Free Whispers of Murder by Cheryl Bradshaw Page A

them, he turned to her and extended his hand.  “Why don’t you have a seat?”
    She did. 
    “I know about the other woman,” she said.  “Marsha.  Don’t you think it’s a coincidence that the necklace had the same initial?”
    He sat down across from her, grabbed a pencil from a rubber cup and tapped it along the edge of the desk.  “Did you tell anyone that you had it?”
    “Only one person.”
    “Who?”
    “A girl I met.”
    “What girl?”
    “Tara.  We met at the coffee shop this past week.”
    “And have you seen her since?”
    She shrugged.  “A couple times.”
    “Does she live here?”
    “She said her parents do.”
    He bounced back in his chair.  “Huh—well, I know everyone in this town—what’s the last name?”  
    “Sidwell.”
    He affirmed the name Sidwell out loud to the open air a few times and then drummed some words into the keyboard of his computer.  When he was done, he lifted his pointer finger and punched down on the enter key. 
    “Strange, no Sidwell,” he said.  
    Isabelle leaned forward.  “When I was at the hospital a couple days ago, she was there.  She said her mom had a heart attack and she was in surgery.”
    “Interesting.”  He pushed a black button on the corner of his phone and lowered his head until it was right over it.  “Sally, get St. Helena on the line.” 
    Seconds later his phone buzzed to life.  He picked it up.  “Who’s this?”  Then silence.  “Rhonda, this is Sheriff Terrington.  I need to know if you admitted anyone in the past week with the last name of Sidwell?  Another pause. “What’s that?”  Isabelle heard some words come through the phone that were too muffled for her to make out.  The sheriff wiped his brow with his hand and said, “I don’t care about that, just do it, okay?   Call me back.”
    He set the phone on the receiver and glanced at Isabelle.  “I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to you since you were arrested.”
    “You know I didn’t do it, right?”
    “Never thought you did.  You’re not the type.”
    “To murder someone?”
    He nodded.  “Now, your sister on the other hand—let’s just say if I was alone in the wilderness with her and she got mad, I’d be worried.”
    They both laughed. 
    “If you believed I was innocent, why’d you arrest me?”
    He leaned forward over his hands and rested his elbows on the edge of the desk.  “Did you ever consider I was trying to protect you?”
    “By locking me in a jail cell?”
    “I’m sure Roland thinks he’s still tough enough to protect you, and maybe he is, but my plan was to keep a close eye on you while we learned more about the guy you married.  I was just going to get you here and then give you the run of the place, but Roland saw to it that you were released right away.  That’s why I put my deputy at your house.  I’m still waiting on the back-up I requested.”
    The phone rang.  He answered it, said uh-huh a few times and hung it up again.
    “Well?” Isabelle said.
    “There was never anyone admitted under the name of Sidwell.  I don’t know who this new friend of yours is, but until I find out, I suggest you stay away from her.” 

CHAPTER 21
     
    T he moon shrouded the valley with incandescent light that glowed down the pathway in front of Isabelle’s car like a chaperone guiding her home.  When she arrived, the porch light was on, but the house lights were off.  Officer Davis was nowhere in sight.  Isabelle entered and called out, “Dad?” but her voice echoed through a hushed room.  She flipped on the light in the kitchen and discovered a note under a magnet on the white board:
    SORRY ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED TODAY.
    GONE TO YOUR SISTER’S FOR DINNER.
    MAYBE WE CAN TALK WHEN I GET HOME.
    LOVE YOU, DAD
    She’d hoped he’d be home when she got there so they could talk things out.  Over the course of the day she hadn’t made a decision about whether to take on Roland’s position when he retired,