Cal chuckled to himself, remembering Jules’s dig last night about him stating the obvious and almost used the Duh 101 line on his brother.
Instead, he just nodded and climbed out of his Jeep into the bright sun. Today would be another warmer-than-usual day by the looks of it.
Wyatt followed him to the back door of the shop and waited while Cal knocked. Cal swept his gaze around the lot, looking for signs anything had changed since yesterday. Tire tracks in the dirt. A bit of trash. Flattened grass at the edge of the lot that could mean someone had tromped through the weeds.
A quiet buzzing brought his attention to a paper plate just down from the back door. Flies and a lone bee swarmed around what appeared to be the remnants of some kind of brown mush. Next to the dirty plate was a chipped bowl with water. She was still feeding the stray then. He smiled, recognizing this kindness to a stray as an indication of Jules’s tender heart.
Jules answered the door a few seconds later, looking lovely despite the dark smudges under her eyes that suggested she hadn’t slept well. She gave Cal a suspicious scowl, but when she turned to Wyatt, her expression brightened to a welcomingsmile. “Hello there. Let me guess. You’re Sheriff Colton’s brother, the police detective. You have the same eyes.”
Wyatt tapped a finger to his nose. “Good guess.” He offered his hand. “Detective Wyatt Colton. And you’d be Jules Bailey?”
Her smile brightened as she tapped her own nose, then gripped Wyatt’s hand. “How can I help you, Detective?”
Cal frowned as he watched the cordial exchange. What was happening here? Where was the snarky woman he’d met yesterday?
“I know you’ve already talked with the sheriff, but I’d like to ask my own questions, if you have a few minutes?”
“Certainly. Come in, please.” She stood back and waved Wyatt inside. When Cal followed his brother, she gave him a wry look. “You always tag along with your little brother?”
There she was. Miss Sarcasm was back.
He met her jibe with a cocky you-can’t-rile-me grin. “When official business calls for it.”
She rolled her eyes, then led Wyatt to the break room. “Can I get you something to drink, Detective? Coffee? A soft drink?”
“No thanks,” Wyatt said, settling at the rickety Formica table where Cal had sat yesterday to interview her.
“I’d love a cup of coffee. Black,” Cal said, testing her.
She gave him a flat look, then hitched her head to the counter where the coffee maker sat, the pot a quarter full. “Knock yourself out.”
He arched an eyebrow. Why was Wyatt getting the red carpet and glowing reception that he most certainly had not? And why did he care?
She took the chair across from Wyatt, her expression open and pleasant. “Fire away, Detective. What questions do you have?”
Wyatt put a small digital recording device on the table, then stated his name, the date, time and location and asked Jules tostate her full name. “Does the name John Harper mean anything to you?”
“Not before yesterday. Cal told me that’s who they identified the man found dead by the sculpture to be.”
Wyatt cast a glance toward him, lifting one eyebrow. “Caltold you that, did he?” His brother’s expression and emphasis on his name told Cal it was her familiar use of his first name that intrigued him more than his divulging case information to Jules.
“Yes,” she said.
“Had you seen John Harper before his body was discovered yesterday?” Wyatt asked.
She nodded. “As I told Sheriff Colton yesterday, I recognized the dead man, because he’d come into the gift shop at closing time the night before.”
“Alone?”
“At first. Then another man came in and spoke to him for about thirty seconds before he left again. Then Harper left a minute or so after that without buying anything or speaking to me. That was the only time I ever saw him until the next morning, when he was found dead.” She cocked her head to one side. “I already told your brother all of this. Didn’t he share his notes with you?”
“He did, but I wanted to verify some facts and dig a little deeper,” Wyatt said.
She flashed an agreeable, maybe even flirtatious, smile. “And I’d wager you’re also checking to see if my story changes, eh, Detective?”
“Just striving for accuracy and some more detail. Right now, you’re our best lead, since you saw the man that was last seen with Harper.”
Jules nodded. “Understood. Except I don’t know how valuable my description of the man could be. I couldn’t see himclearly because the hood of his sweatshirt shielded his face, and he kept his back to me.”
