meaning every syllable. “How about we let them finish tossing Melvin’s place first?”
She clapped her hands, her myriad of rings flashing different colors. “Lovely. I have always wanted to be a cougar.” Then she squinted. “Unless you’re saving him for you, of course. There’s nothing wrong with a daddy complex.”
“He’s not that much older than me,” I said thoughtfully, taking a seat on a chair when Thelma waved me that way. “Too young for somebody looking for a daddy complex.”
Georgiana rolled her eyes. “Would you like a muffin?”
