I perked up, my ears near flicking in place. “Florence McLintock?” Wait a minute. I thought she’d already had five or so husbands before settling down with Bernie, which was years ago. Yeah. If they were married for seven and now had been divorced for five, that was close to the timeline. “She’s originally from Silverville?”
“She’s from Bourn, which is a couple of canyons over toward Montana, as you probably know,” Jocko said. “We all palled around in our twenties, and she was the goal. Man, she was hot. We all liked her, but she had her eye set on getting out of Idaho. Married some banker from California who had a vacation place on Lilac Lake. That’s how she met him, I guess.”
I sat back, my instincts humming. “I hadn’t realized you all knew each other way back when.”
“Sure. Flo pretty much broke all of our hearts when she took off for California, but I found my Saoirse, and she was my soul mate. I miss her every day since she passed on. Flo eventually returned home, and when she hooked up with Bernie, I was happy for them both.” Jocko checked his gold wristwatch over his hairy wrist. “Was sad at their split, then happy again when she and Lawrence seemed to have found love.” He shook his head. “Life is weird, right?”
So weird. “Do you know Sharon Smith?”
“Nope,” Lawrence said, his eyes somber. “I remember meeting her at the CASA charity poker night because she sat at our table and was dealt in. Lawrence knew her and introduced her around, but my eye was on the cards, you know? She was pretty. Redheaded, tall, stacked. Maybe ten years younger than us. Never heard about her again, but we all knew not to bring up her name because of what happened. I figured she’d been visiting from out of town and didn’t want to know more than that.”
I wanted to make notes but instinctively knew it’d put Jocko on guard. “Did you see her leave with Bernie?”
“No. I lost all of my chips by eleven and headed home by myself. It’s no fun hanging around when you can’t play.” Jocko reached for the coffee again, took another swig, and then grimaced. “Ugh.”
“Who was left playing at that time?”
His lips pursed as he apparently tried to remember. “Let’s see. Earl lost before I did, and we walked out together to our cars. That left Lawrence, Bernie, Mick, and that Sharon. The other table had cleared out, and I lost. So that was it, I think.”
“Was Bernie drunk?”
Jocko shrugged. “No more than usual. He was still playing well and was in control. I was shocked when I found out he’d gone home with that woman. He loved Florence so much and seemed happy.”
I swallowed. “What if Lawrence set up Bernie? What if he drugged Bernie and only made it look like Bernie had cheated on Florence?”
Jocko’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Honestly? That’s crazy. Lawrence wouldn’t do that.”
“What if he did?” I pressed.
Jocko ticked his head, his gaze sharp. “Well, I guess I’d say that there are women in this life worth killing for—especially in a situation like that.”
My throat went dry. “Really?”
“Yeah. And Miss Albertini? Florence McLintock is definitely one of those women.”
My headstill rang with Jocko’s last statement when Bernie, Bud, and I walked into Earl’s Jewelry Store. Earl was over at the far display case, cajoling a twenty-something man into buying an emerald ring to match a necklace.
Bernie hopped happily next to me. He’d been downright gleeful after finding a new Santa suit with real white fur that smelled like magic. His words, not mine.
Earl rang up the purchase and motioned us toward the cash register, where he was already putting in my info. “Card?”
I reluctantly handed over my credit card, which still felt warm after using it to buy my Irish bounty.
He ran the card, handed me the slip to sign, and then gave me a bag with the watch box already inside. “There you go. Your uncle or whomever will love that.”
“My boyfriend,” I said, slipping my hand through the strong handles so the bag could hang from my wrist.
Earl frowned. “What about the cross you purchased already? How many boyfriends do you have?”
“Just one, and he already has a cross. I’m going to give the one I bought here to another family member.”
Earl looked at the bag. “That watch is not a boyfriend gift. That’s a buddy gift.” He grasped my arm and drew me toward the watch case. “You want yellow or white gold for a significant other. Not a fun black and white buddy-type watch.”
I sighed, the bag feeling like it weighed twenty pounds. My wrist ached. “How about a silk tie with leprechauns on it?” I had just the one, newly packaged from Jocko. “Is that a significant other gift?”
Earl, Bernie, and Bud all answered at once. “No.”
Wonderful. Just wonderful. “Earl? Could we have a couple of moments to talk?” I asked.
