The Liar

“Nothing.” She came back in, waited for Griff to turn from his station at the door. “Everything’s just as it should be. But I checked the computer in Daddy’s office here, and I think someone was on there, too. It doesn’t look like they took anything, but there were searches on it when I know no one was home.”

“Okay. Why don’t you sit down a minute?”

“I’ve got to get dinner going. Callie needs to eat.”

“How about a beer?”

She shook her head, then sighed. “I wouldn’t mind a glass of wine. My nerves are shot. I can’t begin to say how tired I am of my nerves being shot.”

“It doesn’t show. This work?” He picked up a bottle of red from the counter with a blue glass stopper.

“It would.”

“I’ll get it.”

He reached up for a wineglass while she dug out potatoes for peeling.

“Something more personal, you said.” She let the homey task soothe her, tried to think objectively. “My first thought goes to Melody, but I honestly can’t see her thinking of something like this. It’s too complicated.”

“Not Melody. She goes for violence or vandalism.”

She peeled a potato, quickly. “You’re thinking of the murder, but that’s violence. That’s as violent as it gets.”

“I’m thinking connections, and how one thing fits with another.”

“Richard.” Her hands stilled briefly as she looked up. “Richard’s been the root of about all the trouble I’ve had, and the trouble you’ve had comes through me.”

“Not through you, Red.”

“Through me,” she corrected. “I’m not taking blame. I spent too much time taking blame for things I didn’t do, things I couldn’t stop, but facts are facts. Connections,” she repeated, and started on the next potato.

“Okay. If we look at connections—” Griff broke off as he heard the front door open. “That’ll be Forrest. Let’s leave it to the professional.”

“I couldn’t be happier to do just that.”

Forrest walked in, took a beer from the fridge. “Spell it out for me.”

“Somebody got to my keys, and used them to get into the house, then into my laptop like they did Griff’s. I can’t find anything else taken, and I keep some cash money, just a little, in my top drawer.”

“Which is the first place a burglar’s going to look. Move it. Tampon box is a pretty safe place.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but he obviously wasn’t after cash or valuables.”

“Information’s valuable. Where were your keys?”

“In my purse.”

“Come on, Shelby, don’t be a jerk about it.”

“All right, all right.” She drew in a breath, picked up the wine. Settled down a bit, she went back to peeling as she related the key hunt.

“I know I had them when I got to rehearsal. I took them out of the ignition. I used the key Derrick gave me, because I can rehearse early sometimes, before anyone gets in. That’s what I did today. I was in and out before anyone came in, so I used them to lock up again when I left, put them in the side pocket of my purse, like always. I always put them there. I’m not careless.”

“Never were. She’s always been an organized soul,” Forrest said to Griff. “You may not get the rhyme or reason why she puts something where she puts it, but she knows where she put it.”

“Saves time. I went into the salon, and I put my purse behind the counter. Nobody would go after my keys who works there, Forrest. I know all the girls there, and most of the customers now. I mean, the regulars. We get tourists and such, but it would be next to impossible for one of them to go behind the counter, dig in my purse, come up with my keys without somebody noticing. We weren’t all that busy today.”

“So it stayed there, behind the counter, until you got it back out to go home, and couldn’t find the keys?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I took it with me to get the lunch orders. So I had it with me when I went to Sid and Sadie, then to the Pizzateria, where they somehow ended up under the front counter. I just figured I’d dropped them out somehow.”

“Which is what you were supposed to think, and would have kept thinking if our honorary deputy wasn’t on the ball.”

“It wasn’t hard to figure it out,” Griff put in.

“I wouldn’t have,” Shelby corrected. “I wouldn’t have given it another thought.”

“Did you bump into anybody, get bumped into, while you were picking up the orders?” Forrest asked her.

“No.” Brow furrowed, she took herself back through the route, as she had over and over again while she’d searched for the keys.

“I hit the lunch places just after the rush, because Jolene came in to apologize, and that took some time. I guess somebody could’ve gotten their hand in my bag, but it seems like I’d’ve known it. I did nearly bump into somebody,” she remembered. “I was hurrying back because I was running behind, and nearly bumped into this man looking for the best route up Rendezvous Trail.”

“Mmm-hmm. He asked you about that, asked for directions?”