Page 2 of Hold a Candle

Starting to get a bad feeling about the way both of the young constables were looking at him, Jamie replied. “I’m her father, Jamie MacNamara. I run this business for her. When I came into work this morning, this is what I found.”

Wither’s eyes widened and one brow shot up. “Ye told the dispatcher that someone ran out the front door, but that door isn’t broken. How did he get out then if he didn’t break it to run away?”

Jamie couldn’t believe his ears. Had law enforcement standards of admission been lowered?

“He turned the dead bolt and opened the door knob?” He asked the question as a sarcastic statement, which made the young constable’s ears turn red.

“Seems to me if he was running away after attempted murder, he wouldn’t bother to unlock anything.”

“Have ye ever tried running through a locked door?” Jamie asked facetiously. “It’s nae as easy as ye think.”

“That’s enough, Withers,” Kearns scolded. “The detective will sort things out, that’s her job.”

The way the two constables stood with their arms folded made him suspect that if he tried to get in his car, they would stop him. He was glad he had his jacket on. The early morning air was crisp and making the tips of his ears cold. It was just breezy enough that the colorful leaves from the oak tree on the side of the small lot were swirling and tumbling over one another as they raced across the asphalt. It was going to be another brisk All Hallows Eve this year at the rate the temperatures were dropping. He shivered uneasily at the thought of the popular holiday. It was on the bottom of his list of holidays, or any day for that matter, to celebrate.

“Is there any chance of getting inside to my desk?” he asked.

Constable Withers shook his head. “Sorry, but nay. It’s a crime scene now and no one’s allowed in.”

Jamie didn’t bother to argue with him, they were just following orders. Still, the situation aggravated him. He was glad Lucerne wasn’t coming in today because when they did call her, it would mean Darro would be coming in with her. At almost eight months pregnant, her husband didn’t want her going anywhere alone, and Jamie fully concurred. This would be his first blood grandchild and he was looking forward to the baby’s arrival.

“Finally,” muttered Wither’s, as a compact white Ford Mondeo MK3 with the yellow and blue markings of the Inverness police force pulled into the parking lot. “Her Highness is here.”

“Better not let her hear ye say that,” Kearns cautioned.

Withers huffed, but Jamie wasn’t listening. He was watching as the car pulled up to the steps and stopped. He caught a glimpse of dark reddish hair as she moved behind the windscreen. When she finally opened the door and stepped out of the car, her long straight hair ruffled in the breeze, sending her bangs skittering sideways over her forehead. She closed the car door and revealed her shapely figure in a cream-colored sweater that fell just below her rounded hips. Nice, stonewashed jeans were tucked into soft, calfskin boots. Around her neck was coiled a warm, brown wool scarf, but it was her face that drew Jamie’s gaze like a moth to a flame.

As she started up the steps, he stood up to study her face closely. She was a true redhead, although her hair was a lovely shade of sunlit auburn. Beautifully shaped brows, a slender nose, and plump lips made her a natural beauty. The goldish-brown gaze studied him back. It was probing, dissecting his appearance, and making instant judgments based on experience. Her bearing was regal, her head high, and mocking dimples quirked the corner of her lips as if questioning his audacity to stare at her.

“Ye must be Jamie McNamara,” she said bluntly, stopping in front of him. “Ye found the body.”

It was a statement not a question, causing Jamie’s eyes to narrow at her language. “I found the man, aye. He wasn’t dead when I found him though. Are ye saying he is now?”

She folded her arms across her breasts and then nodded. “Did ye know the victim?”

“I’ve already told yer constables I don’t know the man.” He nodded to Kearns and Withers. “And I have no idea what he or the other young lad was doing here.”

“Did ye know that the person who finds the body is almost always the killer?” Her eyes were mocking, intending to throw him off kilter with her direct approach.

Jamie did know that fact, but he refused to be intimidated.

“Then it’s a good thing I have an alibi, isn’t it?” He pointed above his head to the security cameras that Darro had installed for Lucerne’s business months ago. “They work too,” he added with an impudent drawl.

***

PAULEY WAS PRETTY SUREthe man in front of her wasn’t a killer. In fact, she knew who Jamie MacNamara was because of the calls the department received for screening employees for the Happy Housekeepers business. She’d even seen him sometimes walking briskly down the riverwalk near lunchtime when she’d been driving to or from somewhere during her investigations. He was the sort of man any woman would notice.

His dark hair was evenly cut around his well-shaped head and interspersed with encroaching white tucked into its many layers, a manly roughness of a neat mustache and facial hair, and the most handsome smile she’d seen in a long time. He was smiling at her right now, even as he was mocking her. The intelligence that shone in his dark eyes told her that he was no fool and wouldn’t accept being pushed around without pushing back.

“Why don’t ye tell me what ye saw,” she replied with a brief glance at the cameras. If he said they worked, they probably did. They looked to be in good repair and his fastidious clothing and bearing told her he was no lay about slouch. The man took care of himself. The thought pleased her.

The number of men that hit on her since her divorce six years ago was endless. Most of them perfectly nice, middle-aged men with belly pouches who were either divorced themselves, or were looking to replace a deceased spouse they were lonely without. She’d gone out a few times for a meal, but she’d never repeated the same man twice.

If and when she ever married again, or even got into a relationship with a man, it would be someone she really wanted to be with. It would also be someone who wasn’t needy and could fend for himself without whining about her not being home to cook a meal. And one of her first priorities was a man who took care of his body. She worked hard to stay in shape for her job and well-being, so she expected nothing less of her next relationship.

If there ever was one.

Peter had left a sour enough aftertaste for her that she was in no hurry to bering-tied, as it were, to anyone again. Dismissing her ex-husband from her mind, she listened intently to Jamie’s first-hand account as he took her through what had happened since he’d arrived at work.

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