8 Sandpiper Way (Cedar Cove #8)

8 Sandpiper Way (Cedar Cove #8) Page 49

“Let’s go,” he whispered, inhaling a deep, fortifying breath.

Neither of them spoke on the drive downtown. It seemed that everything had already been said. They were about to confront whatever needed to be confronted. Together.

Fifteen minutes later, Dave and Emily walked hand in hand into the sheriff’s office. Phones rang, uniformed men and women scurried about, and there was an atmosphere that was both controlled and frenetic.

Dave introduced himself to the receptionist, who apparently recognized him.

“I’ll tell Sheriff Davis you’re here.”

“Thank you,” Emily said.

His wife’s hand tightened around Dave’s. “Geoff Duncan’s here, too,” she whispered.

They both knew why. He was there to explain that the letter Emily had asked to see wasn’t in the file the way Dave had claimed it would be.

“He didn’t show up for either of the counseling sessions I scheduled,” Dave whispered back. The second cancellation had been a blessing in disguise. The stable for the live Nativity had to be rebuilt after the donkey had kicked the side wall and the entire structure collapsed.

Dave and several volunteers had spent a couple of hours repairing it. Later that afternoon, he’d been on the phone for a solid hour seeking a replacement donkey—one with a gentler nature. He couldn’t have made the counseling session even if Geoff and his fiancée had shown up.

Allan Harris arrived, looking harried and impatient. He frowned at Dave, then moved across the waiting area to his legal assistant. “Do you know what this is about?” he demanded.

Geoff seemed to be ignoring them and under the circumstances Dave couldn’t complain.

“You were called here, too?” Emily asked.

Allan set his briefcase down and methodically removed his leather gloves, one finger at a time. “Yes. I’ve got appointments I’ve had to reschedule. And without Geoff to answer the phone, I had to close the office.”

Dave was about to mention that this wasn’t exactly convenient for him, either. He chose to keep the comment to himself and felt certain God would reward him.

Just as Allan seemed on the verge of saying something else, Sheriff Davis came out of his office. Roy McAfee was with him. The private detective’s eyes went directly to Dave and Emily. He nodded once in recognition. Dave tried to read his look and couldn’t.

“I’d like Allan, Dave, Emily and Geoff to step into my office,” the sheriff said.

Chairs had been set up in advance, and they all took their places. Allan carefully laid his long tailored coat over his knees.

“This is a bit unconventional,” the attorney muttered.

“Yes, I suspect it is,” Sheriff Davis agreed. “However, I think my reasons will become quite clear.” He glanced around the room. “Dave, would you mind if I asked you a few questions in front of the others?”

Dave turned to Roy, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod. “I don’t have anything to hide.”

“Good.” Sheriff Davis claimed his own seat. The only one left standing was Roy McAfee.

“Dave, you were a friend of Martha Evans, am I correct?”

He answered forthrightly. “Martha was part of our church family.”

“I understand,” the sheriff murmured.

The attorney looked pointedly at his watch as if to say he didn’t have time for this. Geoff Duncan, in the chair farthest from Dave and Emily, also seemed eager to get this over with. Dave felt the same way, but for his family’s sake—and his own—he needed this settled.

“In the last days of her life you stopped by as often as two and three times a week.”

“You have to realize that Martha was well into her eighties, but her mind was as sharp as the proverbial tack. Her body had started to fail but she wanted to stay in her home, which is why her family arranged for the visiting nurse.”

Sheriff Davis inclined his head. “You say she gave you the gold watch.”

“Yes. She’d written a letter to that effect. I saw it myself. She told me her attorney would be coming by later in the day and that she’d hand it to him.”

The sheriff turned to Allan Harris. “Did you make a habit of visiting Martha Evans’s home?” he asked.

Allan met the sheriff’s gaze squarely. “She lived close to the courthouse and it certainly wasn’t a problem. I’d known Martha for years. She was a good friend of my mother’s. I was happy to do her a small favor.”

“Did you ever send your legal assistant to her home instead?”

“Just once,” Geoff inserted. “He asked me to drop some papers off on my way home from work one afternoon.”

“Is that true?” The sheriff looked searchingly at the attorney.

Allan Harris concurred. “That’s true. It was just the one time.”

“Do you remember exactly when that was?”

Allan Harris reached for his briefcase. “I can tell you in a moment. It was the same day as the deposition for…” He let the rest fade as he checked the calendar on his BlackBerry. “I have it here. That would be September sixth.”

“The sixth,” Sheriff Davis repeated and wrote down the date. Then he glanced at Dave. “Do you recall when you discovered Martha’s body?” he asked.

It wasn’t something Dave was likely to forget. “Two days later,” he said.

“The eighth.” The sheriff nodded. “And she gave you the watch on which day?”

“The sixth.”

“In other words, it was two days before her death. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And she had the letter at that time?”

“Yes.”

“The same day Mr. Harris sent his assistant to Martha’s home.”

Geoff Duncan was on his feet. “Now, listen, if you’re suggesting I had anything to do with this—”

“As a matter of fact I’m more than suggesting,” Sheriff Davis said without missing a beat. “I’ve subpoenaed your bank statement.” He opened a file and handed the sheet to Geoff Duncan. “I also have the statement of a Seattle pawnshop owner who’s willing to testify that you pawned several diamond rings.”

The room crackled with electrifying silence.

“Geoff Duncan?” Emily whispered, her eyes wide as she looked at Dave.

He squeezed her hand. He would never have suspected the younger man. It hadn’t so much as occurred to him.

Geoff fell back into his chair and stared into the distance with a dazed expression. “I…I needed the money.”

Dave briefly closed his eyes and recalled the conversation with Geoff a few weeks ago when he’d proudly told him about his fiancée. Lori Bellamy was from one of the most prominent families in the area, and apparently Geoff felt obliged to keep her in the style to which she was accustomed—even though he couldn’t afford to do it.

“Geoff.” Allan Harris said the other man’s name in a hushed voice. He must’ve been feeling shock, incredulity and sadness, Dave thought. “Why?”

Geoff refused to answer. “I’m not saying another word until I speak with an attorney.”

“I’m an attorney,” Harris reminded him caustically.

“I want a criminal attorney, not one who specializes in probate.” The other man’s eyes sparked with indignation.

“Then by all means, find one.”

Sheriff Davis opened his office door, and a deputy walked in. While handcuffing Geoff Duncan, he recited his rights.

“I know my rights,” Geoff snapped. “This isn’t necessary.”

The deputy didn’t listen and led him out of the office.

Dave sat there in stunned disbelief. “Martha gave him the letter.”

“I’m sure he destroyed it,” Roy McAfee said, speaking for the first time.

“How did he know where she kept her jewelry?”

Roy answered this. “As I told Dave, the freezer’s not exactly an original place to hide your valuables.”

“He probably took them that very day,” Allan said. “Martha’s hearing was bad and she wouldn’t have heard him open the freezer door.”

“But…why frame me?” Dave asked.

“You made a convenient target,” Roy said. “You’re the one who found her.”

“When did he put the earrings in my suit coat?” Dave asked with a frown. “Oh—wait. I left my jacket at Martha’s that day.”

It had completely slipped his mind until now. The day had been warm and he’d taken off his coat, then returned the same afternoon—obviously after Geoff’s visit—to pick it up. He’d hung it on the back of his office door, where it stayed…until Emily took it home.

“Geoff guessed, and rightly so, that you knew where she kept her jewelry. You had the gold watch and it was easy enough to destroy the letter and plant evidence on you.”

Dave felt foolish. He hadn’t even noticed that there was anything in the pockets; he’d carried it to the office and hung it up.

“How did you figure it out?” Allan Harris asked the sheriff.

Troy grinned. “Actually it was a simple matter of putting two and two together. Once I got hold of the pawnshop receipt and had Geoff’s name, I was able to subpoena his bank records. There was no other way to explain those hefty deposits.” He gestured at the private investigator. “Roy helped me out—he has contacts in the Seattle area who were able to steer me toward local pawnshops.”

“Sheriff Davis gives me too much credit,” Roy said. “We got lucky. Once we had a photo of Duncan and pictures of the missing jewelry, it was just a matter of doing a little legwork. So the sheriff sent a deputy to a few of the higher-end pawnshops—and everything fell into place.”

Dave Flemming owed the sheriff and Roy a debt of gratitude. He knew they’d say they were only doing their jobs, but they could have taken the evidence at face value. He would be eternally glad they hadn’t.

“Are we free to go?” Emily asked.

Sheriff Davis nodded. “One question first.”

“Sure.”

“What do you want me to do with the gold watch?”

Dave didn’t hesitate. “Return it to her family. Can we go now?”

The sheriff grinned. “You’re taking up space in my office, Pastor Flemming. It seems to me you’ve got a Christmas program to prepare. Am I right?”

Dave looked from one man to the other. “I do. And…and,” he stammered, “thank you. Thank you both.”

“Thank you so much,” Emily chimed in.

Dave and Emily left the police station and practically ran to their car. Dave unlocked the doors and once they’d scrambled inside they hugged each other fiercely. “It’s over, it’s over,” he told Emily.

“Thank God,” she said. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you. I’m sorry for everything.”

“Given the same set of circumstances, I’m sure I wouldn’t have behaved any differently.”