Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 2

Bobby shook his head.

  “We’ve wondered the same thing,” Teri told her. “Bobby’s known him practically his entire life and James has never done anything like this.”

  “Why are you so sure he won’t be back?” she asked.

  Neither Teri nor Bobby seemed inclined to answer.

  “See?” she cried with a sense of triumph. “You’re not sure at all. I think we’re overreacting here. James loves us. Give him a day or two, and once this has blown over, he’ll be back in his apartment as if nothing happened.”

  Bobby stared at her. “He took everything with him.”

  “What…what do you mean, everything?”

  Bobby and her sister exchanged a look.

  “He’s taken all his personal stuff—his computer, clothes, books,” her sister explained. “He’s gone, Christie, and we’re guessing he’ll never show his face in Cedar Cove again.”

  Gone. For good. Took everything. Won’t be back.

  Bobby knew James better than anyone, and if he thought James had left for good, he was probably right.

  “Why would he do something like that?” Christie managed to croak out.

  Bobby didn’t answer.

  Men never stayed in her life. She’d told herself he was different. Special. She’d trusted him, and at the first sign of trouble James had fled.

  Gazing up at the ceiling Christie blinked back tears. “Why is it,” she asked sarcastically, “that I have this ability to fall for all the wrong men?” At least this one hadn’t beaten or robbed her or cheated with another woman. Nor had he drunk her out of house and home.

  Oh, no, James “Wilbur” Gardner was special, all right. He hadn’t done any of those things; instead, he’d broken her heart more thoroughly, more completely, than any other man ever had. An all-consuming pain rippled through her.

  “Merry Christmas to you, too,” she said and surged to her feet.

  “I’m sorry,” Teri murmured. “We didn’t…I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas.”

  “You didn’t,” she said flippantly. “In fact, the holidays are just getting started. Come to think of it, I’ve got a lot of celebrating to do.” On a mission now, she grabbed her purse and headed for the front door. If she hurried, she’d make it to The Pink Poodle before the end of happy hour.

  Thirty-Five

  This was exactly what Dave Flemming had feared. Sheriff Davis had asked him to “voluntarily” stop by his office for questioning, claiming this matter couldn’t wait until after Christmas. He’d emphasized the word voluntarily, as if to suggest that if Dave didn’t come of his own accord, he’d be obliged to send a deputy to escort him.

  “You’re going to go, aren’t you?” Emily asked, standing next to him in the kitchen.

  Dave still held the telephone receiver in his hand. “I don’t think I have a choice.”

  His wife regarded him with wide, worried eyes. “Maybe we should have an attorney present.”

  Instinct told Dave that he should. “Attorneys cost money. We can’t afford one.”

  “We can’t afford not to have one,” Emily insisted. “If there’s any possibility that Sheriff Davis will arrest you, then…” She stopped abruptly.

  “I didn’t steal anything from Martha Evans,” he said. He knew Emily believed him, but he couldn’t resist defending himself. “The truth will set everything right.”

  “Don’t you ever watch crime shows?” His wife flared. “The police don’t care if you’re innocent. They just want a conviction.”

  “Emily.” That might be true in the land of television, but it wasn’t the case in Cedar Cove. Sheriff Davis was an honorable man who cared far more about justice than his conviction record.

  “I could sell something.” Emily twisted her wedding band around her ring finger. “I could go to a pawnshop—”

  “I refuse to even discuss it.”

  “What about Roy McAfee?” Emily suggested next, sounding panicky. “Since we’re already paying him, maybe—”

  “I offered to pay him but he wouldn’t accept.”

  Emily wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Dave, listen to reason, would you? If you go to jail—”

  “That’s not going to happen.” He sounded confident but he had little to base that on. Just his own innocence and Roy McAfee’s apparent belief that he hadn’t stolen from Martha Evans’s estate. Roy had mentioned another suspect but that was days ago, so Dave assumed nothing had come of it. If the sheriff did decide to arrest him, then and only then would he have Emily hire an attorney.

  His wife closed her eyes. “I wish you watched Law & Order more often. Then you’d know what I’m talking about.”

  He didn’t have time for television. “You’re overreacting. If I was in New York City, yes, I’d pay for legal representation, but this is Cedar Cove and the sheriff is a friend.”

  Emily considered that for a moment, then said, “I’m afraid Sheriff Davis won’t be your friend once he looks at the accumulated evidence.”

  Dave sighed. From the outside, it looked as if he was indeed the guilty party. He couldn’t even explain most of the so-called evidence stacked against him. He didn’t have any idea how those diamond earrings had found their way into his suit pocket.

  He couldn’t explain why the letter he’d seen with his own eyes had never made it into Martha’s last will and testament.

  He decided to take Emily’s advice.

  “I’ll call Roy,” Dave said. He trusted Sheriff Davis, but it wouldn’t hurt to have someone on his side. Dave hated the thought of having to defend himself. He was an honest man. But no one was above suspicion. Including a pastor.

  Emily folded her hands prayerfully. “Thank God you’re willing to have Roy there.”

  Dave tried to be optimistic. However, if he was arrested and charged, Emily would never be able to manage financially. Within a few weeks they’d be hopelessly behind on their bills. The house would go into foreclosure, and his wife and sons would have to move in with her parents. What a mess all their lives would be.

  Dave couldn’t allow his mind to wander down such dangerous paths. Still, it remained a possibility. He could very well be arrested.

  He turned to the phone again and dialed Roy’s number. Emily watched him closely. A minute later he hung up.

  “Well?” his wife asked anxiously.

  “I spoke with Corrie. She said Roy’s already down at the sheriff’s office and it would be a good idea if we left now.”

  Her face pale, Emily nodded. “I’ll get my coat.”

  Suddenly uncertain, Dave wrung his hands. “I think I’d prefer to wait,” he said.

  “Wait?” Emily exploded. “For what? To be arrested?”

  “I’d like to put this off until after Christmas.”

  “Dave, be realistic,” she pleaded. “We can’t have this hanging over our heads through the holidays. You don’t believe putting this off, even for an hour, is going to help, do you?”

  “What about the Christmas Eve services at church?” Would Sheriff Davis let him out of jail to conduct a religious service? It didn’t make sense, no matter how many promises he made to come back at midnight.

  “Roy’s with the sheriff. He’ll protect you.”

  His wife held the private investigator in high regard. Dave knew that Roy would do what he could, but wouldn’t stand in the way of the law. If Sheriff Davis felt he had no choice but to make an arrest, nothing Roy said was going to change his mind.

  Then again, his wife had a point. The weight of all this had nearly buried him; he wasn’t sleeping well, his appetite was gone and his nerves were stretched to the breaking point. He had to be willing to trust that God would see him through, regardless of the outcome. This was without a doubt the biggest leap of faith he’d made since accepting his call to the ministry.

  “Let’s go,” he whispered, inhaling a deep, fortifying breath.

  Neither of them spoke on the drive downtown. It seemed that everything had already been said. They were abou
t to confront whatever needed to be confronted. Together.

  Fifteen minutes later, Dave and Emily walked hand in hand into the sheriff’s office. Phones rang, uniformed men and women scurried about, and there was an atmosphere that was both controlled and frenetic.

  Dave introduced himself to the receptionist, who apparently recognized him.

  “I’ll tell Sheriff Davis you’re here.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said.

  His wife’s hand tightened around Dave’s. “Geoff Duncan’s here, too,” she whispered.

  They both knew why. He was there to explain that the letter Emily had asked to see wasn’t in the file the way Dave had claimed it would be.

  “He didn’t show up for either of the counseling sessions I scheduled,” Dave whispered back. The second cancellation had been a blessing in disguise. The stable for the live Nativity had to be rebuilt after the donkey had kicked the side wall and the entire structure collapsed.

  Dave and several volunteers had spent a couple of hours repairing it. Later that afternoon, he’d been on the phone for a solid hour seeking a replacement donkey—one with a gentler nature. He couldn’t have made the counseling session even if Geoff and his fiancée had shown up.

  Allan Harris arrived, looking harried and impatient. He frowned at Dave, then moved across the waiting area to his legal assistant. “Do you know what this is about?” he demanded.

  Geoff seemed to be ignoring them and under the circumstances Dave couldn’t complain.

  “You were called here, too?” Emily asked.

  Allan set his briefcase down and methodically removed his leather gloves, one finger at a time. “Yes. I’ve got appointments I’ve had to reschedule. And without Geoff to answer the phone, I had to close the office.”

  Dave was about to mention that this wasn’t exactly convenient for him, either. He chose to keep the comment to himself and felt certain God would reward him.

  Just as Allan seemed on the verge of saying something else, Sheriff Davis came out of his office. Roy McAfee was with him. The private detective’s eyes went directly to Dave and Emily. He nodded once in recognition. Dave tried to read his look and couldn’t.

  “I’d like Allan, Dave, Emily and Geoff to step into my office,” the sheriff said.

  Chairs had been set up in advance, and they all took their places. Allan carefully laid his long tailored coat over his knees.

  “This is a bit unconventional,” the attorney muttered.

  “Yes, I suspect it is,” Sheriff Davis agreed. “However, I think my reasons will become quite clear.” He glanced around the room. “Dave, would you mind if I asked you a few questions in front of the others?”

  Dave turned to Roy, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod. “I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “Good.” Sheriff Davis claimed his own seat. The only one left standing was Roy McAfee.

  “Dave, you were a friend of Martha Evans, am I correct?”

  He answered forthrightly. “Martha was part of our church family.”

  “I understand,” the sheriff murmured.

  The attorney looked pointedly at his watch as if to say he didn’t have time for this. Geoff Duncan, in the chair farthest from Dave and Emily, also seemed eager to get this over with. Dave felt the same way, but for his family’s sake—and his own—he needed this settled.

  “In the last days of her life you stopped by as often as two and three times a week.”

  “You have to realize that Martha was well into her eighties, but her mind was as sharp as the proverbial tack. Her body had started to fail but she wanted to stay in her home, which is why her family arranged for the visiting nurse.”

  Sheriff Davis inclined his head. “You say she gave you the gold watch.”

  “Yes. She’d written a letter to that effect. I saw it myself. She told me her attorney would be coming by later in the day and that she’d hand it to him.”

  The sheriff turned to Allan Harris. “Did you make a habit of visiting Martha Evans’s home?” he asked.

  Allan met the sheriff’s gaze squarely. “She lived close to the courthouse and it certainly wasn’t a problem. I’d known Martha for years. She was a good friend of my mother’s. I was happy to do her a small favor.”

  “Did you ever send your legal assistant to her home instead?”

  “Just once,” Geoff inserted. “He asked me to drop some papers off on my way home from work one afternoon.”

  “Is that true?” The sheriff looked searchingly at the attorney.

  Allan Harris concurred. “That’s true. It was just the one time.”

  “Do you remember exactly when that was?”

  Allan Harris reached for his briefcase. “I can tell you in a moment. It was the same day as the deposition for…” He let the rest fade as he checked the calendar on his BlackBerry. “I have it here. That would be September sixth.”

  “The sixth,” Sheriff Davis repeated and wrote down the date. Then he glanced at Dave. “Do you recall when you discovered Martha’s body?” he asked.

  It wasn’t something Dave was likely to forget. “Two days later,” he said.

  “The eighth.” The sheriff nodded. “And she gave you the watch on which day?”

  “The sixth.”

  “In other words, it was two days before her death. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And she had the letter at that time?”

  “Yes.”

  “The same day Mr. Harris sent his assistant to Martha’s home.”

  Geoff Duncan was on his feet. “Now, listen, if you’re suggesting I had anything to do with this—”

  “As a matter of fact I’m more than suggesting,” Sheriff Davis said without missing a beat. “I’ve subpoenaed your bank statement.” He opened a file and handed the sheet to Geoff Duncan. “I also have the statement of a Seattle pawnshop owner who’s willing to testify that you pawned several diamond rings.”

  The room crackled with electrifying silence.

  “Geoff Duncan?” Emily whispered, her eyes wide as she looked at Dave.

  He squeezed her hand. He would never have suspected the younger man. It hadn’t so much as occurred to him.

  Geoff fell back into his chair and stared into the distance with a dazed expression. “I…I needed the money.”

  Dave briefly closed his eyes and recalled the conversation with Geoff a few weeks ago when he’d proudly told him about his fiancée. Lori Bellamy was from one of the most prominent families in the area, and apparently Geoff felt obliged to keep her in the style to which she was accustomed—even though he couldn’t afford to do it.

  “Geoff.” Allan Harris said the other man’s name in a hushed voice. He must’ve been feeling shock, incredulity and sadness, Dave thought. “Why?”

  Geoff refused to answer. “I’m not saying another word until I speak with an attorney.”

  “I’m an attorney,” Harris reminded him caustically.

  “I want a criminal attorney, not one who specializes in probate.” The other man’s eyes sparked with indignation.

  “Then by all means, find one.”

  Sheriff Davis opened his office door, and a deputy walked in. While handcuffing Geoff Duncan, he recited his rights.

  “I know my rights,” Geoff snapped. “This isn’t necessary.”

  The deputy didn’t listen and led him out of the office.

  Dave sat there in stunned disbelief. “Martha gave him the letter.”

  “I’m sure he destroyed it,” Roy McAfee said, speaking for the first time.

  “How did he know where she kept her jewelry?”

  Roy answered this. “As I told Dave, the freezer’s not exactly an original place to hide your valuables.”

  “He probably took them that very day,” Allan said. “Martha’s hearing was bad and she wouldn’t have heard him open the freezer door.”

  “But…why frame me?” Dave asked.

  “You made a convenient target,” Roy said. “Y
ou’re the one who found her.”

  “When did he put the earrings in my suit coat?” Dave asked with a frown. “Oh—wait. I left my jacket at Martha’s that day.”

  It had completely slipped his mind until now. The day had been warm and he’d taken off his coat, then returned the same afternoon—obviously after Geoff’s visit—to pick it up. He’d hung it on the back of his office door, where it stayed…until Emily took it home.

  “Geoff guessed, and rightly so, that you knew where she kept her jewelry. You had the gold watch and it was easy enough to destroy the letter and plant evidence on you.”

  Dave felt foolish. He hadn’t even noticed that there was anything in the pockets; he’d carried it to the office and hung it up.

  “How did you figure it out?” Allan Harris asked the sheriff.

  Troy grinned. “Actually it was a simple matter of putting two and two together. Once I got hold of the pawnshop receipt and had Geoff’s name, I was able to subpoena his bank records. There was no other way to explain those hefty deposits.” He gestured at the private investigator. “Roy helped me out—he has contacts in the Seattle area who were able to steer me toward local pawnshops.”

  “Sheriff Davis gives me too much credit,” Roy said. “We got lucky. Once we had a photo of Duncan and pictures of the missing jewelry, it was just a matter of doing a little legwork. So the sheriff sent a deputy to a few of the higher-end pawnshops—and everything fell into place.”

  Dave Flemming owed the sheriff and Roy a debt of gratitude. He knew they’d say they were only doing their jobs, but they could have taken the evidence at face value. He would be eternally glad they hadn’t.

  “Are we free to go?” Emily asked.

  Sheriff Davis nodded. “One question first.”

  “Sure.”

  “What do you want me to do with the gold watch?”

  Dave didn’t hesitate. “Return it to her family. Can we go now?”

  The sheriff grinned. “You’re taking up space in my office, Pastor Flemming. It seems to me you’ve got a Christmas program to prepare. Am I right?”

  Dave looked from one man to the other. “I do. And…and,” he stammered, “thank you. Thank you both.”

  “Thank you so much,” Emily chimed in.