Page 51 of Mile High Mystery

He opened a cabinet and took out a package of spaghetti. “Perfect.”

He leaned back against the counter and watched as she set water to boil and pulled out a cutting board. “You like to cook,” he said.

“Don’t sound so surprised. My guilty pleasure is watching cooking shows.”

“I don’t think I have a guilty pleasure.”

“No guilt, or no pleasure?”

Funny how one lift of her eyebrow could send heat curling through him. “No comment,” he said and turned away, before he risked finding out how much pleasure—and guilt—she could offer him.

Chapter Fifteen

“We tracked Todd Arniston down at the Cakewalk Café this morning,” Sheriff Walker told Shelby when she and the FBI artist met him at the sheriff’s department the next afternoon. “He agreed to come in and talk to us. He answered our questions willingly, and he appears to be exactly what he says he is—a writer working on a book about the Chalk brothers.”

“You should have called me in,” she said.

“I would have if I thought there was a need,” Walker said. “You’re welcome to listen to the recording of the interview and read the transcripts. Arniston’s story checked out. He doesn’t have a criminal record, not even a traffic violation.”

“He admits he was at the campground when Camille Gregory was murdered,” she said.

“So were a lot of other people.”

“Why didn’t you interview him when you talked to the other campers?”

“He says he left the campground before floodwaters cut off the road. No one else mentioned him to us, and he didn’t fill out a registration form for the campsite he occupied. But he doesn’t deny being there. He says he didn’t know Camille was there. No one else places him at or near her campsite.”

“What about the stuffed bear that was left at Zach’s townhouse?”

“We don’t know when it was left there,” Walker said. “It could have been any time between when Zach left for work that morning at eight until he returned home a little after nine at night. Arniston admits he can’t account for his whereabouts for the entire thirteen hours, but most people wouldn’t be able to. We didn’t recover any fingerprints from the scene. Unless someone says they saw him or his car near Zach’s townhouse, we don’t have any reason to think he was responsible.”

“He’s been following Zach around.”

“Because he wants to interview him,” Walker said.

“Except he never said that until yesterday.”

“I’ll admit that’s odd, but odd doesn’t equal guilty.”

“So you took everything he said at face value?” She couldn’t keep the accusation from her voice.

The sheriff remained as unreadable as ever. “We took his fingerprints and sent them to the state for analysis,” he said. “We’ll let you know if anything turns up.” He glanced toward the artist, who was setting up a laptop on a table in the interview room across the hall. “Has it occurred to you that Zach might have staged that bear in his townhouse? We only have his word that he lost his key.”

“Zach did not stage that bear or lie about losing his key.”

“People do that sort of thing in a bid for attention. How well do you really know him?”

I know him, she wanted to protest. She knew all of Camille’s stories about her brother—the quiet, thoughtful man who didn’t go out of his way to seek attention. But stories weren’t what counted with people like Sheriff Walker. “The FBI has a file on Zach Gregory that goes back more than four years,” she said. “There are no signs of any tendency to lie or seek attention.”

The sheriff glanced toward the FBI artist again. “He never told anyone about seeing someone outside the restaurant the night that judge was murdered.”

“Because he didn’t think it was important, and he’s not the type of man who likes to put himself forward.”

Adelaide moved down the hallway toward them. “Zach Gregory is here,” she said.

“I’ll bring him back,” Shelby said, and left before the sheriff could say anything else.

Zach stood at her approach. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

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