Page 31 of Lost Hours
He released the latch on his seatbelt. “You don’t think Becca killed her father, do you?”
“What?” She gaped at him. “No. Not at all. She loved her dad, and they spent a lot of time together.”
“The together thing I knew about.” He let the belt slip through his hand until it rested against the door. “That was one of the reasons Jude stopped dating her. It was hard to schedule a date because she often had plans with her dad. He found that kind of odd.”
“It is unusual, I’ll grant you that. Could be from losing her mom. They were really close. It seems as if after her mom died, Becca let time with her dad take over.”
“So on the surface, it looks like she couldn’t possibly kill her father, but as law enforcement officers, we can’t rule that out until we have a solid alibi for the time of death.”
Mina nodded but didn’t want to agree. “Believing something bad about people you interact with every day is one of the hardest parts of small-town policing.” She killed the engine. “But, as you said, as law enforcement officers, we have to keep our minds open.” She met his gaze and held it. “And that includes considering Jude as a possible suspect.”
He flinched. “I know you’re wrong about that, but I also know we have to prove that he didn’t kill the mayor or find out who did.”
She hadn’t brought it up to discuss, just to remind him that Jude was their prime suspect at this point. Reaching over him, she opened the glove compartment and handed him a flashlight. “You might want this again.”
She pushed out of the vehicle and marched up to ring the doorbell, then pounded on the door in case Becca slept inside. Tapping her foot, she waited for someone to answer. A few seconds passed. Silence and no lights turning on inside. She knocked again, harder this time, using the side of her fist.
No reply.
She put on a pair of disposable gloves and checked the doorknob. “Locked.”
“Let’s check the perimeter, and see if we can find a way in,” Nolan suggested.
“Follow me and don’t touch anything without gloves on.” She chose the easy way to go, the side of the fence that held the gate. Maybe the other side had a gate, too, but that would be unusual. Using her gloved hand, she lifted the latch and slipped into the backyard. Nolan’s body blocked light coming from the street. The gate slammed shut behind him and most all of the light vanished.
She turned on her flashlight. The beam caught on moss and small ferns in the cracks of the cobblestone walkway that led her toward the back of the house. She flashed the light up to three large and closed windows. She tugged on the first one. Locked tight.
“Partially open window over here.” Nolan stood shining the beam of the borrowed flashlight at the third window.
She assessed the window. “You’ll have to damage the screen to get in, but with the mayor’s death and blood at Becca’s house, this definitely falls under exigent circumstances.” With a quick glance at the disposable gloves on his hands, she said, “Go for it. I’ll hold the light for you.”
She took it from him. He fished a small knife from his pocket, then sliced through the screen and ripped it from the window.
“You wouldn’t be a subtle burglar,” she said, trying to add some lightness to the heavy feeling in the air.
“Trust me. If I didn’t want to get caught I could be far more subtle.” He raised the window and climbed in.
She followed, landing in the mayor’s study. Once, when Mina was here, he’d proudly walked her through his sports memorabilia collection.
A sweet aroma snaked into her nostrils. “Do you smell that?”
He nodded. “Air freshener?”
“No. Perfume. Chanel N°5, to be exact.”
He whipped his head around to look at her. “How do you know that?”
“It’s what my mom wears.”
“So Becca’s perfume, then?”
“Doubt it. It’s not a young woman’s choice. This is a classic powdery and soapy scent that I didn’t pick up on at Becca’s house. Besides, I saw a bottle of Versace Bright Crystal on her dresser. My mom gave me a bottle of that for Christmas, hoping if I started wearing perfume, I might snare a man and settle down to give her grandchildren. It doesn’t smell anything like this.”
He opened his mouth, but then he closed it and took a long breath. Did he plan to say something about her comment on snaring a man? Maybe or maybe she was still being overly sensitive to him.
“Okay,” he said. “Could the scent still be lingering from his wife’s things?”
“Not likely. She passed away two years ago, and this is too strong, too recent.” Mina paused to think. “Unless he still sprayed it to remember her.”
