Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
He didn’t have to wait long. Sheriff Moore arrived with Tiffany Hotchkins. Details about the widow hit Conrad, one after the other. Five nine. Slender and sun kissed. Dark hair in a messy bun. Jane’s age. Visibly upset with bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Free of makeup. Wearing an orange tank and red shorts with mismatched socks and carrying a fancy designer bag. Had she dressed in a daze? Or on purpose?
Did he detect grief or a fear of getting caught? Both?
As the pair entered the room, Mrs. Hotchkins acknowledged Conrad’s presence and sniffled into a tissue. The sheriff made introductions while pulling out a chair on the opposite side of the table. She eased into it, and Moore sat beside her.
“I know this is awful of us to do,” the other man began with a pointed look Conrad’s way, “but it’s gotta be done. We need to know where you were last night.”
“I took a pill and passed out, okay?” She pressed her knuckles against her trembling mouth. Tears dripped from her eyes. “I’d just found out my husband cheated on me. That he’s been banging a patient for months. A married woman, I might add.”
“What’s her name?” he asked.
“You tell me. The person who sent me anonymous texts about them said only that she’s older than me and super unattractive. Can you believe it? You’d think Marcus could’ve done me the courtesy of picking someone younger and prettier, so I’d know how I failed to measure up. I hate him so much!” Fresh tears welled, and a whimper escaped. “Or I hated him, past tense. But I didn’t want him dead.”
As Moore inquired about the witness’s identity and obtained the phone number used to send those text, Conrad pondered the new information. The wife had no alibi but plenty of motive. Which, granted, could mean she’d done exactly as she asserted. On the other hand, her blunt honesty could be nothing but a lie. Either way, they needed to speak with the eyewitness who’d contacted her, then the alleged mistress, then the mistress’s spouse.
“The doctor’s death saves you from a nasty divorce,” Conrad stated when the wife failed to offer anything substantial about the informer. He might as well play the role of bad cop.
“You think I don’t know that?” Mrs. Hotchkins shouted. “Now I have to live the rest of my life without ever getting revenge. It’s not fair!” She crumpled in her seat, silently sobbing in the tissue.
Okay. Conrad had heard a lot of things during interrogations, but that was new.
“He ignored me for so long,” she said, sniffling. “Acted as if I meant nothing after I gave up everything for him! He pretended to be obsessed with his stupid treasure hunt. He really sold it, too, pretending to study the clues. Now the truth is so clear. Obviously he used the search for gold as an excuse to see his mistress!”
Hmm. A treasure hunt might explain the unearthing of the coffin. The philandering doctor could’ve hoped to steal jewelry from the deceased. “Tell us more about the gold.”
She swiped at her face, the action jerky. “Why? It’s stupid. I mean, there’s always been stories circulating around town about a missing fortune. Every kid in a fifty-mile radius dreams of being the one to find it. Then we grow up. Or some of us do,” she added with a bitter tinge. After wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she shook her head, as if attempting to align her thoughts. “Two years ago, the museum decided to celebrate the long-time rumors. Marcus and I donated family journals to the display and attended the opening event. Half the town did. He had no interest until a couple months ago. Something he read in another patron’s journals sparked his interest. Or seemed to. Guess that’s how he got the idea to cover up his affair.”
Was she correct? Had Dr. Hotchkins faked a treasure hunt? Why venture into the cemetery then? “I’d appreciate a look at his notes.” A good gold seeker kept good records, right?
“Whatever. You can have them. I don’t care anymore. Just find whoever did this and make them forever rot in prison.”
“Sheriff Moore will collect everything when he drives you home.” Conrad tapped a pen against the table. “Did your husband ever mention a treasure hunting partner?”
“Not by name.” With a scowl, Mrs. Hotchkins told him, “He was smart enough to pretend the little hussy was just one of the bros so I wouldn’t catch on.”
Or the partner really was a bro. “Do you know why Marcus visited the Garden of Memories in the middle of the night?” For that matter… “To your knowledge, did he ever visit the Garden before?”
Her nose wrinkled with distaste. “Are you asking if my husband slept with the cemetery girl? Because ew. No. No one is that desperate.”