Cash seemed not amused at the idea of her enjoying an evening together with Michael, but he ignored the point, turning to his deputies. “Go see to that body. The photographer should be here soon.” He snapped back to them. “Did you touch or disturb anything?”
There it was.
Michael said nothing.
Vicky searched her purse for a hanky.
“You did touch something,” Cash exclaimed. “Great, you could have disturbed all possible leads to the killer. What on earth did you do that for?”
“I picked up a hundred-dollar bill that was lying on the floor beside him. I put it there.” Michael pointed at the sink where the bill rested between a blue thermos and a stack of dirty washrags. “It was a natural thing to do. I didn’t think about it at the time.”
Cash fumed. “You should never ever disturb a thing until the police are there. Even a kid knows that. And you’re a trained reporter who has handled crime before.”
To distract him, Vicky said quickly, “There was a note on Mortimer’s desk with three phone numbers on it. We only looked at it; we didn’t touch it. It could be significant. Maybe Mortimer managed to call the first person on it before he was killed? That could help to fix the time of his death.”
Michael pointed Cash to where the note lay. Cash put on thin plastic gloves and put the note in a see-through evidence bag, marking it. As he glanced down at the note, Vicky saw shock passing through him. Like he recognized one of the phone numbers.
Diane’s? Did he also realize that there could be a connection between this murder, the fire in the barn the other night and the old disappearance case?
Cash snapped his head up, his eyes hard. “I’m taking both of you in for questioning. Separately. To see if your stories check out. And if they don’t, I’m holding you overnight.”
Vicky’s jaw sagged at the prospect of spending the night in jail, but Michael shrugged as if to say, Whatever. He probably felt so cheated by Mortimer’s death and the information that had possibly eluded him forever that he didn’t care about anything else.
But Vicky did care. She didn’t want to lie to Cash. He was the sheriff. She had to tell him the truth, or risk big trouble later on.
On the other hand Michael was her friend. And she’d do anything to keep him out of trouble with the law. He had to stay free and help them find out who had killed Mortimer Gill.
And possibly also Celine.
Upon arrival at the police station Vicky felt pretty positive about her mission. Cash was nice enough, bringing her coffee and talking to her in a friendly tone. She actually began to believe she could convince him that Mortimer’s death might have something to do with the old disappearance case and he had to give it top priority—also for Diane’s sake. She’d rather sort this out with police cooperation than without.
But she soon found out Cash only wanted her to incriminate Michael, blame him for the whole thing. Every question he asked was meant to trick her into stating Michael had suggested they had to go to Mortimer to have a talk, that Michael had gone into the house first, without her, and he could actually have killed Mortimer while she was still outside.
“The body was already getting cold, Michael said,” she protested. “Mortimer died before we arrived!”
“That’s what he says, yeah.” Cash waved a dismissive hand. “But he is no expert. I only trust the medical examiner’s verdict.”
“What possible reason could Michael have for killing Mortimer Gill?”
Cash exhaled. “There were rumors Diane was being threatened by someone who wanted her to leave town again. I also got a call informing me a dark figure was watching Diane as she exercised on the beach at night or in the morning. The caller said it was a stalker. I have established that stalker could be Michael Danning.”
Vicky’s throat was tight. If Cash outright asked her if Michael had been watching Diane, she could not deny that. She had seen it herself the other night. But Michael had only meant well. He had wanted to protect Diane, not harm her. “I don’t understand. Why would that suspicion make him a suspect in Mortimer Gill’s murder?”
Cash rearranged the notes in front of him. “Earlier Mortimer Gill was accused of having written the poison pen letters slandering his ex-wife Gwenda’s beauty parlor. When I got the call about the stalker, I wondered if it was Mortimer calling me to slander people again. But if Michael Danning was indeed stalking Diane and he knew someone was on to him, even reporting him to the police…”
Cash clicked his tongue. “That could be a great motive for murder. Especially as you could ask yourself why Michael is so interested in Diane. Just because she is the sister of his missing fiancée, or also because she looks exactly like Celine? The resemblance is eerie. I have heard several people talk about it.”
He held her gaze. “I know it doesn’t sound pretty, Vicky, but his interest in her could be explained as the obsession of a guilty mind. Back then Michael was the main suspect in the disappearance case. If he killed Celine, Diane’s return here might have thrown him off balance. When he felt people were getting too close to the truth, he killed again to keep it hidden.”
Vicky insisted that was absurd. But she wasn’t able to deny Michael had touched things at a crime scene and possible leads could have been disturbed. She couldn’t even state he had done it inadvertently. She had warned him against searching the place and he had just ignored her.
Admitting that to Cash made her feel bad and disloyal. She tried hard to explain Mortimer Gill was the real culprit, because he always managed to get people worked up over him. “His remarks about Gwenda last night were rather rude. Calling her show dog an ugly mutt. Saying she needed another poor sucker to pay for her. And I dealt with Mortimer only for one day in the store for my fireplace and then I had already had my fill of his smug remarks and the freedom he took with my time. He can be so self-centered you just want to—”
“Kill him, huh?” Cash concluded dryly.
Vicky pursed her lips and leaned back in the chair. “I don’t like it when you twist my words. And when is this finally over? It’s getting later and later. I told you all I know; I have nothing to add. When are you going to let me go?”
“Maybe never, huh?” Cash fumed. “I can keep you, indefinitely, if you refuse to cooperate. Just think about that for a few minutes.”
She tilted her head and held his gaze. Cash looked back at her, trying to maintain a stern face. First he began to frown, then to blink, and finally he looked away. “Aw, Vicky…” His voice was weary. “What do you expect me to do?”
She clenched her hands together, her nails digging into her palms. “On the night of the fire at Perkins’ barn, you were supposedly at a bar fight. Were you really?”
Cash looked up at her, his eyes wide with alarm. He seemed to want to say something, then bit it back. He checked his watch ostentatiously. “I suppose it’s been a long night already. And your mother is waiting for you at the desk.”
“What? My mom is here and you never even told me?” Vicky got up. “I have to go see her.” Her blood pounded with anger that her old mother had been forced to come out to a police station in the dead of night, just because Cash had kept her so long, for no real reason.
And he was lying about something.
That didn’t just make her angry, but also scared. What was going on in their town?
Forcing conviction into her voice, she said, “I’m going home now. If you need me again, just give me a call.