Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle

“Forget I asked.”

“Take the turnoff up there on the left. You can see a glimpse of Brandon’s house from here.”

Jim nodded, took her directions and within a couple minutes pulled his old Chevy truck to a halt in the driveway beside the house.

“Robyn broke things off,” Bernie said. “My sister’s never been dumped in her entire life.”

Jim grunted.

“Well, let’s get this over with.” Bernie opened her door and got out, not waiting for Jim to assist her. He could save his gentlemanly manners for her sister. All she wanted from him was his respect.

Yeah, sure, that’s all you want. You can lie to the wholefreaking world, Bernadette Granger, but you shouldn’t lie toyourself.

Jim got in step with her quickly as they approached the wide, sprawling porch that circled three fourths of the house and faced the river. Before they reached the front door, the porch lights came on and the door opened to reveal Brandon standing there waiting for them. Bernie had telephoned half an hour ago and explained that they had a few questions for him about his relationship with Stephanie Preston, and he’d invited them to come to his house this evening. He’d acted charming and cooperative, as if he had nothing to hide.

Maybe he didn’t. She’d know after they talked to him. She’d always had a sixth sense about these things, had always been good at figuring out when somebody was lying to her. That sixth sense had been what alerted her to the fact that her husband had been cheating on her. The only problem was she had chosen to ignore that inner voice for years. And dear God, how she had lived to regret not listening. She had never made that mistake again.

“Come on in,” Brandon said. “Or would y’all prefer to sit out here on the porch? It’s turning out to be a fairly pleasant night, but I’m afraid we’ll get rain before morning.”

“Out here will be fine,” Bernie said.

“Would y’all care for something to drink? I just made a pitcher of iced tea.”

“No, thanks,” Jim said.

“Nothing for me either,” Bernie added.

“Well, then, come on over and sit down.” He indicated the rattan settee and chairs to his right. “I don’t know what I can tell you about Stephanie, poor little thing, but if there’s anything I can do to help y’all find the person who killed her, I’ll be more than happy to.”

“We appreciate your cooperation,” Bernie told him as she sat in one of the chairs, while Jim took the other.

Brandon sat on the settee, crossed his legs and leaned back, looking perfectly at ease as he glanced from Bernie to Jim.

“We were told that you and Stephanie were involved at one time,” Jim said. “Is that correct?”

Brandon smiled and Bernie thought how very attractive he was, very smooth and debonair, almost too sophisticated for a rural area like Adams County, Alabama.

“We had a brief—very brief—fling.” Brandon accentuated his speech with hand mannerisms. “She was a pretty little thing and deliciously eager. But I soon realized that she was taking things a little too seriously, so I ended our relationship quickly.”

“Do you make a habit of dating your students?” Jim narrowed his gaze, giving Brandon what Bernie thought of as “the evil eye.”

Brandon laughed. “I make a habit of dating beautiful young women. Some are students, a few are colleagues”—he looked pointedly at Bernie—“and some are gorgeous fitness instructors with fabulously toned bodies.”

The guy was a sleaze. He might be handsome, cultured, well educated and talented, but he was a sleaze nonetheless. If there was one thing Bernie hated, it was men who bragged about their conquests.

“Did you ever sketch Stephanie?” Bernie asked.

“What?”

“Did you ever—”

“No, I never sketched her. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Bernie told him. “You’re an artist. She was, as you say, a beautiful young woman. I just thought maybe you liked to sketch or paint your lovers.”

“Have you ever sketched or painted any of your lovers?” Jim asked.

“Yes,” Brandon replied. “But not Stephanie. As I told you, our relationship was short-lived.”

“Were you teaching a class the night Stephanie came up missing?” Jim studied Brandon. Bernie guessed that he, too, had a knack for sensing when someone was lying.

“I don’t teach night classes,” Brandon replied with an air of superiority.

“Then where were you the night Stephanie disappeared?” Jim asked.

“And where were you the day she was killed?” Bernie kept her gaze on Brandon’s face, searching for any sign that might tell her if he was lying.

“You can’t seriously believe that I had anything to do with Stephanie’s disappearance and murder, can you?” An outraged expression marred Brandon’s classically handsome features.

Bernie told him the dates and approximate times of the disappearance and the murder and watched him as he thought about the information. He didn’t appear to be the least bit nervous. Either he was completely innocent or he had simply perfected the art of being “cool.”

“I was here, at home, the night Stephanie disappeared.” He held up a restraining hand. “And before you ask—yes, I have someone who can corroborate that fact. Her name is Holly Burcham. Deputy Holly Burcham.”

Bernie clamped her teeth together tightly, then swallowed hard. Why was she not surprised to discover that one of her few female deputies was banging Brandon Kelley? Could it possibly be because ever since they were high school cheerleaders together, Holly had considered Robyn her rival. Whatever Robyn had, Holly wanted.

“What time did Holly arrive and what time did she leave?” Bernie glared at Brandon, doing her best to disguise the disgust she felt. And yes, the fact that his lack of morals reminded her of her ex did affect her opinion of the man.

“She got here around seven and stayed all night. We went to bed early, but didn’t go to sleep until around midnight.” Brandon clicked his tongue and winked at Bernie.

Sleaze. Irritating, arrogant sleaze. Bernie groaned internally, longing to reach out and slap that silly, honey-I’m-so-good-in-bed smile off his face.

“What about the day Stephanie was killed?” Jim asked totally deadpan, without any expression whatsoever, not on his face or in his voice.

“I was at the college all day. My first class was at eight and my last one ended at five. And no, I did not leave the campus and there should be dozens of witnesses to that fact.” Brandon twined his fingers together and leisurely rested one elbow against the settee arm as he leaned his body comfortably in that direction.

“If everything you’ve told us checks out, you’re in the clear,” Jim said.

“Is that all?” Brandon asked.

Jim stood and looked down at Brandon. “Only one more question tonight: Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm Stephanie? Anyone who held a grudge against her, her husband or her family?”

Brandon shrugged. “No, sorry. I’m afraid I didn’t know much about Stephanie’s personal life. We weren’t friends. We were simply lovers for a couple of weeks and my interest in her didn’t go beyond a mutual sexual attraction.”

Bernie rose to her feet, forced herself to shake hands with Brandon and said, “Thank you for your cooperation.”

He held her hand a moment too long and said, “Tell Robyn I said hello.”

Bernie plastered a weak half smile on her lips, then turned and headed off the porch, wanting to get away from this guy as quickly as possible before she acted in an unprofessional manner.