Page 36 of Game of Gravestones (A Jane Ladling Mystery 3)

“He won’t see you, Miss Ladling,” Ms. Butterfield replied, as professional as could be. “In fact, I’m supposed to inform you that you are not to contact him again. Ever.”

“But I have questions,” she said with a pout. “Questions he should want to answer, by the way. If he didn’t kill Tony Miller, I can help him clear his name. For free! Other people have offered me big bucks to do it.” Kind of big bucks. In the same way a dollar was bigger than a dime. Whatever!

“He’s not interested. If you enter the premises, I’m under strict orders to alert security. Be assured, I always obey orders.” There was a crackling pause. Then a whispered, “But he’ll be leaving the building at a quarter to eleven for a lunchtime appointment. If you’re in the parking lot…”

“Oh, thank you, Ms. Butterfield! I owe you a dozen more cupcakes.”

“Yes. Well. See that you pay up.”

Jane was grinning as they disconnected. One kind deed had reaped a priceless reward! Talk about delicious fruit!

Hoping to hunt down Beau, she refocused on her laptop and opened the video feed streaming from the cameras positioned around the Garden. She planned to ask if they could trade vehicles for the day. Just in case Hagger had a standing order to prevent hearses from entering his parking lot. Except it wasn’t Beau on patrol, but Holden.

The handsome vet was in the process of stalking a visitor. Who happened to be a ninety-four-year-old widower who’d come by the Garden every October for the past thirteen years to speak with his deceased wife. She lived in plot 238.

Not exactly a danger to the cemetery or Jane herself, but Holden definitely got an A for effort. The guys at Peach State Security took their job seriously.

There’d been no vehicle swap. One, she didn’t know Holden well enough to trade cars. And two, she’d already worked up another plan. Park across the street and walk to Mr. Hagger’s building. And that’s exactly what she did.

Wind blustered, and the sky darkened with a coming storm. Still, she waited at the curb next to the lawyer’s sleek black Mercedes. The second she detected his thumping footsteps, she popped up and blocked his path to the driver-side door.

Eyes narrowing, he came to an abrupt halt. “I have nothing to say to you, Miss Ladling.”

With a leather briefcase in hand—a possible club—he appeared more intimidating than before. Not that she was intimidated by him or anyone. She was dating Conrad Ryan, for goodness’ sake, despite the certainty of the Ladling curse. Had anyone ever done anything braver?

“Answer a single question for me,” she said, “and I’ll go. You’ll never, ever have to see me again…until the next time you see me.” A scowl contorted his features, and she hurried on. “Why did you visit Reggie Belfry at the hospital the day of his injury?”

Hagger ran his tongue over his teeth. “That’s privileged information.”

“That’s not an answer.” Or was it? “Was he already your client? Or perhaps heisyour client even now?”Mental note: Ask Conrad.“Maybe he’s your partner in crime. Did you pay him to murder Tony?”

“And that’s a second, third and fourth question.” With menace in every step, Hagger strode forward once again, closing in on her. Where had the unfazed barrister gone?“Your snooping is gonna get you into trouble. You keep at it, and you may not like what you find. Or who finds you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a truth.”

When Jane remained in place, refusing to flee, he ran his tongue over his teeth. Okay then. Point made. She offered him a sunny smile. “You have a temper, Mr. Hagger. The murderer did too, considering he beat Tony with a bag of rocks. I guess we’ll be seeing each other again, after all.” With a little finger wave, she turned, and all but skipped toward her hearse.

“Come near me again,” he called, “and I’ll file a restraining order against you.”

“That only makes you seem guiltier,” she called back, without glancing over her shoulder.

Rather than drive home, she opted to take a stroll through town and clear her head before the storm broke. Maybe she’d spy Beau again, since he’d sent Holden to the Garden in his place. This time, she’d do better about remaining in the shadows. Except, it wasn’t Beau she found, but Tiffany Hotchkins and Abigail Waynes-Kirkland. The duo exited Pay Dirt Pawn, laughing.

The wealthy widow and elegant brunette spotted Jane, glowered, and moved into her path. Okay, so, maybe she might be reapingthisawful reward for ambushing Hagger.

“Hello, ladies,” she offered politely. “Dig up any graves lately?”

A flush darkened Abigail’s cheeks. “How are Fiona and Beau? Arrested for murder yet?”

Tiffany smirked at Jane. “Rumor is,you’rethe one who did the deed. All to make some extra cash.”

Oh! That danged Ashley Katz!She’s for sure my next stop. “I have another theory. You claim you were on vacation the night of my party, yes?” Jane whipped outTruth Be Toldand a pen. “What if you two secretly remained in town to kill Tony, knowing I’d be desperate to exonerate my accused friends? An act of cold-blooded revenge.” On that note, these ladies could have hired Ashley Katz to cast blame on Jane. In fact, that might be the reason they’d visited a pawn shop—they needed more money to meet the reporter’s increasing demands. “Where did you say you went? Do you happen to have receipts?”

In unison, the pair paled. They shared a panicked look. Abigail muttered, “We didn’t do it!”

“You’re not pinning this on us,” Tiffany barked.

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