Page 69 of Skin and Bones

“Anyway,” Bea continued, “He dug up something juicy on Harrington Construction circa 1996.”

She spread financial statements across the table like a dealer at a high-stakes poker game. “They were practically bankrupt. Falsifying statements to banks, juggling creditors, borrowing from Peter to pay Paul—the works.”

“And if Elizabeth exposed their fraudulent Harbor Development deal…” I began.

“Junior would have lost everything,” Bea finished with a flourish. “Inheritance, position, future—poof!”

“That’s a powerful motive,” Walt observed, studying the documents.

“But it doesn’t explain the police connection,” Hank noted, adjusting his glasses. “And it doesn’t connect the past to the present of why someone dressed as a cop would break into Mabel’s home and leave Elizabeth’s watch.”

“The Harbor Development wasn’t just about money,” Dottie added. “It was about power. Harrington, Cromwell, and Milton formed an unholy trinity. Anyone who threatened that balance was swiftly dealt with.”

“This has to be a replica of the watch,” I said, studying it more carefully. “Look at the condition—it’s practically brand new. No tarnish, no scratches. If the original had been at the bottom of the harbor for years like Lucinda claimed, or even stored away for decades, it wouldn’t look this pristine.”

Dash nodded. “Someone went to considerable trouble to have this made. All we have is a couple of photographs of her wearing it. Since it wasn’t logged into evidence and there’s no mention of it in the case file, we don’t know if she was wearing it when she died or not. But someone knew about the watch. Either that Milton had deliberately left it out of the case file or that Lucinda was keeping it as an insurance policy. But either way, someone had enough knowledge of the watch to be able to make a replica.”

“We need to track down where this particular watch came from,” Deidre declared, tapping her fingers against the tabletop. “Dottie and I can start calling jewelry stores first thing tomorrow. A salesman is likely to remember a custom order.”

“I’ll call Lucinda in the morning,” I added. “I think she has some explaining to do about this watch.”

“They would have needed someone inside the department back then,” Hank said, the former judge’s mind clearly putting the pieces together. “Someone who could alter evidence, control the investigation.”

“And with Milton in prison, they’d need someone else on the inside now,” Walt added grimly. “Someone who’s been there long enough to know where all the bodies are buried. The evidence room break-in, someone familiar with the security codes, the officer Mrs. Pembroke saw…it all points to police involvement, past and present.”

As the others continued their discussion, I found myself distracted by a persistent thought that had nothing to do with Reynolds or the evidence. The memory of Dash’s kiss and the growing connection between us made any secrets I was keeping from him feel like sandpaper against my subconscious. The Baptist in me wasn’t really comfortable with guilt.

I caught Dash’s eye across the table and gave a slight nod toward the kitchen. He followed me a moment later while the Silver Sleuths remained engrossed in debate about which officers had been with the department long enough to be suspects.

“I’ve got a confession to make,” I said, keeping my voice low as I busied myself making a fresh pot of tea. “It’s about Jason Brooks.”

Dash’s attention sharpened immediately. “What about him?”

“Well, you see, when I called him about the case the other day…” I hesitated, my fingers tracing the rim of an empty teacup. “He asked me out to dinner. Said he thought I was beautiful and wanted to get to know me better.”

Dash’s expression shifted subtly, something darkening in his eyes. “Really,” he said. There was no emotion in his expression, and I fought the urge to squirm under his gaze.

“It caught me off guard,” I said. “I’m not really used to having attention from men. Other than you, I mean. But he was very charming about it—said when I’d been won over by his wit and charm I could call him back and accept his offer.” I shook my head. “I was flattered, but I had no intention of calling him back. I just wanted to tell you.”

“I appreciate the honesty,” he said.

“You don’t seem surprised,” I observed.

“Brooks has a reputation,” he said simply. “And Mabel, just so you’re aware, men give you attention. I’ve worked in this town a little over a month, and I’ve seen it time and time again and always been in awe of your naïvety. You’re a beautiful and successful woman—independent—a little intimidating.” He grinned and moved a little closer, so our bodies almost touched. “It’s just that you’ve only recently taken notice that there are men out there.”

My mouth dropped open in surprise.

“And just for the record,” he said, his voice going so quiet I had to lean forward to hear him. “I’m interested. And I don’t share.”

I inhaled a sharp breath at the promise in his eyes, and all thoughts of Brooks and guilt drained right out of my brain. His breath hovered over my lips and just before I got the chance to see stars explode behind my eyelids a loud crash came from the dining room, followed by a muffled curse in Dottie’s distinctive voice.

Dash and I exchanged looks, then moved to the doorway to find all five Silver Sleuths in various unconvincing poses of innocence. Dottie was picking up pieces of a shattered teacup, Bea was suddenly fascinated by her fingernails, Walt was pretending to study his notepad, and Deidre had mysteriously appeared right beside the kitchen door. Only Hank was facing us directly with his arms crossed over his chest. I felt like a teenager who was about to get scolded.

“The acoustics in this old house are remarkable,” Deidre said, adjusting her glasses. “Sound travels so clearly from room to room. It’s the way these old places were built.”

“We weren’t eavesdropping,” Bea said, abandoning all pretense. “We were conducting auditory surveillance. That’s the proper terminology, isn’t it, Walt?”

Walt nodded solemnly. “Standard reconnaissance procedure.”

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