“It’s a felony to lie to a federal investigator,” Ophelia said.
He swallowed. “I’m not lying. I don’t remember the adjuster’s name, and I’m not even sure he introduced me to the guy with the dog. Sorry.”
Ophelia dug deep for patience. “All right. Give me the name of your insurance agency.”
His brow crinkled, and he looked up at the ceiling. “Darn it. Don’t remember.”
What a jerk. “That’s suspicious. Did you harm Tamara and then burn down your own complex?”
“Of course not.”
Fine. Ophelia would obtain a subpoena for his financial records, and she’d also contact the Alaska Division of Insurance Agency for their records. “Did you hurt Tamara in any manner?”
He smirked. “Tammy was a good lay. Why would I kill her?”
Her hands curled into fists beneath the table. “Why are you engaged to that lovely woman if you so obviously can’t commit?”
“We’re not married yet.” He leaned toward her, his gaze intense. “I’m not the only one who can’t commit.”
She kept herself still and in control. “Meaning what?”
He shrugged, slyly licking his lips. “Guess who else used the Tundra for some nookie?”
She didn’t want to hear this. “Who?”
His focus flicked to the bar and back. “David Laurence dumped Monica Luna on Thanksgiving of last year. She rented a room from me for two months.”
Relief filtered through Ophelia. His sly look had thrown her off. “All right. So Monica lived at the Tundra. What’s your point?”
“My point? Your so loyal boyfriend, who I’m sure tells you everything, stayed the night with her that December. You know what, Agent?” He leaned even closer to her, the whiskey on his breath wafting over her face. “They were together the night…and morning of Hank Osprey’s death.”
Her stomach dropped.
Satisfaction filled Jarod’s gaze as he now sat back. “Now, I have to wonder. Why wouldn’t Brock give you his alibi for that murder? Perhaps she was his accomplice?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The heat of the tavern pressed in close as Ophelia stared at Jarod, keeping all expression off her face. “I’ll ask you again, and keep in mind I can help you if you’re honest with me. Did you kill Tamara?”
“Nope. Maybe Brock did.” Jarod smiled. “Perhaps she found out about Monica? Or maybe Brock dated her as well—most men in town did. Maybe she got too clingy and he killed her. That’s my bet, Agent.”
She forced her own smile, so tired her ears rang. But fury flowed through her blood, so she could at least focus. “Doesn’t track for me, Jarod.” Yet it did. Maybe. A little. “What if Tammy threatened to tell Amka about your affair? You know, the one that continued after you and Amka became engaged?”
Jarod lost the charm. “Like I said, I’m not married yet. Amka understands that. I sure as hell wouldn’t kill somebody over it.”
Ophelia faked a wince. “It’s the timing, you know? Tamara disappears and we now know was killed. Then her place burns down? All evidence in it gone? Even worse, you own the place and end up with a big, fat settlement payment?” Man, she was pissed. Furious. But she wouldn’t let this asshat know he’d gotten to her. “Sounds like motive to me.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’ve got nothing.”
Nothing. That was true. She frowned. “Who investigated the fire?” Sheriff Blazerton had died by that time.
Jarod shrugged. “The insurance folks sent out a guy, but the place burned to the ground. No foul play, Olly.”
It was really too bad the sheriff had died. She stood and leaned toward Jarod. “I don’t know about that. I’m going to do a background check on you that will tell me your favorite cartoon character when you were a toddler. You’re my number one suspect for Tammy’s murder, Jarod. You might want to find yourself a good lawyer.”
“Say hi to your boyfriend for me,” Jarod drawled.
“Count on it,” Ophelia said sweetly, turning her back on him to see Brock on a stool with his back to her, broad shoulders taut under his worn flannel shirt.
