Page 43 of Crossing Lines

He bent down to pet her. “You stay away from that corner. Could be dangerous.”

The word “corner” jogged his memory. Hadn’t Kevin mentioned something about a corner?

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Beryl Thorne appeared in the doorway of the trailer, a white hard hat on her head, her dark hair hanging in a ponytail in back. She wore jeans and a T-shirt and had large, scuffed tan work boots on her feet. Her smile seemed genuine, if not a bit confused.

“Morning.” Sam glanced over at the hotel. “The place is coming along. I guess you’ve been busy.”

Beryl came down the steps to him. Lucy, who normally greeted everyone, stayed rooted at Sam’s side, her attention wavering from the conversation to the construction.

“I have a lot of money invested in this business, so I’m taking over and running it my way.” She glance at the site and smiled. “I have a few different ideas than Lucas.”

That was a good thing, at least. Sam hoped her ideas were more palatable than her husband’s. “Good.”

“You said you had a question in your message?” Beryl said.

“Right. Your uncle is really making a case to get your husband out of jail. I take it you aren’t keen on that.”

Beryl shook her head. “Not at all. What is my uncle doing? Is this about the shoes again?”

“He claims that he has evidence that will rule out the shoes. Those are our main physical evidence against Lucas.” If that were true, it would really put a damper on the case unless they could get someone to identify him and connect him to the victims, like Jo’s sister Bridget.

“I don’t know what he could be getting at about the shoes.” Beryl seemed disturbed, her eyes darting around the site. “I gave them straight to you from Lucas’s closet.”

“Could anyone else have been in your house and tampered with them?”

Beryl looked shocked. “Who would do that? Who would have even known about them being connected to the case?”

Sam shrugged. “Might not have been anyone who knew they could be evidence.” Except the killer. “Maybe it was just a coincidence. What about your brother? He and Lucas were close, and I’m sure he comes to your house.”

Beryl stiffened. “What about my brother?”

Sam smiled, trying to make it seem like just friendly conversation. He’d clearly struck a nerve at the mention of Robert, and he didn’t want her to clam up. “You said they were friends. That’s how you and Lucas met, right?”

She relaxed. “Yes. They’ve been friends for a long time. But I don’t think my brother would be in Lucas’s closet.”

“Do they golf together?”

“They did... but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Maybe nothing. Just thinking out loud. Is your brother feeling better? I hope he enjoyed the cream horns.”

“Huh? Oh right, I was buying some when we ran into each other at the Black Cat Café.” Beryl clutched her clipboard to her chest. “He did enjoy them, and he is getting better. Thanks for asking.”

“Better enough to get his own cream horns?”

“Why do you ask that? And no, he isn’t well enough for that. He’s staying at home for a few more weeks as far as I know.” Beryl shuffled on her feet as if the questions made her nervous. Even Lucy picked up on it as she riveted her attention on Beryl, a faint woof escaping her lips.

“I see. You mentioned something about a family fishing cabin, and I wondered if he might be well enough for recreation. There’s some big trout in that river. I fish it myself. Is the cabin near one of the good spots?”

“I’m not sure about the good spots. It’s just past the pumping station near the big bend. Robert and my dad and Uncle Charlie all loved to fish, but I don’t think Robert is quite well enough for that.” Beryl’s attention drifted to the men working on the hotel, and Sam followed her gaze, frowning when he recognized one of the men.

“Hey, is that Ricky Webster?”

Beryl turned to him. “Who?”

Sam pointed at the worker, who was turned slightly toward them. Today his dark hair was in a short ponytail and he had a hard hat and tool belt, but it was the same guy he and Jo had interviewed. “In the blue shirt. Ricky Webster.”

Beryl shrugged. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t say. Hank does all the hiring and oversees the workers.”

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