Murder by Page One Olivia Matthews (best e ink reader for manga .txt) đ
- Author: Olivia Matthews
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Jo made an impatient sound. âI canât understand her not defending herself. Thereâs no way I wouldâve stayed silent. No way.â
âI agree with you, but we arenât Fiona.â I returned my attention to my friends. âCan we all agree that perhaps the motive wasnât money but love?â
âI can agree to that.â Spence drank more of his iced tea.
âSo can I,â Jo agreed. âDoes that leave only Betty with a motive?â
I turned the conversation back to the matter at hand. âWhat about Willy? He seems to care a great deal about Fiona.â
Joâs expression was dubious. âI donât know. Would someone really drive all the way to Peach Coast just to kill someone out of unrequited love?â
âThat does seem farfetched.â Spence also seemed skeptical. âAnd we confirmed he didnât check into the inn until after the police took everyoneâs statement.â
Distracted, I wrapped my hand around my book pendant. Iâd recreated the original 1994 cover of Night Song, a historical romance by Beverly Jenkins.
Jo slumped back on her chair. âWe may not have a motive for anyone anymore.â
I needed chocolate. âIf we donât come up with a motive for Willy soon, weâre going to lose our window of opportunity. Heâs leaving Peach Coast tomorrow.â
âFiona Lyle was the best thing to ever happen to Buddy Hayes. Itâs a shame that blockhead didnât appreciate her as he shouldâve.â Grant Gillis was a plain-spoken person. Someone shouldâve warned me.
A co-founding partner of Gillis & Sweets LLC, Grant had agreed to stay after normal business hours to meet with Spence and me Monday evening. Spence had driven, which was fortunate. First because I didnât have my car since Iâd walked to work, and second, if Iâd driven, we may have ended up in Florida.
Grant had told us in advanceâand repeatedlyâthat he wouldnât divulge privileged information pertaining to either Buddyâs or Fionaâs legal or business affairs jointly or separately. Legal speak for he wasnât going to gossip.
The seasoned lawyerâs firm stood in the heart of Peach Coast. It was housed in a renovated gray brick building I suspected had been a family home once upon a time not too long ago. Its interior showcased an abundance of dark wood trim, hardwood flooring, and closet space. Vivid area rugs splashed color across the main floor. The firmâs executive secretary-cum-receptionist had escorted Spence and me up a winding staircase and down a spacious hallway to the older gentlemanâs office. After dropping us off, sheâd wished Grant a good evening and had gone home.
I took a moment to recover from my surprise at Grantâs directness. âWhat makes you think Buddy didnât appreciate Fiona?â
Grant angled his head and shared an inquiring look between Spence and me. âYoung lady, are you married?â
I bit my tongue to keep from asking why my marital status was relevant to our conversation. âNo, sir, Iâm not.â
Grant gave Spence a pointed look before returning his attention to me. âMy wife and I have been married for more than thirty-seven years. Sheâs a saint. Yet I assure you we wouldnât have made it to our second wedding anniversary if Iâd had an ex-wife who said even half of the scurrilous things about my wife that Ms. Betty said of Ms. Fiona.â
I exchanged a look with Spence. It seems weâd found another Fiona supporter. I turned back to Grant. His executive chair was positioned in front of a large window that let in an abundance of natural light. It overlooked the front of the building, which made me think his office had once been someoneâs master bedroom. âWe understand you were Buddyâs lawyer. Did you also work with Fiona on her will?â
Grant arched a thick dark eyebrow. âYes, I did, young lady. But I will remind you that information falls under attorney-client privilege. I cannot divulge the details of any of my clientsâ last wills and testaments.â
I nodded. âOf course, we understand. Itâs just that Deputies Whatley and Cole seem overly focused on a friend of ours for Fionaâs murder, and weâre trying to help clear her name.â
Grant spread his hands. âIâll answer any question I can. I also want justice for Fiona. Buddy was a friend. Weâd known each other for years. I remember when Buddy told me he and Fiona were getting married, heâd bragged heâd âstolenâ Fiona from a much younger man.â
Spence sat straighter on his black leather visitorâs chair. âWe understand you canât give us any details about Buddyâs or Fionaâs wills but, in your personal opinion, how was Fionaâs relationship with Bobby?â
A thoughtful expression settled over Grantâs classically handsome features. His cream dress shirt, navy suit jacket, and matching tie suggested high-quality tailoring. âFiona and Bobby seemed to get on very well enough.â His words were measured as he rocked back on his chair. âThough they didnât spend much time together. Bobbyâs very loyal to his mama.â
âWell enoughâ for Fiona to name him in her will?
I searched my mind for a way to dig for more information without implying I wanted Grant to violate his clientsâ privacy. âYou sound as though Fiona was more than a client. You seemed to have known her personally as well.â
Grantâs smile was faint. âBuddy and Fiona, and my wife and I, did some socializing together. After Buddy died, my wife and I checked on Fiona a few times. She didnât have close friends or family in town. We wanted her to know she wasnât alone. We were here for her.â
I was impressed. âThatâs very kind of you.â
Grant spread his broad hands. âThatâs what friends do.â
I smiled at the familiar phrase.
Spenceâs eyebrows knitted. âYou said Fiona didnât have friends or family in town. Do you
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