So far, my list consisted of his son Hoyt, the mysterious Sharon Smith, his friend Bernie, the other living members of the Kringle Club, and his ex-fiancée, Florence. My gut told me that neither Bernie nor Florence had killed him, but I’d been wrong before. Really wrong. I also had a question mark at the bottom of the list because I’d learned that a case evolved rapidly, and more suspects usually showed up.
I dug in my purse for my phone and hit speed dial.
“Pierce,” Detective Pierce muttered.
I tried to infuse cheerfulness into my voice. “Hi, Grant. I hope I’m not bothering you during the weekend.”
“Right.” Apparently my voice didn’t melt him. “What do you want, Albertini?”
It was hard to imagine that he’d kind of asked me out once. “I might have a lead on who killed Lawrence Forrest, and if I hand it over, I need a favor.”
“How about you hand it over and thus don’t interfere with an active investigation?”
I tapped my pen on the paper. “Fine.” Then I told him about the will, slightly omitting the part about the guns going to the Kringle Club. Then I figured I should add that fact because no doubt Pierce would get his hands on a copy of the will by dinnertime. Finally, I wound down. “If you could do a run on Sharon Smith and find out who she is, I’d really appreciate it.”
“I don’t work for you,” Pierce said, not sounding quite as grumpy.
“I don’t work for you either,” I reminded him. “However, I just gave you several leads in your primary case right now, so maybe you can be a nice guy for a change?”
“Humph.” He didn’t sound quite so cranky. “I’m doing a run on all of Florence’s ex-husbands and haven’t found anything interesting.”
I perked up. Sometimes Pierce was a decent guy who shared. “Where are they?”
“One is in Australia, one in Scotland, two are dead from natural causes, one is in DC, and the final one is here. Bernie. Your client.” Papers rustled across the line. “I was able to speak with each one of them, and they all still love the woman, although seemed to have moved as far as possible away from her. She must have some magic in her veins.”
Well, that didn’t help my case any. “So no viable suspects?”
“Nope. Looks like your guy might be the one.” Pierce clicked off.
I looked down at the phone in my hand. So much for Pierce’s new love not making him so grumpy. “Jerk,” I muttered, sliding my phone back into my bag.
The smell of cheeseburgers wafted around, and my stomach growled. Tessa returned with two baskets of burgers and fries, depositing them and reaching for sodas from the counter. She sat and let out a relieved sigh. “The shoppers are out in full force.”
I pushed my papers aside and reached for the burger. “I can see that. It’s crazy, right?” I took a big bite and chewed contentedly before swallowing. “Are you finished shopping?”
“No.” She sipped her drink. “I know you’re not. You always finish up on the way to Mom and Dad’s on Christmas Eve.” The woman wasn’t wrong. “Did you find anything for Aiden?”
I sighed, my neck aching. If I had time and funds, I’d get a massage. Instead, I’d just have to lie on a tennis ball later that day and try to work out the knots. “No, but I have been piling up presents for everyone else in the family, including a new cross necklace for Knox, since I drew his name in the bigger family drawing.” I ate more of my fries, enjoying the extra oil and crunchiness that the cooks at Smiley’s had perfected through the decades. “I guess a cross wouldn’t work for Aiden anyway—it’s too personal?”
Tessa nodded. “Yeah. You’re at more of a ‘known each other forever but just started dating’ phase of gift giving.”
“Exactly,” I agreed, reaching for the ketchup bottle to squirt in the side of my basket. “I don’t know what that means. Socks and shirts are impersonal, jewelry is too much, and it’s not like he needs a new Glock.” I dipped my fries and ate more than I needed. “I’m at a loss.”
The outside door opened, and Nick Basanelli spotted us, turning instantly to head our way. I straightened and chose at that moment not to give Tessa a heads up. Sometimes I’m an ass, but I really did want to see them together.
He reached the table, lifting his hands in the air. “Well?”
Tessa jolted and swiveled, looking up at him. “Well, what?” she asked, a snap of temper in her voice.
Interesting. Very interesting. I just watched him, chewing my fries, my eyes wide. Nick Basanelli worked as the prosecuting attorney for Timber City after being a JAG officer, football star, and before that, a wild and rebellious kid from Silverville. He had two younger brothers, a dad who’d hit them and then disappeared, and a mother who was almost a saint. I’d worked for him briefly, and he’d fired me—probably because working with me definitely hindered his extreme ambition to run for office someday. “Hi, Nick,” I said, smiling.
He didn’t look away from my sister.Veryinteresting. “Hi, Anna. Rumor has it you’re representing Bernie McLintock for killing Santa.”
I sighed. Word sure got around. “You’re not charging him, are you?”
Nick finally looked my way, his tawny brown eyes showing both his Italian heritage and his extreme irritation. “Probably.”
“Great.” I drank more of my soda.
