Page 54 of Peach Cobbler Confessions
“It is.” He fiddles with his phone and holds it out for me to see. “Ridge snapped this picture of Dane, Jade, and me that night. I keep looking at it, unable to wrap my head around the fact that was the very last time I would see him alive.”
Both Collette and I lean in to get a better look.
There they are, Dane with his arms around both of their shoulders. Jade doesn’t look too happy about it, but Kent is grinning from ear to ear.
“Look at that smile, Lottie,” Collette whispers as if there was a chance Kent could hear her. “This man is a lover, not a fighter. Are you sure we’ve got the right serial killer?”
She of all people should know; she was there with me last night.
Something in the picture catches my eye.
“Kent, can I hold this closer?” I ask while gently taking the phone from him and expanding the screen. Dane Gannon looks back at me with that winning smile, those clear eyes that had no idea this was the last picture he would be taking. “Oh my God,” I whisper as I expand the screen further to see a navy cloth with tiny gold triangles hanging sloppily out of the pocket of Dane’s suit jacket. The mysterious cloth we found last night in that chest. It belonged to Dane.
“Lottie!” Collette all but screams. “Do you see it?” She points down to the screen just as Kent takes the phone back.
“Whoa.” Kent dips down in an effort to lock eyes with me. “Are you okay? I get it, this is hard to see. I shouldn’t have shown you the picture. Do you want me to get you a glass of cold water? A chair maybe?”
“No.” I back away slowly. “Kent”—a thought comes to me, a way in which Noah can enter into Kent’s office without a search warrant—“Jade mentioned something about the fact you have a special award in your office. Noah, my boyfriend, he’s about to come back. If you tell him where it is, he could get it and bring it here. I think Ridge wanted a shot of it or something for the scene.” Okay, so that was all a bit of a stretch, but I have got to get Noah access to that sickening box of trophies Kent is harboring.
He juts his head forward. “What office? I don’t have an office.”
Collette shakes her head. “There’s nothing I hate more than a man trying to weasel out of the truth.”
I nod. “Yes, you do,” I say directly to Kent. I’m half-moved to mention that I’ve been there myself. “I’m sure a man of your importance has a space to do business in—like, say, in your home?”
He glances to the ceiling. “Nope. I don’t need one. All I’ve got is a filing cabinet in a spare closet. But I do have an office in my home, bookshelves, big desk, the whole nine yards, courtesy of Ridge Porter.”
“Ridge decorated your office?”
“He decoratedhisoffice. A couple of years ago he lost his lease and asked if he could rent space out of my home. And never being one to miss a dollar, I took him up on the offer.”
Collette and I exchange a glance.
“Kent, are you telling me you don’t use the office in your own home at all?”
He shakes his head. “And you want to hear something?”
I lean in with wide-eyed anticipation.
“I’m not making it cheap for him.” He chuckles. “I’ve got that loon paying half my mortgage because of it.”
“Why wouldn’t Ridge keep an office in his own home?”
He waves it off. “Something to do with keeping the authorities at bay.”
I suck in a quick breath. “The sheriff’s department?”
Kent looks momentarily thrown for a loop.
He leans in. “I’m pretty sure he meant the IRS.” He gives a quick wink. “I’m off to get another one of those mini peach cobblers. Tastes exactly how my mother used to make it. You’re a great baker, Lottie Lemon.” He takes off and I make a face at Collette.
“I’m not such a hot detective, though, am I?”
Collette huffs a dull laugh. “Are you kidding? You’re about to bust a serial killer. You’re one baker who is about to make history. Shall we go and find him?”
I scan the room until I come upon him and nod.
“Let’s have a chat with what could be the most notorious serial killer Vermont has ever seen.”