“Six oh two. And, yes, there were a number of vendors already at the church, as well as most of the wedding party, so there are people who can verify the time. Would you like a list of their names?”

“Please,” he said politely, and took notes as she consulted her own notes and rattled off names, as well as phone numbers. God, these women were so organized it was scary. Madelyn hadn’t been on his short list of suspects but she’d definitely been a possibility, but this pretty much ruled her out. If she’d arrived at the church when she said she had, there was no way she could have driven to Hopewell, killed Carrie, then made the drive to the church, not to mention she’d have had to go home and change clothes, too.

She’d given Jaclyn a pretty good alibi, too. The t.o.d. time frame the medical examiner had given them put Carrie’s death pretty close to the time Jaclyn had left her—but if Jaclyn had killed her and then calmly went to have a muffin with her mother at a public restaurant, she’d have been covered with blood.

Carrie’s murder had been messy. Whoever had killed her had walked—or run—away from the scene bloody and enraged, likely in a panic. He’d play this by the book and wait for word that no blood had been found on Jaclyn’s clothes, but he was pretty sure none of these women ever panicked. No matter how he played the scene in his mind, he just couldn’t see Jaclyn Wilde losing her cool and killing Carrie Edwards in a rage. He could see her a lot of ways, not least of which was beneath him, naked and flushed, but not as a killer—and he shouldn’t be thinking about her naked, either, not until she was officially off the suspect list.

The problem was, though he could make his actions objective, his mind kept going back to the night they’d spent together, and he didn’t feel objective about that at all.

On the good side, he was one step closer to clearing Jaclyn. On the bad side, he was back to square one in finding Carrie’s killer, with a victim almost no one liked, and ass-deep in potential suspects.

There wasn’t anything more he could find out from Madelyn. She was clear, and she’d provided a damn good alibi for Jaclyn, though until he got the report back on Jaclyn’s clothes he couldn’t say anything. He’d be better off spending his time chasing down the other possibilities. He studied his notes for a moment, trying to think of any angle he might have missed, but everything was pretty straightforward. Finally he flipped his notebook shut and rose to his feet. “Thank you for answering my questions, Mrs. Wilde. I’ll be in touch.”

Again, she made that disgusted little snorting sound. It was almost like a feminine grunt.

The two other women were still in the outer office, their expressions closed and hostile. Jaclyn’s door was firmly closed again. Eric said good-bye to the two women, smiling warmly at them just to tweak them; the older redhead narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together.

Soon enough he’d have Jaclyn cleared, but by then it might well be too late, might have been too late since last night when he’d questioned her. As he got into his car he remembered the skunk comment, and inwardly winced. Like the two women who had just glared at his back as he went out the door, he figured Jaclyn was going to carry this grudge for a long time.

A thought occurred to him: Had Jaclyn told her mother that they’d spent the night together?

Naw.

For one thing, she wasn’t the kiss-and-tell type. For another, Madelyn hadn’t tried to gut him.


Chapter Fifteen

WHEN JACLYN HEARD MADELYN’S VOICE OUTSIDE HER door, with Peach and Diedra’s voices running over each other as they asked simultaneous questions, she paused for a moment to listen harder. Not hearing Eric’s much deeper voice, she huffed out a quick breath of relief and jerked her door open, though she took a quick look around to make sure he was gone before she asked, “What happened?”

“He asked questions about what I was doing yesterday afternoon, and took a lot of notes,” Madelyn replied. “I think he was making certain I didn’t kill Carrie, but there was no way. After we had muffins at Claire’s, I didn’t have time to go back and do the deed, then get to the wedding.”

“You had muffins at Claire’s?” Peach asked.

“Yesterday afternoon, after Carrie fired us,” Jaclyn said.

“Well,” Diedra humphed. “Number one: you could have bought enough muffins for us to have today. I’m just saying. Number two: more than likely, he was verifying that you were where you said you were. Madelyn is your alibi.”

“Maybe,” Jaclyn said unhappily. She should have known he’d have to question Madelyn. If she’d thought of it beforehand she might have been better prepared for the shock. Instead, sudden rage had roared through her like a wildfire, and she was left feeling shaky in the aftermath.

“I don’t know,” Madelyn added. “He asked what I did from three o’clock yesterday afternoon until I got to the wedding, so—” She lifted her shoulder in a “who knows” gesture. “Did anyone get a newspaper this morning? The news on television didn’t give many details. Maybe the newspaper will tell us what time they think the murder happened.”

No one had. “I’ll go get one,” said Diedra. She grabbed her bag and car keys, and hurried out the door.

“I need more coffee,” Peach said. “And another brownie.” She turned and headed toward the kitchen area.

“Why?” Madelyn demanded as she followed. “You weren’t questioned.”

Thinking she needed to soothe her jangled nerves with chocolate more than she needed to worry about the empty calories, Jaclyn decided to join them. She was in time to hear Peach say, “I’m consoling myself because I wasn’t questioned.”

“What?”

“Lord have mercy, Madelyn, are you dead from the waist down?” As Jaclyn came through the door, Peach shot her a guilty look. “Sorry, honey. But you do know your mother has a love life—”

“Peach!” Madelyn said in a threatening tone.

“Actually, I do.” Jaclyn poured herself some coffee and got another brownie from the tray.

“See, you don’t have to act as if you’re the Mother Superior in a convent.” Peach gave Madelyn an “I told you so” look and took a bite of her brownie. “As I was saying, that man just oozed testosterone. The chemical reaction almost made me go into heat—and I was mad at him, so just imagine what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been!”

Jaclyn almost choked on a sip of coffee.

“I’m a good twenty years older than the detective, and so are you, Peach Reynolds. I didn’t notice his testosterone and you shouldn’t have, either.”

“Older women can go after younger men now. Personally, I’ve never thought there was anything wrong with it. Old codgers go after young airheads all the time, so why can’t women of our age have a little fun every now and then? It actually makes sense, because we don’t have to worry about getting pregnant. Celibacy should be for the young and stupid, not the mature and wise.”

Run or stand her ground? Spill the beans about knowing Eric—though not about sleeping with him—or keep quiet? Jaclyn had no idea what to do, but she did know she didn’t want to listen to her mother and a woman who was like an aunt to her talk about Eric’s testosterone level. “Uh …” she began, not knowing exactly what she was going to say, but it didn’t matter; she might as well not have made a sound, for all the attention they paid her.

Madelyn planted her hands on her hips. “I have news for you. By the time you’re mature and wise, it’s too late to be celibate. Talk about shutting the barn door after the horse is already out!”

“That’s the whole point! Wise and mature women shouldn’t be celibate; we should go for the gusto, which in this case is younger men.”

“That man is investigating my daughter for murder! Are you out of your mind? I don’t care if he’s the gusto, or the goulash, or the crème brûlée—I didn’t like him!”

“There is that,” Peach agreed after a moment. “I didn’t like him, either, on a personal basis. But on an impersonal basis, tall, dark, and rugged does it for me every time.”

Jaclyn put the brownie down on a paper towel, thinking that she’d choke if she tried to eat it just now. She didn’t know who would be more embarrassed, herself or Madelyn and Peach, if she told them now that she’d had a … a thing with Eric. That was all it was—just a thing—because one night did not a relationship make. But even a thing was too much to talk about in light of everything they’d just said. Not that it mattered, because the “thing” was over and nothing else was going to happen between them, assuming he didn’t end up arresting her for Carrie’s murder on circumstantial evidence alone.

She couldn’t say anything now, because that would be making too big a deal over it, when it wasn’t. Being investigated for murder, on the other hand, was definitely a big deal. She should forget the thing with Eric and deal with the most important issue, though she had no idea how she could be proactive in this situation.

“I can’t do anything except work,” she said aloud, drawing her mother’s and Peach’s attention from their argument.

Both of them looked at her. “What?”

“This whole situation. It’s out of my control. I don’t like it, but I have to step back and concentrate on what is in my control, which is work. But … oh, damn, when he was here I could have asked him about getting my briefcase, and instead I blew up at him and then hid in my office like a scared little kid!” She smacked herself on the forehead.

“I thought you and Diedra had already re-created the file,” Peach said.

“For the Bulldog rehearsal and wedding, yes, because that was the most immediate, but now we’ll have to do the others, too.”