need to have a little talk with the DA and judge. See about getting the charges dropped against Danielle.”
“I wonder if that will be possible,” Brian murmured.
“What do you mean? I saw her. If he was killed during that timeframe then she’s innocent.”
“And considering your history with Danielle, you don’t think the DA or judge might question your motives for coming forward?”
“Are you suggesting I’m not telling the truth?” Joe asked angrily.
“Of course not,” Brian insisted. “But if I was the DA and the victim claimed to know the killer—and then the ex-boyfriend of the killer came forward with a story—”
“I was never Danielle’s boyfriend. We only went out a couple times.”
“No, but we all know you wanted to be,” Brian retorted.
“And we all know the reason Danielle is no longer interested—I helped arrest her for Cheryl’s murder.”
“And what a perfect way to ingratiate yourself to her. Be the star witness to exonerate her in what appears to be a slam dunk case,” Brian said.
“Enough!” the chief interrupted. “If Joe had come into this office yesterday morning, before we filed charges on Danielle, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Brian, I can’t believe you’d doubt Joe’s word.”
“I never said I doubted him.”
“It didn’t sound like that to me,” Joe grumbled.
“I was just playing the devil’s advocate,” Brian insisted.
“One thing I am fairly confident about,” the chief said. “Danielle Boatman is innocent, and someone is trying to frame her for Stoddard’s murder. Whoever did this went to a lot of trouble to implicate Danielle. Darlene is looking like a prime suspect.”
“She seemed sincerely upset at Stoddard’s death,” Brian said. “And you don’t think Stoddard would recognize his own wife?”
“I would suspect she had an accomplice,” the chief said.
“Why do you think she’s involved at all?” Joe asked.
“For one reason, she’s the one who brought Brian to the house when she found her husband,” the chief said.
“But how would she have known…” Joe paused a moment considering his question. He turned to Brian and said, “That’s right. You said you were having breakfast at the diner—which you do every morning. Darlene knew right where to find you.”
Chapter Eight
E arthbound Spirits headquarters were perched high atop a rocky ridge, overlooking a section of Frederickport’s northern beach. The Hilton family—no relation to the hotel chain—built the house in 1935. The property remained in the family until the passing of Helen Hilton, who died at the age of 98. She bequeathed her entire estate to Earthbound Spirits, much to the displeasure of her four grandchildren.
Even Helen’s great-nieces and nephews took umbrage over the bequest, arguing Helen was only a Hilton by virtue of marriage to her late husband, and the property should remain within the Hilton family.
Had Helen been around to argue her decision, she would remind her unhappy family that since none of them made an effort to visit her during her final years, none of them was entitled to the property. The grandchildren contested the will, but their attorneys were no match for the legal team employed by the secretive and wealthy organization.
Peter Morris, founder of Earthbound Spirits, sat at his desk, examining the two documents just handed to him by his protégé, Cleve Monchique. The two men sat alone in the office, the doors shut.
Morris, who had recently turned sixty, looked more like a man in his late forties. Standing just under six-feet, with a tennis player’s physique, his regular manner of dress reflected what a wealthy and cultured CEO might wear at the golf course. He concealed his gray hair under Nice’n Easy’s Natural Black—though Natural Light Carmel Brown would have been a more flattering shade for his complexion.
“You got both wills…” Peter murmured. “Impressive.”
“It answers the
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