Scene of the Crime: Killer Cove. Carla Cassidy

was also a woman who didn’t lie.” He raised his chin, obviously proud of his mother. “When Trey Walker asked her if she would know if I left the house that night after she went to bed, she confessed that she probably wouldn’t have known.”

      “And there was nobody you saw or talked to who could confirm that you were in bed sick?”

      Bo shook his head. “I went to bed a little after five. I made two calls before I crashed out, one to Freddie Hannity, who managed the bar at Bo’s Place, to tell him I wouldn’t be in that night and to take care of things for me. The other was a text to Shelly telling her I was sick and wouldn’t meet her that night.”

      He paused a long moment, his eyes no longer dark blue but rather black and unfathomable. “You know Shelly was the night manager at the Pirate’s Inn and night was my busiest time at Bo’s Place. She started her shift at midnight so every night around eleven I’d sneak out of the bar and we’d meet at the bench down by the lagoon.”

      Once again he stopped talking and stared outside the front window, as if reliving each and every moment of that fateful night.

      Claire had known that going back in time to the night of Shelly’s death would be difficult for him, but she hadn’t expected the rawness of his emotions. Even though Shelly had been gone for two years, it was obvious that love for her, that grief for her, still filled his heart.

      Without giving it any thought, she reached out and covered his hand with hers. He blinked twice and then directed his attention to her hand. He turned his over and grasped her.

      “Sorry, I got lost in my head.” He gently extricated his hand from hers. “Anyway, the next thing I knew it was five in the morning and Sheriff Walker and Deputy Ray McClure were pounding on the front door.

      “They told me Shelly had been killed around midnight and I needed to come into the station and answer some questions. I knew the minute I saw the way they looked at me that they believed I was responsible. I scarcely had time to grieve before I was vehemently defending my innocence.”

      “What did they tell you about the actual crime scene? I know Shelly was found in the lagoon, but she wasn’t killed in the water.” Claire picked up her pen, knowing that from this point forward the conversation would contain things she wanted written down. She didn’t even want to think about how warm, how right it had felt to momentarily hold his hand.

      He sat up straighter in his chair, his eyes once again focused. “The sheriff believed the actual strangulation occurred in the bushes around the bench and then she was put in the water, probably in hopes she wouldn’t be found until morning or maybe forever. The bushes were trampled as if a struggle had happened, and they found her necklace tangled up in some of the brush. Her engagement ring was missing and has never been found. A couple of teenagers had gone to the swamp to gig for frogs. They’re the ones who found her just after two.”

      “Why would Shelly have gone down there knowing that you weren’t coming?” Claire asked. “Are you sure she got your text?”

      “Positive. She texted me back that she’d see me the next day. As far as why she went to the lagoon that night, I have no idea. That question has haunted me for two years. I keep thinking that if I hadn’t been sick that night...if I’d shown up as usual...” He allowed his voice to drift off.

      “You can’t blame yourself for this,” Claire protested.

      He raised a dark brow. “But apparently a whole town could blame me.”

      “That’s because a real investigation was never done, and that’s why we’re doing this now,” Claire replied. “I’m assuming your phone records were checked. How did Trey explain the fact that the texts were the last communications you two had that night?”

      “He figured I’d found Shelly somewhere in town and didn’t need to use any other form of communication.”

      “Did Shelly mention to you anyone who was giving her trouble? Anyone she’d made angry?”

      “No, she didn’t mention anything like that to me. Shelly wasn’t the type to make enemies.”

      “Maybe it was something she didn’t feel comfortable talking to you about. Maybe she’d have been more apt to confide in a girlfriend. Names, I need names of the people Shelly was closest to other than you,” she said.

      “Definitely Savannah.”

      Claire knew Savannah was Shelly’s sister. She was a year younger than Shelly and the two had appeared very close. She wrote down Savannah’s name on the legal pad. “You know she’s now working the night shift at the Pirate’s Inn. Who else can you remember?”

      “Shelly was friendly with Julie Melbourne. I know they often had dinner together at Bo’s Place while I was on duty. She also ran around with Valerie Frank and Sally Bernard. I think that’s about it as far as her closest friends.”

      “Talking with Sally and Julie shouldn’t be a problem. They’re both teachers and I’m friendly with both of them. Valerie works the dinner shift at the diner. We can catch up with her there.”

      Bo scowled. “None of those women will want to talk to me.”

      Claire offered him a bright smile. “And that’s why you have me. You’ll be with me, but I’ll do the talking.” She looked outside where dusk had begun to fall. “We’ll start first thing in the morning and try to get Sally and Julie interviewed. Then we’ll catch up with Valerie and Savannah later in the evening.”

      He tilted his head and gazed at her curiously. “Do you really believe anything will come of all this?”

      “All I know is that nothing will come of this if we don’t try. I believe in your innocence, Bo, and I hate the fact that somebody got away with murder while you have carried this burden for so long. As far as I’m concerned you have two choices—stay here and work the case to prove your innocence or climb back on that hog of yours and leave town with that same burden weighing you down for the rest of your life.”

      He picked up his glass and peered inside it. “You didn’t drug my drink, did you? Because when I listen to you, when I look into your eyes, I feel hope and I have to admit that scares the hell out of me.”

      “Embrace your hope, Bo.” She desperately wanted to grab his hand again, to feel the warmth of his big grasp around her much smaller hand, but she knew it wasn’t her place.

      She was his partner in crime-solving, one of few people who believed he had nothing do with Shelly’s death. She wasn’t his girlfriend. She had a feeling Shelly still occupied that space in his heart, that she might always be there, allowing nobody else in for love.

      For the next hour or so they talked about the elements of the crime, and Claire took copious notes that she would later transcribe into neat colored tabs of material in the larger notebook.

      It was just after seven when Claire popped a frozen pizza into the oven, and once it was finished baking they continued their conversation while they ate.

      They moved on from discussing the crime and Shelly to Bo’s life in Jackson. “Bo’s Place is small compared to what I had here,” he said as he reached for a second piece of the pepperoni pie. “I don’t socialize with the customers like I did here in Lost Lagoon. I keep pretty much to myself. I don’t want people getting too close. It’s easier that way...safer.”

      And it was the saddest thing Claire had ever heard. Before the murder Bo had been gregarious and bigger than life. He’d made Bo’s Place popular by his mere presence.

      “And lonelier,” she said softly.

      Bo shrugged. “There are things worse than being lonely.” He gazed at her curiously. “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

      “You mean other than my secret admirer?” she asked drily and then continued, “I dated Neil Sampson for about two months and then broke up with him six months ago. He’s a city councilman and a nice guy, but there weren’t