Bombshell by Catherine Coulter

Sheriff Noble. I met your wife, Ruth, today as well. You’re kind of local heroes.”
    Dix waved that off. “Griffin said you remembered what you saw in your bathtub?”
    “Yes, it was a dead man. I lost it and screamed my head off. Then something hard hit my head.”
    “Did you see who hit you?”
    “No, I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t remember. Sorry.”
    “Are you quite sure the man in the bathtub was dead?”
    Delsey shuddered. “Oh, yes, his eyes were staring straight up, and there was blood all over his chest.”
    “Had you ever seen him before?”
    “Yes, but I don’t know who he was. I saw him around town during the past week or so. Once on the Stanislaus campus, maybe three or four more times here in Maestro.”
    “Where?”
    “On the sidewalk once near the Holcombe Bank, and a couple of times at Maurie’s Diner, sitting in the back, where you’d walk past him to get to the restrooms. He always smiled at me and nodded; once he even asked me how I was doing and we chatted for a few minutes. He seemed like a nice man. No, he never came on to me, nothing like that, and we never really visited, if you know what I mean.”
    Griffin asked, “Did you see him speaking to anyone in particular?”
    “No, not really. He seemed quiet, like he was marking time, maybe waiting for someone, but he was always alone. He spoke to Anna, of course, since she was his waitress. I heard her laugh once, I guess at something he said to her.”
    Dix said, “Did you ever think he was ‘off’ somehow? Maybe paying too much attention to you, watching you?”
    Delsey shook her head. “I didn’t get any vibe like that. He never told me what his name was or why he was here, but I did wonder what he was doing on campus that time I saw him going into the administration building.”
    “We don’t have a police artist on staff,” Dix said, “but we do have Miss Mavis. She’ll do a sketch with you, and then we can show his photo around town, find out where he was staying, who he was and what he was doing here. It’s only logical, Ms. Freestone, that he has to be somehow connected to you, or else why would his body have been in your bathtub?”
    Delsey shook her head. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, I can’t think of any connection between us other than those few times I saw him. Maybe if you can tell me who he was I can make some sense of it.” Her breathing hitched. She again felt the punch of shock at seeing him lying there when she’d whipped back the shower curtain, and the terror that had screams ripping out of her throat. Griffin took her hand. “It’s okay, Delsey, now it’s okay.”
    “Why would he have broken into my apartment? Who would have killed him?”
    Dix wondered for a moment how he would have reacted had he been in her shoes.
    Delsey got herself together. “Like I told you, Anna had waited on him several times at Maurie’s Diner. Maybe she knows his name. She’s really friendly to everyone, plus she’s way more visual than I am, too. She’s done some drawing herself. She should be the one you do the sketch with.”
    Dix nodded and turned away to call his wife.
    After he slipped his cell back into his shirt, Dix looked from Agent Griffin Hammersmith to his sister. “You two really do look a lot alike, almost like twins.”
    “Nah,” Delsey said. “Griffin’s better-looking.”
    Griffin said, “Even if you’re right, it’s only because you’re still in your twenties. I’m hoping you’ll improve once you hit thirty.”
    Dix smiled, brought it back. “Does anyone else know you’ve remembered the dead man, Ms. Freestone?”
    “Dr. Hayman left before I remembered anything.”
    Griffin saw the shock and fear still mirrored in her eyes. He took her hand again. “Why don’t you tell the sheriff why you’re Freestone and not Hammersmith?”
    Dix said, “Yeah, I was wondering that.”
    Hadn’t she already told someone about why she had a different last name? She couldn’t remember.