“They’re all cousins here. It’s the South, remember? Go on.”
“Granville walked into the party, hit Pembroke, and smashed his jaw. The man had to have it wired back together. The report doesn’t say what they fought about, but it must have been something big.”
“Granville broke the guy’s jaw, but the man didn’t press charges?”
“That’s right. Maybe it was a family thing.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Jared said softly. “Send me all that you have, will you? I want to know everything there is to know about him.”
“We don’t have much. He’s never even had a traffic ticket, but that town protects its own. You know what old lady Farrington did, don’t you, and that was covered up. The police report of her son’s death said ‘accidental drowning.’ ”
Jared had his own ideas about justice, so he didn’t comment on what Bill was saying. There had been more than once when Jared had played judge and jury. “Just send me what you have and I’ll find out what I can from the locals. Nobody knows people like childhood friends.” He changed the subject. “So what did you think of Tess’s watercolors?”
“Threw me for a loop. She never struck me as being the watercolor type. No, Tess Brewster was more the pit bull type. If I’d been told she owned any paintings, I would have guessed they were on velvet.”
“Find out about her painting, will you?”
“I’ve already sent out the order.”
Jared hesitated before he asked his next question. “Bill, isn’t your wife a member of some garden club?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she can use a shovel. She and her sister like to visit gardens around the world—at my expense.” There was disgust in Bill’s voice, but Jared ignored it.
“Could you find out what kind of things a real gardener would like? Not some lady-gardener things, but for a serious gardener.”
“Right. Something like that Melissa plant, maybe? Around here, we call that ‘the kissing plant.’ ”
“Wasn’t I sent here to woo her?” Jared asked, anger in his voice.
“Yeah, but it was supposed to be an act. And besides, you’re doing a very bad job of it. She sure doesn’t like you much, does she? And who is this woman who calls you every ten minutes?”
“Minnie Norfleet. She works for Granville. I don’t have time for her now. Besides, she’s not my type. As for Eden, she doesn’t like me because she doesn’t know me.”
“She feeds you and does your laundry. What else is there to know?”
Jared started to reply, but Bill’s chuckling stopped him. “Just get some gardening things, will you?”
“Are we talking a co
uple of plants or a twenty-thousand-dollar greenhouse?”
“Whatever is mobile. Tools, maybe. The old potting shed here is full of rusty shovels.”
“Who pays?”
“Me. Put it all on my AmEx.”
“If you’ll just give me your number—” Bill began, but that was too much for Jared. Like the FBI didn’t have the credit card numbers of pretty much everyone on the planet. When Jared didn’t answer, Bill laughed. “By the way, your new girlfriend, the stripper, she’s been out with some other men. I thought you might like to know that you’re free.”
Jared didn’t say anything for a moment. Just days ago, Bill had acted as though he didn’t know anything about Jared’s new girlfriend, but now he was admitting that he knew all about her—and had had her watched. Jared didn’t know if he should be grateful or offended. “I’m too old for this job,” he muttered as he snapped the phone shut, then went back into the house. He saw the light on under Eden’s bedroom door and started to knock and ask if everything was all right, but then he glanced up at the camera in the shadows and thought better of it. Everything that went on inside the house was now being watched by men at the agency, so he went to his own bedroom. As he put his hand on the knob, he heard the soft sounds of the washing machine and remembered what Bill had said: “She feeds you and does your laundry. What else is there to know?”
Jared told himself that Bill was right on one count: Jared needed to stand back from this case, distance himself. Did he really and truly like Eden Palmer, or was it just that he didn’t like to lose? He was being out-courted by a slick, small-town lawyer, and he didn’t like it. Was his problem that he was losing or was his problem Ms. Palmer herself?
He ran his hand over his eyes. Maybe Granville was on the up-and-up. Maybe he was just what he seemed to be: a small-town lawyer who had been knocked over by the arrival of a beautiful woman like Eden Palmer. Jared well knew how few women like Eden there were out there. Sometimes it seemed to him that if you didn’t find the right woman when you were in your twenties, then you lost your chance. It seemed that all the best women were claimed the moment they put on high heels.
But somehow, through circumstances, a grown-up woman like Eden was still unattached.
Bill was right: Jared was losing his perspective. He was getting to the point where he couldn’t see clearly. He’d have to change that or he’d be taken off the case. First, he had to figure out who was doing what and why. Was it all for that damned necklace? Who else would know that it actually existed and that Mrs. Farrington had found it? The man who’d helped her find it, Toddy, knew, at least one of his grandchildren, and…Jared’s eyes widened. Mrs. Farrington’s lawyer would probably know. Did Eden have a copy of the will? Or had Granville not bothered to give her one?