Scone Cold Killer Page 4

  Of course, if Maybelle had done her job, Gia could have started cleaning up while the café was still open.

  “How did you find the body?”

  The second officer returned and nodded to his partner.

  “Umm… I’d just finished up and was getting ready to go home. My car was parked out back, so I was going to drop the garbage in the dumpster on my way to the car.”

  “Mmm…hmm…” He wrote something down on a pad similar to the one she used for taking orders.

  His partner still stood beside the open door.

  “It was getting dark, and shadows blocked the dumpster, so I didn’t notice anything at first, but as I got closer, I saw a hand sticking out. I thought Harley had gone back in there, because he was there this morning, but then I saw the hand and knew it wasn’t Harley, so I came back in and called the police.” She clenched her teeth to stem the rambling flow of words.

  He frowned at her. “And what makes you think it’s your ex-husband?”

  What had made her so certain it was Bradley? The ring, but anything else? Because surely he wasn’t the only man in the world to wear that ring. “His ring. And the perfect manicure, of course.”

  He lifted a brow. “Of course.”

  What did he mean by that?

  “I’m going to have to ask you to stay here for a little while until the detectives get here.”

  She had no doubt it was a command, not a request, but in the spirit of seeming cooperative, she answered anyway. “That’s fine. Can I make some coffee?”

  “Not yet.”

  That was probably for the best. As jittery as she already was, caffeine was the last thing she needed.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.” He might have said it, but her mind had been so clouded at the time, she couldn’t remember.

  “Officer Dumont.”

  “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Gia Morelli…” Heat crept up her cheeks. “But I guess you already knew that.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Do you know if it’s Bradley?”

  “The body hasn’t been identified yet.” His gaze shifted toward his partner, a subtle shift, but enough for Gia to suspect they knew exactly who was in the dumpster. “When was the last time you saw your ex, Ms. Morelli?”

  A clear image of Bradley being led out of the courtroom in handcuffs flashed into her mind. He’d stared directly at her, anger etched into every line of his hard expression.

  “Ms. Morelli?”

  “I’m sorry. I…uh… The last time I saw him was back in New York about a month ago.” It would be foolish to try to stall. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t figure out who he was on their own anyway. Heck, they probably already knew. But she’d been so determined to leave her past behind her. Admitting the truth now seemed…an awful lot like reliving the nightmare. She sighed. “When they were leading him out of the courtroom after he was convicted.”

  If Officer Dumont was surprised, it didn’t show in his expression. “Have you had any contact with him since then?”

  “No. He’s out on bail. He was due in court for sentencing sometime, but I’m not sure when.” Even though she’d been present for the conviction, once the judge had proclaimed him “guilty” all rational thought had fled.

  Dumont stared at her a moment longer than necessary. “He’s still out on bail while awaiting sentencing?”

  “He has a great lawyer.” She shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling searching for a hold on her. “And he had already filed an appeal.”

  One of the main witnesses against him had recanted her testimony, risking perjury charges, then disappeared. Officer Dumont could figure that one out on his own. All he had to do was google Bradley Remington’s name and all the sordid details would pop right up. She was tired and had no intention of rehashing the past year of her life.

  Her mind flashed back to the stranger from New York. Caleb, he’d said his name was. She thought of mentioning him to Officer Dumont but dismissed the idea before she could blurt out his name. Millions of people lived in New York. Of course, they didn’t all happen to be in her café on the very day her ex-husband was found in her dumpster, and yet…

  She shook off the far-fetched idea. If he had killed Bradley, why would he come into the café and risk being seen? Besides, she knew all too well how it felt to be dragged into an investigation you had no knowledge of, and she could never do that to another person.

  Two officers emerged from the back of the shop. Officer Dumont’s partner must have opened the back door.

  Gia braced herself for the stench and inhaled tentatively. Thankfully, it didn’t reach the dining room.

  Another officer strode through the room and leaned close to Officer Dumont.

  She had no idea how many officers were out back, but she assumed there were probably quite a few. Murders didn’t often happen in Boggy Creek, at least, according to the statistics Savannah had spewed when she’d been trying to talk Gia into moving to the small town.

  Great. She’d barely been there a day, and already the murder quota for the year had been met. She flopped onto a chair at the table closest to the open front door, as far away from the back parking lot as she could get. She had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 4

  Gia slouched in the chair and traced circles with her finger on the dark blue tablecloth. Around and around, while she waited for the detectives Officer Dumont promised were coming to show up. He still hadn’t let her make coffee. He also hadn’t let her call anyone, though who she’d call was beyond her. Savannah, probably. But why wake her in the middle of the night? Not like there was anything she could do to help.

  “Ms. Morelli?” A man’s voice startled her.

  She jerked upright and stared up into big eyes the color of melted chocolate. Her stomach growled, and she pressed a hand against it. Heat flared in her cheeks. “Uh, sorry. I haven’t eaten in a while.”

  “We’ll let you get something in a few minutes,” he promised.

  Gee, thanks. She bit her tongue to keep anything sarcastic from flying out. Whoever this guy was, although he only wore jeans, a black T-shirt, and work boots, his confident bearing and hard expression screamed importance. She got the impression she shouldn’t mess with him.

  “I’m Detective Quinn.” He extended a calloused hand.

  It’s about time. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Pleasure’s all mine.” All southern gentleman, in a dangerous predator sort of way. He pulled out the chair on the other side of the table and studied her as he sat. “I know you’ve already spoken to Officer Dumont, but would you mind walking me through what happened tonight.”

  It was definitely not a question. “I went to put the garbage out and found my ex in the dumpster.” She thought about elaborating, but what more was there to say, really?

  “And what made you think it was your ex?”

  “As I told Officer Dumont, I thought I recognized his ring, and Bradley had manicures regularly.” More often than she did, actually, but in her own defense, it was hard to keep her nails perfectly manicured while working in a deli. “He always said, ‘the first thing you do when you meet someone is reach out a hand. Hands say a lot about a person.’” And his just screamed pompous ass. Hmm… Maybe he was right about that after all.

  She looked at her own hands, a little rough, despite the lotion she used every night, nails neatly polished in a deep maroon but kept at a comfortable length. What did they tell the detective about her?

  “When was the last time you saw Mr. Remington?”

  Seriously? Did these guys read from a script? “Last month.”

  He pursed his lips. “He didn’t come into the café today?”

  “No.” Of course, she’d been stuck in the kitchen a good part of the day. Firing Maybelle just shot to the top of her to-do lis
t. “At least, not that I know of. I was in the back cooking most of the day.”

  He nodded, fished a small notepad out of his shirt pocket, and flipped through a few pages.

  The need to know who was in the dumpster hammered her. She couldn’t wait any longer. “Do you know if it’s Bradley?” she blurted.

  He considered her a moment, and she didn’t think he was going to answer. “Yes. He’s been positively identified.”

  The news came as a physical blow. Her chest tightened, squeezing her lungs, making it almost impossible to get enough air.

  “Do you know of any next of kin?”

  “No.” Gia tried to force the words out but only managed to whisper, “None.” Bradley never spoke about his family. Even when she’d asked, he’d simply said he didn’t have any family. Maybe she should have realized then that he kept secrets, but she’d figured whatever had happened was too painful for him to talk about, and she’d respected his privacy.

  “Are you all right?”

  Still trying to gain control of her breathing, she only nodded.

  He returned to flipping through his notebook.

  Not that she hadn’t expected it to be him. In her heart, she’d known from the moment she recognized his ring. And it didn’t come as that much of a surprise, enough people certainly wanted him dead. But knowing the man she’d loved enough to marry at one time now lay dead in a dumpster behind her café brought a surreal quality she couldn’t even begin to examine just then. She had to get out of there, had to go home. But where was home? She longed for her apartment in New York, needed the familiarity, the comfort going home would bring. Would it be safe to return now that Bradley was—

  “Here ya go, Hunt.” Officer Dumont handed Detective Quinn a plastic bag with a white paper inside.

  “Thanks, Leo.”

  He nodded and left.

  Quinn turned the bag over and over, not even shifting his gaze from her long enough to look at whatever was in the bag.

  Her curiosity piqued, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what it was. She held his stare, unwilling to drop her gaze for an instant. When he was done sizing her up, there was no way he’d be left with the impression she was weak. Or guilty of anything.

  “Are you sure your husband wasn’t in the café today?”

  Don’t look away. Don’t look away. “I already told you, not that I know of, but I was back in the kitchen a lot of the day.”

  “Because this was found in his pocket.” He laid the bag down and slid it toward her without looking at it.

  Great, now she had to make a choice. Maintain eye contact, or lower her gaze to look at the bag. It seemed weird not to look at what he was showing her, so she glanced down, fully intent on resuming eye contact an instant after she checked out what was so important.

  But the receipt encased in the bag gripped her and wouldn’t let go. All-Day Breakfast Café, right there in bold print on top of a receipt for a vegetable omelet and coffee. Bradley had always loved her vegetable omelets. Had he been in the café? Had he known it was hers? He had to have. Why else would he have been there? A tear smacked the table.

  Detective Quinn handed her a tissue.

  She had no idea where it came from, but she thanked him and wiped her nose, then used her hands to swipe the tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I…” She shook her head. “I didn’t know he came in.”

  He pursed his lips and nodded.

  “Gia!” Savannah rushed through the open door and straight to her side. “Are you all right?”

  “Savannah? What are you doing here?”

  A furious blush rode Officer Dumont’s cheeks as he whirled away and busied himself with something.

  Detective Quinn shot a scowl at his back.

  Savannah wrapped an arm around Gia’s shoulders and hugged her close, then pinned Detective Quinn with a frown. “What’s going on, Hunt?”

  “Just chatting with Ms. Morelli, here.” A smirk played at the corner of his mouth. “I take it you two know each other?”

  “You know dang well we know each other.”

  “Just following procedure, ma’am.”

  “Don’t you, ma’am me.”

  A full-out grin shot across his face, and he held his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. Sorry, cuz.”

  “Yeah, well you’d better be, or I’ll tell Aunt June you’re acting up again. And have no doubt, Aunt June’ll still take a switch to ya, no matter how big y’all are.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” His deep, rich laughter transformed him. In an instant, Detective Quinn went from a hardened bad ass, to a not-so-scary-but-still-kinda-scary bad ass. “I’m sorry, Savannah. I wanted to get a chance to question Ms. Morelli before you stormed in like a pit bull and interfered with my investigation.”

  Savannah let out a surprisingly unladylike snort and dropped onto the chair next to Gia’s.

  Ignoring her, the detective leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Look, Ms. Morelli—”

  “Gia,” Savannah interrupted, sliding forward to perch on the edge of her seat. “This is my friend Gia Morelli.” She turned to Gia. “And this is my cousin, Hunter Quinn, but everyone calls him Hunt.” Apparently manners took precedence over a murder investigation. At least, in Savannah’s mind. Who knew?

  Hunter stared at her a moment longer, then turned his attention back to Gia without acknowledging his cousin. “Pleasure to meet you, Gia.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.”

  With a self-satisfied smirk, Savannah leaned back and folded her arms across her chest.

  Hunt just shook his head. Apparently, he was used to Savannah’s behavior. “How long have you been in Florida, Gia?”

  “I just arrived yesterday.”

  “Not a very pleasant welcome.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  “Do you know anyone who would have any reason to kill your ex-husband?”

  A snort slipped out, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.

  “Take your pick. The list is long,” Savannah answered for her. She leaned forward on the table and lowered her voice. “You can’t possibly think Gia killed him and hauled him into that dumpster. Seriously? If she didn’t kill him before she left New York, why bother now?”

  “Savannah!” She had a sneaking suspicion Savannah wasn’t helping matters.

  But Hunt only shrugged and sat back. “She didn’t have to do it herself. She could have hired someone. What better time to have him offed than after she was gone?”

  “Oh, please. You have got to be kidding me. First of all, if she was going to have someone kill him after she was gone, why do it here? It would have made more sense to have someone kill him back in New York. Besides, between buying the café, flying back and forth on weekends to set it up, and buying a house, she doesn’t even have any money left, barely enough to buy that stupid clunker of a car parked out back. You’d better—” Savannah shifted back in her seat, sitting up straighter, her gaze riveted on an older man who’d just walked in.

  Hunt glanced over his shoulder, then stood. “Captain Hayes.”

  “Hunt.” He nodded toward Savannah. “Savannah. How are you?”

  “I’m doing well, thank you.”

  After introductions were made, which Hunt handled properly with no snide remarks from Savannah, who seemed to have sobered since the older man entered, they all returned to their seats, with Captain Hayes taking the last seat at the table.

  Any friendliness Hunt had begun to show fled with the addition of his captain. “Ms. Morelli and I were just discussing the possibility of a hired assassin.”

  All eyes fell on her.

  “Um… I don’t know. I imagine someone could have hired a killer.”

  “Do you have any idea what Bradley Remington was doing in Florida?”

&
nbsp; “I can’t even imagine. He hated Florida, hated the heat and the humidity and the bugs.” He’d indulged her once, taking her to Florida for a long weekend, and he’d done nothing but complain the entire time. She’d been ready to choke him by the time they got home. Speaking of choking… “Do you know what happened to him?”

  Captain Hayes stared hard at her. “He was killed.”

  Heat flared in her cheeks. “I meant, do you know how?”

  “He was shot in the head, Ms. Morelli.” Hayes narrowed his eyes and studied her closely. “You don’t seem surprised.”

  Hunt winced and shot Savannah a look Gia couldn’t decipher, but he remained silent.

  What could she say? Bradley’s behavior had ceased to surprise her long ago. The fact he was killed didn’t change that. Considering the sheer number of people he’d cheated, the biggest surprise was he hadn’t been killed sooner.

  Hunt flipped through page after page of his notebook, finally settling on something that caught his attention. “After Savannah told me about your situation last Thanksgiving…”

  Savannah’s chair creaked beside her.

  “I sort of kept tabs on what was going on. Your ex was awaiting trial?” Hunt continued.

  “No, he was sentenced already. He was awaiting an appeal.”

  “Oh, right. He was an investor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Stealing money from his clients.”

  She shifted, uncomfortable under the Captain’s steady stare and Hunt’s interrogation. It wasn’t like she’d done anything wrong. She hadn’t even known what he was doing. He didn’t discuss his work with her. Ever. Said it was boring. “Yes.”

  He nodded, contemplated his pad a little longer, then closed it and stood abruptly. “All right, Ms. Morelli, I’ll be in touch if I have any more questions.”

  Gia looked back and forth between Hunt and Captain Hayes.

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you for your cooperation.” Captain Hayes shook her hand and started to turn away.

  Now what? Was she just supposed to go home and forget anything happened? Her stomach growled again. “Is it okay if I make coffee now?”