Page 62 of Dead Men Tell No Shells

Then, because I couldn't resist, I added:

Mostly.

His reply was a single word.

Max.

I laughed aloud, and Sylvester, who had been dozing in the patch of sunlight beside the table, lifted his head in mild disapproval. I apologized to him, finished my coffee, and gathered my notes. Whatever happened with Josiah, the investigation was moving forward, and I intended to keep my promise to help without putting myself in danger. It was a sensible plan. I hoped I could manage to stick to it.

The sheriff's office was busier when I arrived than it had been the previous evening. A deputy was speaking on the phone near the front desk, and someone in the back office was trying to coax a printer into working. Josiah looked up as I entered, and the moment our eyes met, I was reminded of the jacket draped over my shoulders and the quiet care with which he'd let me sleep. I pushed the memory aside before it could show on my face.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, gesturing toward the chair beside his desk. “You said you had something to tell me.”

I sat down and explained what Ricky had heard, making it clear that neither he nor Tammy had firsthand knowledge of the investigation. Josiah listened carefully, asking a couple of questions about where the rumor had originated before making a note in his file.

“It's not much to go on,” he said, “but it gives me a reason to check whether we've missed anything in the timeline. Harvey's ex-wife has already spoken to us, but there are a few details we still need to establish.”

“Do you think she had something to do with his death?”

“I think she knew him well enough that we need to understand their relationship, and I think we have to follow up on anything that might be relevant. That isn't the same as deciding she's guilty.” He looked at me pointedly. “You understand the difference?”

“Yes, Sheriff.”

“I'm glad to hear it.”

I wanted to tease him about his habit of treating me like a particularly troublesome witness, but his expression stopped me. He was tired, and the strain of the investigation showed in the set of his shoulders and the faint shadows beneath his eyes. I wondered how much sleep he'd managed after I'd left the office. The thought that he might have worked late because he was worried about the case - and about me - made me feel both grateful and guilty. I'd promised to be careful, yet here I was, following every new lead with the enthusiasm of someone who'd never heard of a sensible stopping point.

“Have you found anything else in the records?” I asked.

“Not enough to draw conclusions. We’re checking the dates and trying to establish who was involved in the transactions, but a lot of the paperwork is old, and some of the companies no longer exist. Your notes helped us narrow things down.” He paused, then added, “That message you saw on Harvey’s phone may be connected, but we can't assume it is. We need to find out what happened twenty years ago before we can say what someone meant by leaving it buried.”

“I understand.”

“And I want you to keep the message to yourself. If we decide to question anyone about it, I don't want the wording getting back to them before we're ready.”

“I haven't told Ricky or Tammy. I won't.”

His gaze lingered on me, and for a moment I wondered whether he was checking that I meant it or simply taking the opportunity to look at me. I couldn't tell, and I wasn't going to ask. There were enough uncertainties in my life without adding another one that could break my heart.

A knock sounded on the open office door before I could say anything else. One of the deputies stepped inside and told Josiah that Harvey’s ex-wife had arrived. She was waiting in the interview room and had agreed to answer a few more questions.

Josiah rose, gathering his notebook. “I need to speak with her. You should stay here.”

“I wasn't planning to follow you into the interview room.”

“No, but you were thinking about it.”

“I was wondering whether I could be useful.”

“You've been useful. Now let me do my job.”

There was no sharpness in his voice, only the firm concern that had become increasingly familiar over the past day. I nodded, though I couldn't help feeling frustrated as he left. I wanted answers as much as he did, and sitting in the office while someone else might be explaining a crucial piece of Harvey's life wasn't easy. Still, I'd agreed to let the police investigate, and I intended to keep my word. I returned to my property notes, although the dates and company names blurred together as my thoughts wandered to the woman in the interview room.

Harvey's ex-wife had every reason to be upset. Losing someone, even someone you'd divorced, wasn't necessarily simple, especially when the death was violent, and the whole town was talking about it. But if the police had asked her to return, they must have had a reason beyond a rumor that she'd been emotional when someone mentioned the investigation.

I was halfway through rereading my notes when Josiah returned. He didn't look satisfied, but neither did he look as though he'd just uncovered a confession. He closed the door behind him and sat down, resting his forearms on the desk.

“We had reason to take a closer look at her,” he said. “She and Harvey had been in contact recently, and she didn't mention that during her first conversation with us. We also have a witness who saw them arguing a few days before the festival. Taken together, those details made it necessary to ask some more questions.”