The Good Neighbor. Sharon Mignerey

even make the connection until a few days later. Lou Gessner, the woman who owns the pawnshop, is in my Bible-study group. I asked her if she ever had any bangle bracelets, and she said one had just come into her shop a few days earlier. Then, the following Saturday morning, I saw him coming out of the pawnshop holding his money.”

      “Are you accusing this woman of accepting stolen goods?”

      “Of course not,” she said in defense of her friend, who was one of the most honest, forthright people she knew. “How is she supposed to know until she hears back from the police after she submits her reports?”

      “Sounds like you know a lot about it.”

      “That’s because I asked her,” Megan said evenly, despite the accusation that once more laced Detective Prescott’s voice.

      “And that morning—what day was that?”

      “Last Saturday.”

      “And you confronted him?”

      “I did.” Megan felt her throat close as she remembered those moments, now wishing they had never happened. “We got into it, and to be honest, I don’t remember exactly what I said to him, but I do remember telling him that he was a thief and he didn’t deserve to be Helen’s grandson…and that she would be better off without him. Mr. Johansen saw us, and I’m sure he’ll tell you pretty much the same thing if you ask him.”

      “You do realize what you’re telling me, don’t you?”

      Megan opened her mouth to speak, then stopped when the detective held up his hand.

      “If Johansen corroborates your story and says that you threatened Robby Russell…” His eyes bore into hers, and something there softened imperceptibly. “You need a lawyer.”

      She nodded her head. “Is this the part where you tell me that I’m a suspect?”

      “Yeah.” His voice turned gravelly. “At the moment, you’re my only suspect.”