“No,” Florence said. “He was married to a nice Irish gal for forty years. She died, what? Maybe two years ago? Time flies, doesn’t it? Saoirse had fast-acting Alzheimer’s, and she went quickly.” She blinked away a tear.
Saoirse? Now that was an Irish name. “So they sold items from her homeland?” I asked.
Florence nodded. “Yes. Jocko always said he took the girl out of Ireland but wanted to bring as much of it home to her as possible.” Her lips trembled. “She was a good friend. I miss her.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing the words were inadequate but feeling for her. “Is there any chance any of these men know Sharon Smith?”
Bernie shrugged. “I don’t know. That was the first time I’d ever seen her, and to be honest, I haven’t seen her since.” He shook his head. “I got out of that apartment as fast as I could, and then I went home, trying to figure out how to save my marriage.” His voice broke. “I failed.”
“Oh, Bernie.” Florence reached out and patted his hand.
“Where was the apartment?” I asked.
Bernie squinted as if trying to remember. “It was one of those in the brick buildings on the Idaho-Washington border? It’s a pretty big complex.” He rattled off an address and apartment number.
I knew the the place. Aiden had been undercover with a motorcycle club that had owned apartments closer to the freeway, down the same arterial road. “I’ll figure this out, Bernie.” My stomach still hurt. Right now, Bernie had a good motive since he was still in love with Florence. If I proved that he’d been set up and had his marriage destroyed by Lawrence, then he had a phenomenal motive. “If this was a set up, is there anybody else out there who wanted to hurt you? Anybody who wanted you divorced?”
“Not that I can think of,” Bernie said. “I mean, Thelma has always thought I was cute, but she likes Florence a lot.”
Florence turned quickly toward him. “Thelma thinks you’re cute?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Humph.” Florence reached for her purse. “To think I paid their retainer for this case.”
Bernie smiled again, turning his hand over to hold hers. “Don’t be mad at her. She never made a move, and she won’t. Besides, I am cute.”
Florence giggled. Actually giggled. “Well, I guess that’s true.” Then she lost the smile and focused on me. “You’re going to keep him out of jail, right?”
I was going to do my best, but he wasn’t making it easy. “I’ll try. Are we still on for shopping today?” I needed Bernie to smooth the way with Jocko.
“Sure. I’ll be back around two,” Bernie said. “What about you?”
“Right now, I have to find Sharon Smith.” The only good news I had at the moment was that the woman’s name really was Sharon Smith, considering she’d been named in Lawrence’s Last Will and Testament. It was a start, anyway.
I just had to find her before Thelma and Georgiana did.
Chapter 22
The box arrived just after Violet, Oliver, and I finished eating pizza in her temporary office. Clark was in court, and Pauley had gone to his class at the college, while Bowser had grudgingly eaten his dog food in his new plastic bowl decorated with doggie bones, looking imploringly toward the pizza on the desk after every few bites.
I was cleaning up the mess when Oliver brought back a red foil-wrapped box decorated with a shiny silver ribbon that left sparkles in a trail all the way down the hallway.
“Present for you,” he said, putting it on the desk.
I finished shoving the pizza box into the garbage bag and straightened, looking at the box. “Who’s it from?”
“Dunno,” Oliver said, scratching his head. “It was right outside the door. Must’ve been delivered while we were eating pizza.”
I crept closer, leaning over to look at the ribbon. “There’s no card.”
“It’s very pretty paper,” Violet said, her voice hushed. “Do you have a secret admirer?” Her face grew animated, making her eyes nearly glow. “Or is this from Aiden? Does he give you surprises like this?”
“No,” I said, frowning. “Aiden is more of an ‘I’ll grill you a steak’ kind of guy.” Although, I was dying to know what he’d already bought for Christmas. Knowing us, it was a new gun for me. Maybe one with a pink slide. I leaned in even closer, turning my head to listen.
Oliver took three steps back, putting himself in the hall. “Is it ticking?”
Violet gasped.
