Blood Rubies by Jane K. Cleland Page A

are you surprised?”
    â€œIt seems like a stretch. Just because a man is jealous of Ana and temperamental … why would he kill Jason?”
    â€œAccording to my police source, Maurice has made threats openly, things like if Ana thinks she can breeze into Rocky Point and take over his business, she’d better watch her back.”
    â€œWow. That’s not good. Or smart. But what does that have to do with Jason?”
    â€œThe police think maybe he went to her house to confront her or something and ran into Jason instead.”
    â€œDo we know if he has an alibi?”
    â€œNot yet. I’m checking alibis for everyone.” He paused for a moment. “How about opportunity? Who had access to Ana’s house key?”
    â€œEveryone. Anyone. Ana was quick to tell people where she hid it.”
    â€œSo Jason uses Ana’s spare key, replacing it after he opens the door. When the killer shows up, either Jason lets him in or the killer gets the key from the rock.” Wes’s eyes opened wide. “If that’s what happened, the murderer put the key back after killing Jason. What kind of person would have the wherewithal to do that?”
    â€œSomeone who’s good in a crunch. Someone who thinks straight in a crisis.”
    â€œThen that’s the kind of person we’re looking for.” He glanced at his notes. “So that takes care of opportunity. We know means. That leaves motive.”
    â€œWait a sec. Back to means. Jason was a big guy. Either the killer is bigger than he was, or he was caught unawares, or he was struck by something first, then pounded against the stones, or he fell, like Ana assumed, then was pounded against the stones.”
    â€œGood point,” Wes said. “What else?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œWhat about motive?”
    â€œRevenge, lust, greed, right? The big three.”
    Wes flipped his notebook closed and gave me a fierce look. “Get me photos.”
    â€œIf I can,” I said, starting down the dune, “I will.” When I reached the bottom, I scraped clumps of sand off the soles of my boots, shielded my eyes from the sun with the flat of my hand, and looked up at him. “You look fab, Wes. For real. It’s great news about you and Maggie.”
    He smiled like he meant it. “Thanks.”
    Ellis texted as I was driving to work. I pulled off to the side of the road to read it. “Call. Urgent.” I punched in the numbers for his cell phone.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” I asked when I had him.
    â€œNothing, why?”
    I exhaled.
    â€œCall me crazy, but when a police chief tells me to contact him immediately, I get, you know, a little anxious.”
    â€œSounds like a guilty conscience to me. Are you withholding information relevant to the investigation?”
    â€œNo! And I don’t have a guilty conscience.”
    â€œGood. Can I drop off the material the techs recovered at the crime scene? They’re done—they found nothing useful. The only pieces big enough to take fingerprints don’t have any. There’s nothing significant forensically, except that they know the debris landed on Jason, not under him. You’re our last hope.”
    â€œIs that why you texted?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI’ll do my best.”
    â€œI’ll be at your office in half an hour.”
    I felt a familiar rush of excitement. Starting an appraisal, even of broken pieces, represented the beginning of what might turn into an epic quest. “Hot diggity!”
    â€œHot diggity?”
    â€œDon’t you know that term? It’s an official phrase in the antiques business. It means yippee.”
    He chuckled. “I’ll see you in a few, Josie.”
    I pushed the END CALL button. “Hot diggity,” I said aloud.

 
    CHAPTER EIGHT
    Cara was on the phone giving someone directions to the tag sale. Gretchen was on the phone with Rocky Point Interiors getting