I can to make you comfortable for your entire stay. Whatever you want is on the house.” Liz’s suitcase landed beside Caitlin’s bag with a bounce, then Bradley extracted a small card from his breast pocket. “Just show this and you’ll be taken care of anywhere in the hotel. The restaurant. The business center. There’s a nice lounge in the west corner of the lobby if you’d care for a cocktail before dinner.”
Jazzy took the card, but shook her head with a smile. “Thanks, but we don’t drink.”
“Oh.” He seemed momentarily nonplussed. Then his face cleared. “They make a mean Shirley Temple down there.”
She laughed. “Please tell Mr. Harris we appreciate everything.”
He hefted the last suitcase onto the bed. “Call me if you need anything.” His glance slid to the door. “And don’t let Buford Pusser in there rattle you.”
Working hard to hide her smile, Jazzy joined the others as Bradley let himself out. A glance at Sheriff Maguire’s stern face chased away all remnants of the smile.
“Shall we sit down?” The sheriff pulled a padded swivel chair out from the table.
Jazzy slid into the one across from him, Liz and Caitlin taking the other two. Sheriff Maguire leaned against the seat back and folded his arms across his chest.
“Tell me what happened. All of it. From the beginning.”
Irritation twitched Jazzy’s frazzled nerves. She’d told this story four times to the deputies, and then had written out a statement and signed it. Did they think she was lying? Maybe they were trying to trip her up.
Any protest she might have made faded before the piercing gaze leveled across the table at her. She rubbed sweaty palms on her jeans, then stopped when the sheriff’s eyes lowered to watch her hands through the glass tabletop.
For the fifth time that day, Jazzy recounted how Derrick had sent an e-mail three months ago saying he’d seen in her online profile that she played violin in a classical ensemble. She described their brief e-mail discussion establishing the terms of the job for his sister’s wedding. As she did, she realized that Sheriff Maguire probably knew all about that part, since his son was the groom. Then she outlined every detail she could remember from the time they pulled up to the front doors of the Executive Inn until she opened the shower curtain.
At least Sheriff Maguire listened without interrupting. Those two deputies hadn’t let her get a sentence out without a question or two. When she finished, he sat watching her in silence, tapping his pursed lips with an index finger. Jazzy shifted her position on the cushioned seat. The man’s stare put her in mind of spotlights and rubber hoses.
Caitlin cleared her throat, drawing his attention away from Jazzy. “Do you have any idea why someone might have killed that poor man?”
Liz interrupted before he could answer. “What she really wants to know is if you think we’re in any danger since we’re taking his place as judges in this festival thing.”
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