Hidden Deception. Leann Harris

Knew all the members of the team. She was something of a baseball fanatic.”

      That piece of news could help. “Did she like college baseball?”

      “Can’t say. You might ask Diane or Susan and Jeff Marks over at Mama Rosa’s.”

      Daniel glanced at his partner, silently asking if he had any questions. Raul shook his head.

      Pulling out his business card, Daniel handed it to Preston. “If you think of anything else, call me.”

      Preston dropped the card onto his desk. “Sure.”

      The detectives started out of the store, but Raul stopped by a large painting of a lily on a branch. Daniel had to swallow his smile at his partner’s puzzled expression.

      “Are you interested in buying a good piece of art?” Preston flashed a smile at the detectives. “I have several up-and-coming local artists. You can buy them at a reasonable price before they become famous.”

      Raul’s eyes widened. “There’s a market for this stuff?”

      Jones bristled. “This is the Jean-Paul Jaunes painting I told you about earlier. He is the hottest upcoming painter on the art scene in the Southwest.”

      Daniel grinned. Raul was more into the bold colors of his conquistador ancestors.

      “Well, for that price, he better be number one.”

      The painting’s price was equal to two months of a detective’s salary.

      “It is an investment, Detective.”

      “Yeah, well, I’d rather put that kind of money in a good car,” Raul replied.

      Preston sniffed and walked away.

      “Apparently, you have no taste,” Daniel teased.

      “No, I just have common sense. I don’t plan on being robbed.” Raul nodded to the door.

      They walked down the street to Cam’s jewelry store, Three Star Creations, located on the south side of Past Treasures. The instant they walked into the store, Cam looked up from the customer he was helping. “I’ll be with you gentlemen in a moment,” he said, and went back to helping his customer. While Cam finished up, Daniel surveyed the store. Three Star Creations had a name in the city for its unique and inventive pieces.

      When the customer finished her purchase and left the store, the man turned to Raul. “What can I do for you?”

      Daniel stepped forward and introduced himself and the other detective. “You know about the murder of Joyce Murphy.”

      He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe what I saw when I came to work this morning. I’ve been sitting with Diane and Elena all morning.”

      “Can you tell me anyone who might want to hurt the victim?”

      “No one. Of course, I wasn’t close to Joyce. She kept to herself. Wasn’t very friendly.”

      “Did she ever mention anything about her past?” Daniel wondered if Joyce had told anyone about her time in prison.

      “Nothing.”

      “Is there any incident that you can think of where Joyce had a run-in with someone? Or maybe she mentioned someone who was angry with her.”

      “No.”

      “No boyfriends?”

      “She never mentioned anything to me, and I never saw anyone.”

      Daniel handed him his business card. “If you think of anything else, please give us a call.”

      He nodded.

      As they walked to the next store, Daniel muttered, “So far all we know is the woman was perfect.”

      “And that bothers me,” Raul answered.

      It was a red flag for Daniel, too.

      

      Daniel and Raul walked the length of the alley behind the shops on the square. Cars from the shop owners and their employees dotted the alley. Parked behind the back door of Past Treasures was a cleaning truck. Daniel walked up the three steps that led to the door. The top step broadened out to make a small landing.

      Carefully, he studied the back lock.

      “Do you think it was a random robbery?” Raul asked. He glanced up and down the alley.

      “Could be, but why not break into the jewelry store or the art gallery? Wouldn’t it be easier to fence jewels or one of the smaller paintings than some antique chest?”

      “Naw, you couldn’t give away that art, but you might be able to get rid of the jewelry.”

      Daniel studied the back door. “I don’t see any signs of the lock being forced.”

      Raul joined Daniel on the top step. “So a pro did this, not an amateur or some teenager high on something.”

      “Sounds right to me. Let’s check the statistics on robberies in the area, but I don’t think it was random. I think whoever broke in was after something in that shop.”

      The back door opened and a man stepped out with a steam cleaner. He looked up and stopped. “The store’s closed today.”

      “I was so sorry to hear about Joyce.” A woman’s voice floated out of the open back door.

      Daniel pulled out his ID and showed it to the man. He shrugged and walked to his truck.

      “Is there anything I can do for you?” the woman continued.

      “No, but thank you. There’s nothing at the moment.”

      Daniel recognized Elena’s voice.

      He knocked on the back door to announce their presence.

      Elena and her mother and another woman turned toward the sound.

      “Detective.” Diane Jackson moved forward. “Is something wrong? Do you need more information?” A hint of panic colored her voice.

      He smiled to ease her anxiety. “We’ve come to look at your shop in the light, to see maybe where the murderer might’ve come from.”

      All three women paled.

      Daniel turned to the woman he didn’t know and introduced himself. “And you are?”

      “Susan Marks. My husband and I own Mama Rosa’s on the corner of the square.”

      “Did you know Joyce?”

      “Yes, I did. She helped with the homeless shelter. We donated food to the facility, and she helped us take it over there and serve.”

      “How long has she been doing that?” Raul questioned.

      “The last year and a half.”

      “Have you noticed anything unusual about her in the last few weeks?”

      “No.” Susan glanced at her watch. “I need to get back for the dinner rush.”

      Daniel pulled out his business card and gave it to the woman.

      After she left by the back door, he turned to Elena and her mother. “I’d call a locksmith today and have that back lock switched out. Whoever broke in here didn’t have a difficult time. Make it harder for anyone if it happens a next time.”

      THREE

      Elena opened the door to Joyce’s house. The modest dwelling on the edge of a business district had originally belonged to Phillip Jackson, but he’d sold it to Joyce for the mighty sum of fifteen hundred dollars. That information her mother told her after her father’s funeral had amazed Elena, but as she thought about it, it made perfect sense. Her father was an exceptional man.

      Pausing inside the door, Elena let