Chapter 20
“You couldn’t have opened with that?” Hope rose in Harper. Finally another suspect! She whipped out her phone, pushed record, and pushed it across the desk. “What did she say exactly? I need every detail.”
Kimmie grimaced. “Do you have to record our conversation? I don’t want to get fired.”
If anyone understood losing a job, Harper could. She was burning through her savings like a drunken college student at a strip bar. However, without evidence against Betty Anne she’d have nothing to show the police.
Mignon wouldn’t take her word. He wasn’t a fan.
“I’ll do my best to shield you.” Harper’s eyes pleaded for understanding. She could smell desperation pouring from her skin. It was all she could do not to drop to her knees and pray before the altar that was Gerald’s chair.
“Kimmie, this is my life we’re talking about. You saw how freaked out I was after a couple of hours in jail. I really need you. Please.”
The young woman cracked. “Okay. Betty Anne said, ‘If you don’t break up with that whore, then I’ll run you over with my station wagon until your innards come out your ears.’”
“Wow,” Alvin said. “That’s brutal. I didn’t know the mouse had violence in her.”
Alvin’s comment rang true. Betty Anne was as timid as a mouse. Finding out that she had a spine helped Harper and solidified the woman’s place in the suspect pool.
“It must have been about Sharla. Did she say anything else?” Harper asked eagerly.
Kimmie nodded. “There was something about taking all his money and running off to Cabo with a hunk half his age.”
Alvin chuckled. “I’d like to see that.”
Harper spun her head around. “Not helpful.”
The idea of Betty Anne peeling out of her granny dresses and putting on a bikini seemed absurd. Adding a hunk to the picture was not imaginable. The widow didn’t have it in her to break loose and be bad. Her idea of rebellion would be more along the lines of paying for her mustache wax without a coupon.
Yet, Betty Anne had stood up for herself. The kicked dog had kicked back. How had Gerald reacted once they were alone? Did the blowout lead to a crime of passion?
“This is good stuff.” Harper couldn’t wait to get the info to Noah. “I wonder what broke her. Gerald has been with Sharla for months now. Maybe he had someone new that Betty Anne saw as a threat to her marriage?”
“No telling. I didn’t hear the whole conversation,” Kimmie said. “However, she tore in here with a bee in her Amish-style bonnet, and lit into him. I’ve never seen her go past casual indifference or outright apathy when it came to her husband. Something really ticked her off.”
Harper turned to Alvin. “Finding out what riled her up may be the key to solving the murder.”
Alvin nodded. “Good luck getting her to talk. The Covingtons circle the wagons pretty tight against outsiders.”
* * * *
Alvin drove them back to Ann Arbor while Harper glared at the back of his shaggy head. “We need to rework this whole you Tarzan, you drive car thing,” she’d said as she’d climbed into the back seat. “I’m a strong woman, capable of taking care of myself.”
She squeezed hand sanitizer onto her hands in case any lingering Gerald cooties remained in his office.
Alvin grunt-grinned in reply. He’d gone back to communicating without words.
After handing over the keys and leaving her at the apartment, he mumbled something in man code about either going out to cave paint with his fellow knuckle-draggers, or he had an appointment with the dentist. Either way, she was happy to see him go. She needed a break.
The apartment was quiet when she went inside. She hadn’t seen Noah or Adam’s vehicles in the driveway next door, so she stripped to her panties and turned on the shower. Being in Gerald’s office had left her feeling icky. The sanitizer hadn’t lasted long enough.
She twisted her hair into a bun on top of her head and after dropping her panties, she showered for fifteen minutes, letting the hot spray relax her mind.
Humming as she dried off and reached for her robe on the back of the door, she felt better. She dug out and filled the tea pot and went into the pantry for the box of cookies she’d purchased earlier. Without the daily weigh-ins, why not indulge?
The pot whistled at almost the same time that she heard a noise at the back door. It had to be Noah, ready for an argument. Hopefully what she’d learned today would help soothe his temper.
For a second, she contemplated pretending she wasn’t home. Unfortunately, the rental was parked out front.
So she braced for a lecture and pulled the curtains back. No Noah. Another noise, like a bleating sheep, sounded.
“What the heck?” She slid open the glass doors and peered out. Munching on the petunias at the edge of the cement patio was Harriet the goat.
Oh, no.
“How in the hell did you get here?” She stepped outside. Harriet ignored her. The farm critter ripped up a patch of flowers and flung dirt far and wide.
“Stop that! Now!” Harper scolded. The goat went down and rolled onto her back. “Oh, come on!”
Goat legs flailed in the air.
“It’s curious how you didn’t lose the clump of flowers in your mouth, despite such a dramatic faint,” Harper taunted. Great, she was talking to a goat.
Noah stepped over the fence. He stopped when he spotted Harriet. “How did she get here? Did you steal her?”
“Of course I didn’t steal her.”
Harriet rolled back to her feet. She finished eating the flowers, and walked over to chew on the tie of Harper’s robe. A tug-of-of-war followed. Harper had an incentive to win. She was naked underneath.
“No. Bad goat.” Harriet wobbled and her eyes rolled back. “You go down again and I’m dropping you off at a goat chops processing factory!”
Noah leaned back on his heels. “Goat chops?”
“It was the first thing I could think of,” Harper explained with a shrug. To her surprise, Harriet stayed upright and let go of the tie. “See, she just needs a firm hand.”
Harriet trotted over to sniff the hostas.
“Again,” Noah said. “How did she get here?”
“She must have followed our scent across hill and dale,” she said, shrugging. “She seems to have formed a disturbing attachment to me.”
He looked skeptical. “Goats aren’t dogs. Do you really think she tracked you over fifteen miles from the farm?”
The goat munched a hosta leaf. “How do I know? Do I look like a Future Farmers of America member?”
He scanned his inquisitive eyes down her. His expression heated. “Do you have anything on under there?”
She pulled the edges of the robe together in a vise-like grip. “That’s none of your business, Slade.”
“I could investigate the issue for myself,” he offered. “If you’d let me chew on the bow.”
“Try, and get your man parts rearranged by my knee.”
His wicked laugh struck her hard. It sent warm fuzzies through her body.
Deep down, she kind of wanted him to give her a thorough examination with his hands, and other parts. Yet, she’d already gone down that road with him once before and knew their past was better left in her memories.
There was that saying, “An ex is an ex for a reason.” Whoever came up with that tidbit was probably not fighting an overwhelming attraction to his/her ex.
Good sense snapped back. “I’ll get dressed. We need to take Harriet back to the farm.”