Page 82 of Skin and Bones

“I’m fine,” I said. “Was just thinking.”

“About what?” Bea asked, curiously.

“I can’t remember now,” I lied. “What were you saying, Dottie?”

“I was just asking if you wanted more casserole.”

I looked down at my full plate and said, “I think I’m okay.”

“So tell us the scoop,” Walt said. “Is Reynolds talking yet?”

“Barely,” Dash replied, accepting the coffee Deidre thrust into his hands with a grateful nod. “He lawyered up pretty quick. He’s got an alibi for the night Vanessa was murdered so he knows he’s clear on that. He’s trying to work a deal, hinting he can give us Elizabeth and Vanessa’s murderer.”

“I’m surprised he was working alone all these years,” I said. “What about Larson? They always seemed thick as thieves.”

Dash shook his head. “That’s the interesting part. Larson was actually the one who helped us catch Reynolds. He noticed the discrepancy in the radio logs—that Reynolds had turned his off when he left with you.”

“Larson?” Walt’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. “I thought he was gunning for your job from day one, Sheriff.”

“Turns out he’s been quietly investigating corruption in the department for years,” Dash said. “Found inconsistencies in Reynolds’ reports dating back years. He just didn’t trust me enough to share what he knew.”

“Why the change of heart?” Dottie asked, clearly skeptical.

Dash’s lips twitched slightly. “When Reynolds put Mabel in danger, Larson drew the line. Seems he hates dirty cops more than he distrusts outsiders. He was the first one at the station when they brought Reynolds in—looked ready to take him apart.”

“So he’s one of the good guys?” Dottie asked skeptically.

“Let’s say he’s complicated,” Dash replied. “But he’s thorough, and right now, I need thorough. With Reynolds in custody, we’re down another deputy. I need everyone I can trust working this case.”

“Speaking of Reynolds,” Hank interjected, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “Don’t let him cut any deals. We’ll find out who did it without his help.” His blue eyes narrowed menacingly. “It makes me wish I was still on the bench. I hate dirty cops. He deserves to go away for a long time.”

“I agree with you,” Dash said. “One thing he did say that was interesting was that we’d been looking at it all wrong.”

“That fits with what he told me last night,” I said, pushing my plate away. “He said it wasn’t about the Harbor Development—not really.”

“We know something was going on with the Harbor Development,” Walt said. “There’s all kinds of evidence that those guys were doing dirty deals.”

“But that doesn’t necessarily mean it had anything to do with the murder,” I said.

“Then what else could it be about?” Hank said.

“The watch,” Dash said. “I think that’s our key.”

“Speaking of which,” Deidre interjected, her eyes brightening with the fervor of new information, “Dottie and I have been making calls all morning.”

“We might have a lead,” Dottie added.

All eyes turned to them, and Deidre sat up straighter, clearly relishing her moment in the spotlight.

“We called every high-end jeweler in Charleston,” she continued, “And on our seventh try, we struck gold. Marconi’s Fine Jewelry on King Street.”

“The salesman nearly swallowed his tongue when we described the watch,” Dottie added with relish. “Started babbling about client confidentiality faster than Bea can down a sidecar.”

“Speaking of,” she said, scooting back from the table and going over to the bar. “It’s almost noon. Anyone else?”

“How are you not pickled, Bea?” Dottie asked. “I’ve seen body parts in formaldehyde jars that aren’t as well preserved as you.”

“Should tell you something,” Bea said, slicing an orange.

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