He wasn’t wrong about Aunt Eliza, but was he telling the truth about the rest of it? Had he pushed her anyway? From the tales around town, it didn’t seem like respecting boundaries was one of Herbert’s strengths.

  “Do you know the name of any of the other men she was seeing?” I asked. It was insensitive, but I wasn’t in the business of protecting the feelings of possible murderers. I needed to know if his version of things could stand up to scrutiny.

  “Only one,” he said through a clenched jaw. “Norman Peters.”

  Chapter 14

  Leaving the hardware store, I was in a tailspin. Norman Peters? The guy I’d already talked to? The one who didn’t think it was worth mentioning his relationship with Eliza? That Norman?

  My hands trembled with rage, and I forced myself to take a few deep breaths before I drove back to his place. Losing my temper wouldn’t get me anywhere. One of the things that made me so good at my job was my ability to keep my cool while making the other party sweat.

  It wasn’t even all that unusual for someone in the investigation to lie or mislead me. This time just hit harder because I’d been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt when everyone else in town hated him. I saw him cozying up to his blind old cat and fooled myself into thinking there was more to him than a grouchy old man.

  I knew better than to get sentimental like that. I knew I needed to rely on facts. Hard evidence. Tangible clues. My gut was useful for pointing me in the right direction, but it was never going to be enough to hold up in front of the police or a judge. It was time to take off the gloves and get down to what I did best.

  Even after my attempts to calm myself down, I still got to Norman’s place in what had to be a record time. I was done being yanked around and led astray. Someone was going to give me answers, damn it. I glanced over to Ollie, frowning. I didn’t know how this was going to go, but I didn’t want to worry about him being underfoot.

  “You stay here,” I said, leaving the car running with the air conditioner on. I might have been clueless about dogs in a general sense, but I knew better than to leave him in a hot car. Besides, with the car running, I could make a quick getaway if I needed to.

  Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.

  Norman answered my knock with the same gruff, “What do you want?” through the screen door.

  “I think you forgot to mention some things the last time I was here, Norman,” I said, one hand on my hip. He wanted to be rude and abrasive—two could play that game.

  Inside, his cat hollered loud enough that Ollie probably heard her back in the car. Norman scowled at me, saying nothing, then turned and walked inside to answer its cry.

  I wasn’t here to take no for an answer. I followed him through the screen door before the front door closed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in love with Eliza?” It was a reach maybe, but I hoped I could get a reaction out of him.

  Norman froze, clutching his cat to his chest, looking back at me like I’d caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. I was onto something. I took a couple steps closer, narrowing my eyes so they’d adjust to the low light faster.

  “You were, weren’t you?”

  Norman retreated a few paces and stammered something unintelligible before saying, “I cared about Eliza, sure.”

  “Why didn’t you mention it before?” I demanded, the edge back in my voice.

  Norman petted his cat with quick, jerky swipes. “Well... That’s, ah—”

  “Don’t lie to me again, Norman,” I said, struggling to keep my temper in check.

  “I know how it looks, all right? That’s why I didn’t want to say anything. People around here don’t like me as it is, and it don’t take much for an idea like that to get out of hand. Before you know it, everyone thinks I killed her—”

  “Did you?”

  “No!” he cried, clutching his cat closer. “I could never...” His voice broke off, tears springing to his eyes as grief pushed him down into the closest seat. The battered recliner whined under his weight, and the cat moved to the arm of the chair, kneading a bare spot at the edge. “Like you said, I loved her, and I ... I wanted to be with her.” He sniffed, then pulled a cloth handkerchief out of his pocket to blow his nose.

  I didn’t know what to believe anymore. Staying angry wouldn’t get me the answers I wanted, though, so I tried a more sympathetic route. Maybe that would lead to a confession. I sat down gingerly on his couch, keeping to the edge of my seat. “How long had you been seeing each other?”

  “About a year,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Missy started having trouble grooming herself, and I wanted to make sure the person helping her knew what they were doin.’ Eliza was recommended by just about everyone in town, and when she heard about Missy’s problems, she said she’d make a house call so she wouldn’t have to be in a strange place. She was so sweet and patient with her. After a while, the visits to see Missy turned into something more... At least, I thought it was something more.”

  The way it all came pouring out of him, I could tell Norman had been wanting to get it off his chest for a while. Did he have anyone else to talk to now that Eliza was gone?

  Don’t get sentimental, I reminded myself.

  “What was the fight about at the party?” I asked, leaving him no room to deny it.

  “I wanted to make things serious. I thought we’d been together long enough. I—” He blew out a heavy breath. “I was a fool,” he said, shaking his head. “Eliza told me she’d never settle down. She wasn’t a one-man kinda woman.” He stopped and swallowed hard, dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief. “I called her names I shouldn’t have. I left angry. I wish I hadn’t... Maybe if I had stuck around, I could’ve done something.”

  Norman stared off at nothing, reliving some other moment, I thought. His chin quivered, and I was sure he’d start crying again at any moment. “She surprised me, and I was hurt, but I wanted her to be happy. I didn’t want to force her into anything. I’m fine bein’ alone. Always have been,” he said, slowly building his tough guy wall back up. “Sometimes I wake up thinkin’ I can hear her laughter, then I remember she’s gone... I know no one else’ll believe me, but I could never hurt a hair on that woman’s head.”

  His show of emotion was moving, for sure, but I’d already learned my lesson with this man. Facts and evidence, I reminded myself anyway. Speaking of evidence... “Do you take any medications, Norman?”

  “I’m eighty years old,” he grumbled. “What do you think? My bathroom might as well be a pharmacy.”

  “Could I take a look?” I asked, knowing the answer before I finished the question.

  “It’s none of your business what medications I take. And I think you’ve made me relive enough painful memories for one day,” he said, standing from the recliner with Missy in tow. He crossed the room and opened the door with a pointed look. “You need to leave.”

  Damn. Not my finest work there. If I’d thought it through, I would have been craftier, but I’d had one too many bombs dropped on me today to be on my A-game.

  When I got back to the car, Ollie was curled up in the driver’s seat, doing a terrible job of convincing me he was asleep. “Go on, move it,” I said, shooing him with a tap on his back. He opened his eyes and blinked like I’d roused him from a deep slumber. Then he yawned and slowly stood, stretching his paws out in front of him before he hopped to the passenger side.

  The day hadn’t been a total wash, at least. I’d gathered enough information to piece together Eliza’s love life, messy as it was, and that felt like a big step. Back home, I spent the night typing up everything I’d figured out so far, recording anything that might be relevant in tidy bulleted lists. Ollie was wiped from the day of excitement and stayed stretched out under the desk, snoring like a chainsaw, every once in a while letting out a squeak of gas so potent it made my eyes water. I’d tried to encourage him to be somewhere else, but he always wound up at my feet again. Once I had everything typed up, I pulled out the picture of Herbert Johns’ medicine cabinet. There had to be at least a dozen different prescriptions on those shelves, but I only had to look up five before I found what I was looking for: an MAOI. Was this the proof I needed to finally make my case?

  Ollie let out a small yip of a bark, still fast asleep, his legs running through the air. I had to admit, it was kind of cute. Only because he was harmless in his sleep. He barked again, growling this time while he ran. I frowned watching his little legs go. Was he dreaming about chasing squirrels? Or was he trying to catch a killer?

  Chapter 15

  No amount of organizing, collating, and reorganizing my information was going to give me the answers I sought. I’d spent most of the night and the better part of the morning working to come to that conclusion. I was running on fumes and still trying to outrun the freight train of jumbled feelings nipping at my heels. Part of me was excited to finally start to feel like I was onto something, but that excitement was quickly stuffed down by the frustration of knowing I was still missing something.

  And the failure of feeling like it was right in front of me.

  I scrubbed my hand over my face after my second cup of coffee. Working on so little sleep wasn’t going to give me my best shot at success, but I didn’t have much of a choice. Every time I closed my eyes, my brain conjured an imaginary corkboard for my clues, tying them together with crisscrossing red strings until my thoughts started to sound a lot like a crazy conspiracy theorist.

  My phone rang while I was pouring my third cup—Chelle popped up on the screen.

  “Hey,” I croaked. I hadn’t used my voice since getting home last night, and I sounded rough.

  “Did I wake you up?”

  “No,” I said, clearing my throat. “What’s up?”

  “Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? Bryant has a basketball game out of town. I was thinking I could make your favorite gumbo.” She added the last part in a sing-song voice.

  My stomach lurched. It was way too early to think about gumbo. Just the mention of it brought on a flash of heartburn. But she sounded so excited. It’d been years since I had good Cajun cooking—I tried to keep a cleaner diet these days—but there was no telling when I’d get another chance if I passed this one up.

  “I thought we could have a girls’ night,” Chelle said when I hesitated too long. “Oh! You could bring Ollie over so he and Pepper can play.”

  I rolled my eyes at that. She couldn’t see me, so I didn’t have to hide how ridiculous I thought the idea was. I wasn’t going to pack up the dog to take him to dinner and a playdate. I thought I’d been pretty tolerant of him, all things considered, but that was going a step too far. I was not going to become a crazy dog lady like everyone else in this town with nothing better to do.

  “Dinner sounds great,” I said, making a mental note to pack some antacids before I went over there.

  “I can’t wait! Come over whenever you feel like it, unless— Did you need more help with your investigation?” she asked hopefully. Guilt twisted my stomach into knots. Chelle didn’t have a lot going on when she wasn’t cutting hair, and despite all the gossip she picked up at the salon, every time we hung out, I got the impression that she missed having someone she could talk to. Everyone talked at her, but who asked her how her life was going?

  I hadn’t. I’d been too busy letting her fawn over my stories of New York to even consider it. We could talk at dinner, though. A girls’ night would be good. A girls’ night would be safe, and I wouldn’t have to worry about her getting caught in the crosshairs if things went sideways.

  “I think I’ll be all right on my own today,” I said. Did I have any idea what I planned to do? No. But Chelle didn’t need to know that. I scrubbed my hand over my face again, wiping sleep crust from my eyes. A nap sounded like a good idea, but there was too much to do. Even if I didn’t know where to take the investigation next, I still had the matter of going through Eliza’s belongings for my keep, trash, and donate piles. Not to mention my actual job. Julian might have reassigned my story, but that didn’t leave me free to forget about work. I always needed the next story. Even when I finished one, there was no time to rest on my accomplishments. It was a constant churn that didn’t leave me the luxury of taking a breather.

  “I’ll see you later,” I told her. “I’m looking forward to your gumbo.”

  “Okay,” she answered, sounding unsure. “Be careful.”

  “I will,” I promised, setting my phone on the kitchen counter after the call ended. I stood at the sink, drinking my coffee while I looked out the window at the backyard. Ollie had slipped through the dog door while I was on the phone, and he was engrossed with smelling every square inch of his territory.

  Think, Lucy. In an investigation like this, I could leave no stone unturned. So where was the pebble I’d missed?

  There was at least one person from the party I hadn’t talked to yet. And I still had questions about the medication that had killed Eliza. Maybe I could kill two birds with one stone. I checked both of the medicine cabinets in her house and turned up empty.

  Of course, Eliza was the kind of workaholic who kept her medications at the office since she spent more time there than at home. I locked the door, leaving Ollie behind, praying he’d be well-behaved. At least all of my belongings were safe in the guest bedroom. If he wanted to destroy something of Eliza’s, there wasn’t much I could do to help that.

  He didn’t even notice I was leaving until he heard the door shut. Then I could hear him racing through the house before he slammed into the other side, scratching and whining to be let out. I didn’t plan on being gone long, though. He could survive on his own for an hour or two, surely.

  Darla was busy in the back when I entered the shop, so I popped into the bathroom, crossing my fingers I was right about my aunt. Sure enough, the shop’s bathroom had a medicine cabinet full of Eliza’s prescription bottles. I swept all the contents into my handbag, then headed into town.

  Shongoloo’s only pharmacy had still been a family-owned drugstore when I lived in town. Sometime in the last decade it’d been bought out by a national chain, but the only real difference was a new sign above the door. Even this early in the morning, there was a line at the pharmacy counter with only one person to deal with them all. The pharmacist, Duggar Ward, was probably in his late sixties, with silvering hair and a crabby expression that said he thought he should’ve retired a long time ago. Despite the line, he was in no hurry as he shuffled around, carefully examining each bottle of pills before handing them over.

  I’d been in line nearly twenty minutes when it was finally my turn.

  “Picking up or dropping off?” Duggar asked, looking at me over the rim of his gold-framed glasses. He glanced at his watch, more irritated by what he found there. Not quite ten thirty—a little too early for a lunch break, thankfully, or he might’ve just put the ‘Back in an hour’ sign up while I was standing there.

  “I actually have some questions I was hoping you could answer?”

  He expelled an exaggerated sigh. “Company policy is I can’t give any medical advice, so—”

  I plopped my purse on the counter. “I’m not after advice,” I said quickly, pulling out Eliza’s pill bottles. “I’m wondering if any of these medications have been tampered with or are known to have interactions with MAOIs.”

  Duggar’s posture straightened, and he narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re Eliza’s kin, aren’t you?”

  “Her niece,” I confirmed. “There was a medication in her system that the coroner didn’t expect, and I’m just trying to figure out what happened. Did she start any of these recently?”

  Duggar didn’t even look at the bottles. “I can’t answer any questions about another person’s medical history.”

  “Can you answer general questions about the possible interactions?”

  His frown deepened as he realized I wasn’t going to be brushed off so easily. He finally looked down at the bottles, examining the labels. Then he opened each one and dumped out a few pills to look at more closely. A couple of the bottles were empty, and he gave those labels extra scrutiny.

  “This isn’t even one of mine,” he said, passing over one of the empties—the supplements Eliza’s trainer Vince had given her.

  “Could it have been something in this?” I asked, looking over the label myself. From what I could tell, it was a glorified multivitamin with caffeine added for an energy boost.

  He shook his head. “I don’t see anything here that would have the interaction you’re talking about.”

  “And all of those pills are the right ones?” I pressed.

  Duggar’s posture stiffened, his expression suddenly closed off. “I already told that damn deputy. I might miscount once in a blue moon, but I’ve never given anyone the wrong medication, and I don’t appreciate the insinuation—”

  “I think you misunderstood me,” I said, trying to repair the damage before he could kick me out. “I thought maybe someone tampered with her medications, or maybe replaced them with another? The coroner mentioned that MAOIs are rarely prescribed these days. Is there anyone in town who—”

  “You know I can’t tell you that,” he said, shoving the pile of pill bottles across the counter to me. He looked past my shoulder to the two people in line behind me. “Sorry, folks, closed for lunch. Come back in an hour,” he announced, rolling down the metal shutter while his waiting customers grumbled about the inconvenience.

  With all of Eliza’s medications back in my bag, I left the pharmacy with my eyes glued to the exit, purposefully avoiding the glares sent my way. It didn’t matter if it was me or someone else at his counter; I was sure Duggar would’ve taken his lunch the moment he thought he could get away with it. Unfortunately, it was my honor to be the scapegoat. Just what I needed—more of a reason to watch my back around here.

  I picked up lunch for myself at the diner, then headed back to Eliza’s house to regroup. Maybe if I started writing my findings out the way I would with a story, something would click. If nothing else, it gave me the illusion of being productive when I didn’t know what else to do. It’d been a long time since I’d been so stumped over a case. Was I just too close to it? Maybe there was someone else who’d be better suited to look into it.

 

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