Page 73 of Her Dying Secret

Turner threw his palms up. “Slow down there, slugger.”

Noah took out his credentials as an offering even though she was too far away to see them. “Miss Velis, Denton PD. You remember my colleagues, right? We just came to talk.”

Lowering the bat to her side, she slowly walked toward them, the suspicion in her face dissipating as she drew closer. Eyeing Turner, she said, “I remember you, now. And you.” She offered Josie a smile. “Sorry. As you can see, I’m all alone out here and now this business with Seth…”

For a woman who claimed to know how to handle Seth Lee, she was quick to pick up a bat at the sound of people approaching.

Noah gave her one of his dazzling smiles. “We understand. You can never be too careful. May we come in?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” She waved them across the threshold, down the ramp, and into the store. As they followed her to the sales desk, she added, “Sit anywhere,” and laughed. There had to be dozens of different types of chairs in the place.

As if taking her invitation seriously, Turner drifted off to the nearest cluster of furniture, six couches all tucked up next to one another. Deirdre moved behind the sales desk, which formed a square with a small opening on the side nearest the hall. She set the bat down on the countertop. Josie and Noah took up position on the other side of it.

“Have you caught him?” Deirdre asked. “They said you were still looking for him on the radio but since you came all the way out here, I thought maybe you had news.”

“I’m afraid not,” said Noah. “But we did locate your truck. We had to impound it…”

While Noah talked to her about the impound process, including when and how she could get her property back, Josie noticed that Deirdre’s gaze was locked on Turner, following his every movement. He meandered further away from them, running a finger over the surface of a dining room table.

Josie surveyed the clutter behind the desk. It was what you’d expect to find behind the desk of a furniture store that specialized in antiques, minus some modern technology like a computer. Piles of receipts. A cordless phone in its base. A ledger book. Several hardback books about pricing and repairing furniture. Notepads. Pens. A bowl with a set of keys inside it. A coffee mug. Candy bar wrappers. A bottle of WD-40. Several different woodworking tools that Josie couldn’t identify by name.

“I can get by with one truck for now,” Deirdre said, eyes still on Turner. “Do you have any leads? Any idea where Seth has gone now that he’s on foot?”

Noah frowned. “We were hoping to get some insight from you. Other than Seth’s brother, you’ve known him the longest.”

Josie’s gaze snagged on something on the other side of the desk. It was the whisper of an instinct that told her it was important, but she couldn’t say why.

Deirdre’s eyes flared with annoyance as Turner abandoned the dining room table and moved toward a small grouping of desks. “I already told these other detectives that I have no idea where Seth could be. If I knew, I would have already told you.”

“Hey, Quinn, look at these.” Startled by the use of her actual name, Josie looked over to see Turner trying to fit his long frame into a child’s school desk. The seat and the desktop were pine. Wrought iron piping connected them at the base. Somehow, Turner managed to squeeze into it. “This is what you call rustic. Hey, Deirdre. What is this from? The fifties?”

Noah hid it well but Josie could tell that he was more than annoyed with Turner’s antics.

With a stiff smile, Deirdre answered, “The thirties.”

Turner lifted the desk’s flip-top and peered into the storage compartment.

Deirdre started for the opening that led from behind the counter to the show floor. “Would you mind not touching things?”

But Turner was already on his feet, wandering toward a large armoire an aisle over. Deirdre slowly returned to her spot behind the sales counter, rolling the bat back and forth nervously. “As I was saying, I can’t help you find Seth. Yes, I’ve known him a long time but we’re no longer close.”

Changing tack, Noah said, “You also have a Chevrolet Cavalier registered to you personally. Where is that?”

“In the shop.”

“What shop?” Turner called.

Momentarily caught off-guard, Deirdre looked back and forth between Noah and Turner. “I have a friend who owns a shop in the city.”

Josie eyed the items on the countertop again. “What’s the name of the shop?”

Deirdre’s fingers trembled slightly as she rolled the bat again. “Oh my, I don’t remember the name of it. Isn’t that silly? This is what happens when you get older. I just think of it as my friend’s shop. It’s the one on Aymar Avenue. You know, near Campbell Street?”

“Oh yeah,” Noah said easily. “I think I know the one.”

There was no auto repair shop anywhere on Aymar Avenue. Or Campbell Street. Deirdre was lying.

Josie said, “Do you have other employees or subcontractors besides Seth?”

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