Kelsey Roberts - Landry's Law

“At night?” Seth asked.

She handed him a cup of coffee and offered him cream and sugar, which he declined.

“That was my reaction. I still haven’t acclimated to the Montana cold.”

“So what did you do?”

Savannah gave him a wary glance. “I already told you I was joking about the sex. Nothing else happened.”

“You said goodbye at the restaurant?”

“Yes—well, sort of.”

“What is ‘sort of’?” Seth asked, hoping beyond hope she wouldn’t say it.

“We started out toward the parking lot when Harvey insisted we go down to the little bridge behind the inn to see the stream reflect the moonlight. I figured he was trying to be romantic.”

“Was it?”

“Not! After about five minutes of saying hello to those idiots who jog that path in any weather, at all hours of the day and night, I left Harvey to enjoy the moonlight and the health freaks on his own.”

“Did you see anyone in the parking lot? Did anyone see you leave? Maybe say goodbye?”

“Remember, I’m not very popular, but I don’t think so. Why?”

Seth met and held her gaze. “Because Harvey Whitlock is dead.”

He watched as Savannah’s jaw dropped. Unsteadily, she balanced back on her hands against the countertop. “This is not possible. You can’t seriously be telling me that I’ve had two blind dates in two weeks and they both died afterward.”

“Kind of. The problem is, I can’t find any evidence or witnesses that these men died after being with you.”

Savannah gasped. “You can’t think I killed two virtual strangers! I would have to be some sort of sicko Black Widow type!”

Seth took in a breath and let it out slowly.

“Are you?”

Main Street in Jasper had remained virtually unchanged since it sprang up around the 1860s, twenty years prior to Montana gaining statehood. Savannah pulled into a parking spot on the street in the middle of the block. Four expertly restored buildings stood side by side in the shadows of the Rockies. Were it not for the meters and one neon sign, she would have felt very much as if she was stepping back in time.

Once she exited her car, Savannah was careful not to go in the direction of the newest building on the block. Well, new was a bit of an exaggeration, she mused as cold, clean air filled her lungs. The sheriff’s office had been built around the turn of the century, so the brick and barred-window building lacked the Victorian charm of the other homes-turned-businesses. She’d avoided him for two weeks, and she was content to keep it that way.

The moment she entered the shop, she was assailed with the strong aroma of homemade candles and heavily scented sachets. A bell tolled when she closed the door. “Olive?” she called out as she took off her heavy coat and hung it on the coatrack—which, like everything else in the shop, was for sale.

“Be down in a little bit! Junior and I are having a late lunch,” Olive called from the second story.

Olive’s Attic was exactly as the name implied. It was a cramped space filled with everything from locally dug arrowheads to tailored vintage clothing. And Savannah knew clothing.

She went over to one of the forms to examine a dress Olive had added to the inventory. Savannah read the designer tag from the twenties sewn into the garment, then read the ridiculously low price and knew her paycheck for the week was shot.

For Savannah, Olive’s was like a small treasure trove. People from Jasper and the surrounding communities brought things to Olive on consignment, usually after a death in the family. Savannah smiled, thinking to herself that instead of calling Montana Big Sky Country, they should call it the Land of the Mothballs. It seemed as if no one ever threw out anything. They just left things in mothballs until ritualistically surrendering them to Olive for sale.

If Savannah had had the money to buy all the clothing in the store, she could run back to the Lower East Side with it and make a fortune.

If.

That word sent her into a temporary funk. Returning to her other life wasn’t an option. Not if she wanted to stay alive.

Savannah was in the process of stripping the dress form when the bell tolled. She turned, smiling.

Smiling back at her was Sheriff Landry. Lord, she hated the way her pulse increased whenever she set eyes on the man! He walked toward her in a slow, easy swagger that conveyed confidence. His dark eyes were expressionless, but it didn’t matter. His smile alone was gift enough.

“Is that for another date?” Seth asked, indicating the hand-beaded dress draped over her arm.

She met his gaze and ignored the allure of his cologne. “Maybe.”

“Then I’ll alert the coroner.”

She gave him a smart-ass smile. “You do that.”

Seth’s demeanor remained annoyingly casual. “We need to talk.”

“I’m working,” she said, then began to tidy up a tray of assorted buttons.

“I’m sure Olive won’t mind.”

“Won’t mind what?” Olive said as she carefully descended the stairs. Today she was limping on her right leg and leaning on her son for support.

Yesterday, Savannah would have sworn it was the other leg. But she’d grown used to Olive’s many ailments. She was basically a sweet woman, she just seemed to thrive on whatever happened to be her pain du jour. Olive spent almost as much time in the doctor’s office as she did at the shop.

Seth tipped his hat to Olive and greeted Junior warmly. As far as Savannah knew, Seth was the only other person in town who was kind to Junior. “I need to speak to Savannah for a little while. Is that all right with you, Miss Olive?”

Olive patted the perfect bluish-white chignon at the nape of her neck, still leaning on her son for support. “I feel a spout of the gout coming on,” Olive replied. “I was just going to go over to see that brother of yours. You have no idea how painful the gout can be.” She squeezed her son’s hand. “You kids should enjoy yourselves when you’re young. Being old is such a trial.”

Seth went over and assisted Junior in guiding his mother onto the rocker near the register. “How about if I get Chance to come to you?” he suggested. “That way you’ll be spared the discomfort of walking down to his office.”

Olive’s green eyes brightened. Savannah wasn’t sure whether it was from the attention she was getting from both men, or if she just relished the idea of a house call.

“May I use the phone?” Seth asked, his tone full of real or imagined sympathy.

“Yes. I’m in such pain, you know. The sooner he can get here the better.”

“Then I can take Savannah with me?”

“What for?” Junior asked, meekly.

Seth slapped him reassuringly on the back. “Just a few questions and loose ends. Nothing earth-shattering.”

Olive began to fan her face. “Seth Landry, don’t you dare accuse poor Savannah of killing those men. You ought to be out looking for one of those predator killers I’ve seen on the TV.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Seth replied. “Give me a minute to call Chance.”

While Seth was on the phone, Junior ventured in Savannah’s direction. “You don’t have to go with him,” he half whispered. Junior was a very smart man in spite of his submissive personality. Savannah knew better than to insult his intelligence.

“He’s harmless,” Savannah insisted. “I’ve got nothing to be worried about. I didn’t do anything.”

“I know,” Junior said with unusual force. “But when you’re alone with him, you don’t know what will happen. If you get into a jam, call me and I’ll send a lawyer right over to the sheriff’s office for you, okay?”

Savannah nodded and gave his forearm a gentle squeeze as she smiled up at her friend. “It will probably take less than a half hour,” she promised him. “Can you take time away from your accounting work to help your mom?”