No Gravestone Left Unturned (A Jane Ladling Mystery 2)

She smoothed the sides of her purple dress and cleared her throat. “Hi, Robby!” She winced at her exuberance, but quickly slapped on a smile, stretching her neck to angle her hat and block out the rest of the world.

His dark head jerked up at her greeting. He blanched when he spotted her, his brown eyes slitting in recognition. Then he hurried to hide his telling reaction with a polite mask. “Hello and welcome to the Gold Rush Museum, where you don’t have to dig to find a treasure. How may I help you?”

They’d never really spoken before. While they’d attended high school together, he’d been two grades younger and as popular as his sister. Jane’s best friend had been the school janitor, Mr. Harvey.

“Where’s Abigail?” she asked, adding a brighter shine to her smile, all you can trust me, I’m as sweet as sugar.

“Off today,” he said, cautious now. “Why?”

What a disappointment. Might as well proceed with a bang. “Abigail helped me out after Dr. Hotchkins’s death, and I’d like to return the favor.” Truth. Sort of. Abigail had dropped the first clue: Dr. Hots and his infamous exam room vitamin D injections. Her words, not Jane’s. “I came to tell her there are terrible rumors floating around. She’s mentioned...and so are you.”

“Me?” His hand shook as he reached for a can of soda he’d hidden behind a wall of sticky notes. Gulp, gulp, gulp. “What are people saying?” The question grated from him, as if he’d tried to hold it back.

Hmm. Interesting reaction. He was unwillingly intrigued.

Get into character. Jane looked left, right, then left again, really selling her need for secrecy, then leaned over the laminate counter. “Someone accused you two of murdering Tatiana Irons.” It was me. No reason to mention the journals yet.

He flew to his feet, soda splashing over his hand, the chair wheeling back. Color drained from his face. “I didn’t! Abby didn’t either.” His voice boomed, everyone nearby glancing over. An older employee put a finger to her lips to shush him. Robby scrambled for a wad of paper towels under the desk and blotted up the liquid he’d spilled. “I hated Ana, but I never hurt her. I wouldn’t.”

“Why did you hate her? You were dating, right? Gus says you guys had a fight or something.”

A scowl drew his brows closer together as he tossed the damp towels in a trash can. “Gus has a big mouth.”

Yes, he did. A nervous habit or redirecting guilt for some reason?

“Ana drained my accounts,” Robby snapped. “Took every cent I had. Why do you think I’m working a second job here?”

Wait. “Ana stole from you?” The hard-hitting journalist?

“I swear on my life she did. I discovered the theft only a week before she died.” He plopped into his chair and leaned back, as if the weight of the world had just settled on his shoulders. “I confronted her, and she blamed some guy. Said he was framing her for the theft of my savings to force her off his trail. But I knew better. On our dates, Ana constantly asked personal questions. Information she must have used to log in to my accounts.”

Jane’s every instinct pinged. There was something here. There must be. The Robber…a speed dating thief. That was no coincidence. But did this mean Robby wasn’t The Robber? “Did she happen to mention the guy’s name?”

“Yeah. Blake Crawford. Some real estate agent in Atlanta. Yes, I dug into his life online.” He glared at her, as if she were responsible for his current predicament. “I haven’t spoken to him, though. I haven’t spoken to anyone.”

A real estate agent might know his way around an illicit flower bed. And what if Ana had stolen from Robby, her stories nothing but wild speculation? What if she’d ripped off this Blake guy too, planning to pit one victim against the other? If Blake had any ties to speed dating or even Tiffany and Jake…

Hmm. Blake. Jake. Could rhyming names mean anything?

A mystery for later. If Blake had swindled Robby and framed Ana? What then?

Either way, Jane had just lined up her next person of interest. “You haven’t spoken to anyone but the authorities, right?”

“Are you kidding?” Robby ran a hand through his hair. “One week I’m accusing Ana of theft, the next she’s dead. I don’t want to draw any unwanted attention to myself. Unless and until the cops visit me, I say nothing.”

Uh… “Why tell me then?”

Robby laughed without humor. “You’re the cemetery girl who helped GBH close the last case. So do us both a favor and help them close this one. And if not, well, this will all blow up in your face, not mine. That might be the best outcome for everyone.”

Jane disliked him on the spot, but she also appreciated his reasoning. That wouldn’t stop her from busting him if he committed this crime. “Thanks for your help.”