Bridget handed him a plate, considering. “Or dates? Maybe reference numbers?”
He nodded, intrigued. “All good options. What’s our next move to figure it out?”
“Make a list of possibilities,” Bridget suggested. “We check them off, see if they tie to that old narcotics case.”
A grin broke across Kevin’s face. “That’s brilliant. Start with the most obvious, work our way down.”
Bridget felt a surge of excitement. It felt good to be useful, to be part of something.
When the dishes were done, Kevin tossed the towel aside. “You know,” he said, his voice quieter, “I appreciate the help. It’s… nice having someone to work this through with.”
Bridget’s smile softened. “Glad to help. And it’s good to feel… like I’m doing something real.”
For a moment, it seemed like he might say more. But he cleared his throat, turning to grab a notebook from the counter. “So, let’s get started on that list.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jo spotted Sam and Mick as soon as she walked into Holy Spirits. They’d claimed their usual spots at the bar. Jo slid onto the stool beside Sam, who’d already ordered her a Coors Light. The place felt like a sanctuary, even with the low buzz of Friday night chatter around them.
“Hey, Harris,” Mick greeted her, tipping his whiskey glass in her direction. “You’re looking suspiciously well rested.”
“Not having to work for an ogre does wonders,” she shot back, giving Sam a grin. “But you look like you’ve seen better days.”
Sam smirked, though his gaze held the weight of all they’d been dealing with. “Maybe I should try getting suspended. How’s it working for you?”
“Only means I’m working for free now,” she replied, taking a pull of her beer. “Met with Clara Hartwell today, the town surveyor. She mentioned something that could be a lead.” She let the words hang, drawing both men’s attention. “Garvin’s son came by the surveyor’s office last week asking about the River Road property too.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up, and he set his glass down. “Did he now? Funny he didn’t mention that to me. When I talked to Derek, he barely acted like he cared his father was looking into that land.”
Jo’s jaw tightened as she thought it over. “Seems like the son has a knack for leaving out details.”
Sam took a slow sip of his drink. “Why would Derek go snooping around with a surveyor?”
Mick chimed in. “Kid’s got money problems. I did some research. Got turned down for some loans.”
Jo leaned in, lowering her voice. “The elk bronze. Garvin thought it was valuable—real valuable. Maybe Derek thought so too. If they argued, Derek could’ve tried to take it. If he needed money right away, he might not have wanted to wait for an inheritance.”
Sam’s gaze sharpened. “Or maybe he tried to hasten that along. But why look into the land?”
Jo thought back to her meeting with Clara. “Maybe he was trying to figure out the property’s true value. If he thought Garvin was planning to sell, he’d want to know what it was worth. He wouldn’t have known about the will change yet, so he was probably angling for inheritance. More property value, more to gain.”
Mick gave a low whistle. “So, Garvin’s looking into Convale, trying to figure out if he could get a better price on his land? His son starts sniffing around, trying to learn the same. It all sounds too close.”
“More than close,” Sam agreed.
Jo could feel the pieces shifting, each one clicking into place. “So Garvin’s making inquiries—quietly, but he’s doing his research. And if Convale caught wind of it? Could be they wanted him gone because they want that property.”
Mick’s mouth tightened as he set down his glass. “Or maybe they don’t want someone to find out something about the property.”
Jo’s gaze drifted to the rows of bottles behind the bar, the colored light casting them in rich reds and blues. “But what? And if Derek is the killer, how did he get my hair to plant at the scene?”
The three of them sat in silence for a moment, the noise of the bar fading into the background. Jo took a long pull of her beer, letting the chill bite in her throat sharpen her focus.
“So,” Mick said, swirling his whiskey thoughtfully, “what’s the next move?”
Jo leaned back on her stool, crossing her arms. “We keep pulling the threads. Garvin’s son was in town last week but didn’t tell anyone, and now, his dad ends up dead. Seems like we need to talk to him.”
Sam nodded. “Funeral’s day after tomorrow. I’ll leave him be until after that.”