Page 71 of It's a Wonderful Knife

“I won’t. God. I’ll avoid the asshole.” He narrowed his eyes. “I had no idea what a hard-ass you are, Sheriff. You were more pleasant before.”

“Back at you, Jax.” I shook my head. “You can go. For now.”

He stood, giving me a wary look. He moved to the door and left quickly.

“He didn’t seem as cocky when he left.” Max laughed gruffly.

“No.” I sat down with a groan. “I’m already exhausted, and we’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“Do you think Jax is capable of murder?”

“Not sure. I kind of think anyone is, given the right reason.”

Max nodded. “What do you suppose Jax did for Richard? Or do you think Jax is making that up?”

“It’s hard to say. Richard is a snake, but Jax is no angel.”

“That’s for sure.” Max squinted up at the flickering fluorescent lights. “Those two seem similar, although Richard’s packaging is more sophisticated.”

“I agree. I’m trying to figure out Richard’s motive in steering us toward Jax. Is it because he’s guilty and trying to throw us off his scent? Or is he onto something by pointing out that Jax might have murdered Santiago in a jealous rage?”

“I can’t see why Richard would murder Santiago. I never saw them interact.”

“Me neither. Doesn’t mean they didn’t.”

He sighed. “Yeah. So, who do we interview next?”

I rubbed my tired eyes. They felt like sandpaper. “Either Gianna, Madison, or Leo, I would think.”

“Shall we pull names out of a hat?”

I groaned. “God, we need to bring in Mona and Ezra too.”

“This is going to be a long night.”

“We don’t have to talk to everyone tonight, but I wanted to talk to a select few for sure. Maybe we should grab some coffee before we start on the next bunch of interviews.”

“Sure. That sounds like a good idea. My eyes are almost crossing.”

I glanced at the pad on the desk. “Have you taken many notes?”

He grimaced. “Not many. It’s no joke how horrible a doctor’s handwriting is. I don’t think even I can read my handwriting.”

I smiled. “Let’s see if Mona scrounged up that tape recorder. Even if we could read your handwriting, it’s always better to have a recording of the actual statement.”

“I would think so.” He followed me out of the office.

When we entered the living room, I got a lot of uneasy stares. I couldn’t blame them for seeing me in a different light now. In an instant, I’d gone from friend to warden. I’d have much preferred to have Santiago sitting across from me, alive and well, hitting on all the women. I hadn’t become a cop because I loved solving murders. I’d become a cop to help my town. To keep peace and order. Murder was my least favorite part of the job.

When River walked up, I had to work really hard to stifle my groan.

“I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille,” River said in a singsong voice.

I forced a tired smile. “You’ll have to wait a bit longer.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “Good. That means I’m hopefully not a suspect.”

“Not at this time.”