Page 19 of Tide and Seek (Dr. Maxwell Thornton Murder Mysteries #8)

Maxwell

Detective Hartley arrived at exactly noon, apparently a man who valued punctuality. Through the window, I watched him pause to survey the beach where the crime scene tape had been removed the day before, leaving only disturbed sand and a few evidence markers to show where a woman had lost her life.

When I opened the door, Hartley’s presence filled the entryway. He was about forty, with weathered good looks, sun-bleached blond hair, and the lean build of someone who probably stayed in shape out of necessity rather than vanity. His handshake was very firm, which came as no surprise.

“Appreciate you both making time to talk to me today,” Hartley said in a gruff voice.

“Of course,” Royce replied. “We’re here to help however we can.”

“Yes.” I nodded, closing the door behind him. “Although, I’m not sure how much help we’ll be.”

“You never know.” Hartley’s gray gaze settled on me.

“Would you like some coffee?” I offered, already moving toward the kitchen. “I just made a fresh pot.”

“That’d be great,” Hartley said, settling into one of the uncomfortable designer chairs. He didn’t seem to notice, though, as he pulled out a pen and a small, well-worn notebook. “Beautiful place you have here, Dr. Thornton. Is this your permanent residence?”

“Uh, no. It’s a vacation home,” I called from the kitchen, the sound of mugs clinking together punctuating my words. “I live in Rainy Dale, Texas, now.”

“Ah, yes. I believe your neighbor C.J. mentioned that.” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “My brother lives in Dallas. I’m not familiar with Rainy Dale.”

Royce laughed. “Not surprising. Rainy Dale’s small and out of the way. It’s west of Fort Worth, about an hour from Dallas. Once you leave the city, it’s just two-lane roads, cattle, and wide-open sky until you get there.”

“I see.” Hartley frowned. “And you live there full-time now, Dr. Thornton?”

“Yes,” I said flatly, concentrating on pouring the coffee. I’m sure he couldn’t grasp why I’d choose to live in Rainy Dale over this seaside paradise.

“How long have you owned this beach house?”

“Ten years,” I said. “Cream or sugar in your coffee, Detective Hartley?”

“Black is fine. Thanks.” Hartley scribbled in his notepad.

“If you don’t mind my asking, how long since you’ve been back here?

” he asked in a way that made me think he already knew the answer.

In fact, I was beginning to suspect he hadn’t asked me anything he didn’t already know the answer to.

That made me feel wary, even though I had nothing to hide.

“I’ve been gone for close to a year now. I only came back because my beach house was burgled.”

“Right.” Hartley made a note. “Any particular reason you moved away?”

I felt my shoulders tense slightly as I returned with three mugs of coffee. “I bought a medical clinic in Rainy Dale.”

“That’s right.” He pursed his lips, his expression difficult to read. “From what I’ve heard, you had a very successful career as a surgeon here in LA.”

I nodded, handing Royce and him each a mug of coffee.

I took the seat across from Hartley, sipping my coffee.

I didn’t really taste it, though. I was too conscious of Hartley’s intense gaze.

He seemed to be the sort of man who noticed all the little things people tried so hard to hide.

And even though I was hiding nothing, I felt conspicuous.

“It’s true that I was very successful here. I uh… I lost a patient on the operating table and I decided I needed a change.”

His gaze sharpened. “That must have been rough.”

“It was.” I met Royce’s gaze and he winked. It was a small gesture, but it was also strangely comforting.

Hartley picked up his coffee and took a long sip. Once he’d set it back down on the coffee table, he met my gaze. “Well, that brings us to why I’m here. We’ve identified the victim from yesterday.”

I lifted my brows. “Okay, that’s good. I guess.”

Royce nodded. “Yes.”

Hartley cleared his throat. “Her name was Dorothy Brownstone. Seventy-three years old, originally from Bakersfield but lived here at Ocean Whisper Estates for twenty years before selling her place about four years ago.”

I widened my eyes. “Mrs. Brownstone was the victim on the beach?” I was flabbergasted as I turned to Royce.

“She was the woman with all the cats?” he asked.

“Yes.” I nodded.

“You knew her, correct, Dr. Thornton?” Hartley’s pen was poised over his notebook.

“Of course. She lived next door, in the house C.J. lives in now.” I set my coffee down unsteadily, my hands shaking.

“She wasn’t the most pleasant neighbor, but I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kill her.

” Truthfully, there were probably plenty of people who’d have loved to hurt the old bat, James, for one. But I kept that to myself.

Hartley studied my reaction with the practiced eye of someone who’d conducted hundreds of interviews. “When was the last time either of you saw Mrs. Brownstone?”

“I never had the pleasure of meeting her,” Royce said politely.

Hartley turned his curious gaze on me.

I grimaced. “I hadn’t seen her since she sold her home to C.J.

and moved. When I lived in LA before moving to Rainy Dale, I used to split my time between this beach house and a home I own in Brentwood.

We weren’t… er… close. I don’t believe she was very close to anyone who lived here in the estates. ”

I was being tactful. I wasn’t even sure C.J. had liked her, and C.J. seemed to like everyone. From what I’d heard, Mrs. Brownstone had made so many unreasonable demands during escrow that the sale had almost fallen through more than once.

Royce leaned forward slightly. “Detective, do you know the cause of death yet?”

Hartley hesitated, possibly weighing how much he wanted to share.

“Blunt force trauma to the head. Preliminary examination suggests she was struck from behind with something heavy, possibly a rock. We’ve finished with the scene, but the evidence is still being processed and we’ve yet to determine the murder weapon. ”

“Do you know when she died?” I asked.

Hartley grimaced. “Before I give you any more details, would you mind telling me what time you arrived in LA Tuesday night?”

I frowned. “We landed at LAX around 6:00 p.m. and got to the estates probably around 8:00 p.m. I’m sure you can check the time I punched in my code at the front gate, or the car company I hired could verify the time we arrived.” Something told me Hartley had probably already done that.

“And what did you do when you arrived at the beach house?” Hartley asked politely.

“Well.” I squinted, trying to recall the events of that evening. “We looked around a little bit inside the house to see if anything obvious was missing. Then we went upstairs, and not long after that my neighbor, James Harper, dropped by for a visit.”

“Mr. Harper came to visit?” Hartley wrinkled his brow.

“Yes.” I nodded. “He didn’t stay long, only about a half hour. We had a drink together and then he left. I’m not exactly sure of the time, but it wasn’t super late.”

“And once he left, did you maybe go for a walk?”

I shook my head. “No, we were tired from the trip.” I hesitated. “We took a shower and we went to bed.”

“Together?” Hartley asked.

I laughed gruffly. “Yes, together.”

“And neither one of you left the bed?”

I frowned. “No. We were asleep. Why would we leave the bed?”

Hartley held up his hands. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m simply trying to figure out where everyone was at any given time.”

“You mean when the murder occurred,” Royce said.

“Of course.” Detective Hartley shrugged.

I studied him. “You think I flew all the way from Texas just to murder an old lady who I hadn’t spoken to in years?”

“I’m not saying that. But I have to ask where you were. I’m sure you understand.”

“I suppose you’re just doing your job,” I admitted grudgingly.

Hartley appeared undeterred by my displeasure. “What time did Mr. Harper arrive at your house for his visit?”

“Maybe 8:15 p.m.?” I glanced at Royce and he nodded. “We hadn’t been here long when he arrived.”

“What’d you and Mr. Harper talk about when he came for his visit?”

I lifted one shoulder. “We talked a bit about the old days, but mostly we discussed the break-in of my beach house. He felt bad that he couldn’t be of any help to the police.”

“Right.” Hartley pursed his lips. “He wasn’t any help because he was out of town visiting his mother in New York.”

“Exactly.” Something about his tone made me add, “He really does have an elderly mother who lives in New York.”

Hartley didn’t address my comment. “When Mr. Harper left your home, would you say he was inebriated?”

“No.” I once more met Royce’s gaze for confirmation.

Royce said, “I wouldn’t have said Mr. Harper was inebriated, no. He seemed perfectly sober.”

Hartley made some notations in his notepad. “When did Mr. Harper leave your home?”

“As I said, he arrived around 8:15 p.m. and he only stayed about a half hour.”

Hartley grunted. “And when he left your home, did he head back toward his house or down to the beach?”

Feeling uneasy, I narrowed my eyes. “He went in the direction of his house, but I didn’t watch him the entire time.” I hesitated. “You’re asking an awful lot of questions about James. You can’t possibly think he killed Mrs. Brownstone, right?”

Hartley’s gaze never wavered. “Since I don’t know what happened yet, I have to look at everyone as a possible suspect, Dr. Thornton.”

“We understand that’s how this works,” Royce interjected.

Feeling less magnanimous, I said, “James saves lives. He’s a surgeon. He doesn’t go around murdering defenseless old ladies.”

Irritation flickered in Hartley’s eyes. “With all due respect, anyone can commit murder, Dr. Thornton. That includes respected doctors.”

Royce cleared his throat. “Max has known James a long time. I’m sure you understand why he might feel protective of his friend.”