Page 15 of The Aura Answer
“I stopped at the morgue to see whetherArtie’sspirit energy stayed with his corpse.” She tested the new nickname and wrinkled her nose in distaste. “It didn’t. I can hope he gave up and passed on, but life is never that simple. Do you know when the sheriff will start letting people back into the courthouse?”
“He ought to be done today unless he finds something major, which I doubt. I was there. I saw what went down. Without cameras filming who came and went, upstairs and down...”
Evie shook her loose curls. “Reuben checked. Cameras cover first floor doors and windows, so they can nail a lot of the rioters. Upstairs, not so much. The judges like having cameras on their office doors for security reasons, so if they give the sheriff permission, he’ll have footage of Larraine and everyone entering their chambers. News cameras were focused on Block and Larraine, not the ceiling or the crowd. That’s about it.”
“What we need to see is if anyone went into that janitorial closet with attic access. Without that...” Jax shrugged, glad he wasn’t a prosecutor.
“Roark says they’ve run fingerprints on everything. They have lots of smudges and no matches. Reuben and I knew better than to touch anything, except the fire extinguisher. I gave Troy a full accounting of my day, including witnesses, but it was amob out there. I could easily have slipped inside the courthouse and out at any time.” She frowned. “And so could anyone knowing about the basement bomb shelter. I’ll hope that’s still locked.”
Jax whistled. “Bomb shelter? Swell. So the entire town could have been in that attic. I’m guessing you’re not the only one who knew about the stairs and shelter.” Jax rubbed her thigh. The grim subject kept their sensual heat level muted.
“So everyone in town had motive, opportunity, and means... ” she said with a grimace. “Although I suppose we don’t all have guns. Most of the mob was from out of town and probably armed, but they were the ones who wanted him back as mayor. It’s all too weird. If it weren’t for the reward, I’d concentrate on what happened to poor Bertie. No one seems to care that we lost a promising talent.”
She slid off the desk and scratched a golden retriever’s head. “For Bertie, I’ll go in.”
“Wait for the autopsy,” he suggested. “From all reports, it was an overdose.”
She didn’t look happy. Evie was generally a bouncy, upbeat sort of person. Jax hoped her newsolutionsbusiness didn’t take that away.
“Gracie has a whole series of sketches Bertie did when he was off the drugs. You should take a look. He was talented. I hate that he ended up this way.” A little light bulb practically lit over her head and she smiled again. “Maybe he’s done some recent sketches that would show who his friends were. I’ll check around.”
In a rush of herbal scent mixed with dog stink, she was off and gone again.
Damn, but he loved that woman. Buoyed by her effervescent spirit, Jax began making calls.
Getting his hands on Arthur Block’s financial records could turn the town upside down. He savored the possibilities with anticipation.
Gracie climbedout of Pris’s old catering truck before Nick could come around and open the door for her. She studied the sagging structure with the big red ANTIQUE BARN sign. Afterthought’s inhabitants had never leaned toward the original.It’s an historic buildingcovered lack of repairs or updates, like fixing a deteriorating roof.
She thought Mrs. Satterwhite, one of Evie’s neighbors, owned this place on the outskirts of town, past the school and on the two-lane toward Charleston. The owner must be almost ninety by now.
Nick was already sniffing around the rusty farm equipment outside. She didn’t think even his creative marketing mind could find a use for that junk. She aimed for the door adorned with a rusted Esso Oil Company sign.
“World of difference,” Nick murmured as he followed her in. “This is fascinating.”
“This is junk,” she muttered back, scanning the cluttered interior for any sign of a desk or employee.
“Let’s scout first,” he suggested. “If they don’t have anything, we can go into the city.”
So not going into the city with a player... Gracie headed straight for the walls where taller furniture was buried. “How about this?” She pointed at a pair of cheap pine bookcases. “We can probably buy two for the price of one hall tree.”
“You are not putting that rubbish in your beautiful library. Look, the back is cardboard and stapled on.” He pulled one out to show her.
He glared at her through dark eyes surrounded by thick short lashes that would make a movie star groan in envy. He even had a cleft in his determined chin. It was at eye level. She couldn’t miss it.
Gracie marched away, scouting for furniture without cardboard backs. Her whole house was made of cardboard. What did she know?
Apparently she did know a few things. She spotted an airy set of wood shelving with legs that would elevate the dark library to a lighter, less oppressive mood. Buried behind bed frames and old paintings, the shelves had to be dug out to verify they weren’t half propped up by old books.
“Mid-century modern.” Nick sounded more thoughtful than chirpy at her discovery. “I hadn’t considered that. I’d have thought more Victorian ornate or art nouveau, but...” He unburied one of the sections and pulled it back from the wall to examine it.
Didn’t look like cardboard to her. And he wasn’t totally dissing her selection. Yet.
“May I help you?” A tall, beefy man in a red-checked shirt wound his way through the maze toward them. Brown-haired and round-faced, he looked nothing like his slender, artistic younger brother, but she recognized him. Now she had to practice her detective routine.
“Samuel, good to see you.” Gracie smiled her schoolteacher smile. His kids had been in her classes. “How are you doing?”
“Miz Gracie.” His face broke into a big grin. “How ya keepin’? What brings you in here? Your sister ready to unload all that junk in your aunt’s house?”
