Landry's Law. Kelsey Roberts

      “I’ll guess you hated it,” Savannah said.

      Bill nodded and then waved in the direction of the bar. To Savannah’s utter mortification, Junior was leaving. Actually, the mortification was because, apparently, Seth was staying. Nothing like having the sheriff as your babysitter on a date.

      “You’re nice to Junior,” Savannah opined with genuine admiration.

      “He had it rough,” Bill said. “He’s always had that lisp and those glasses. The kids were cruel to him growing up, which was exactly what he didn’t need. Especially after his dad died in a hunting accident when he was about thirteen.”

      Savannah remembered that there were no photographs of Olive’s husband around. Perhaps losing someone she loved suddenly had been so painful, Olive preferred not to display them. “Children can be nasty to one another.” She repressed her desire to recall some of the hateful things she and her siblings had said to one another over the years. All chances for her to apologize had ended six years ago.

      “Don’t look so depressed. Junior took most of it in stride and he always had Olive to rebuild his self-esteem.”

      “Still,” Savannah commented, “it must have hurt to have every kid in town ragging on him.”

      “Not every kid,” Bill corrected. “Seth made sure of that.”

      “Seth—as in Sheriff Seth?”

      Bill nodded, but his mood seemed to sour. “The same Seth who is sitting over there watching us.”

      It was Savannah’s turn to blush. “I think he thinks he’s doing his job.”

      Bill snorted dismissively. “I had a couple of reservations about this evening, but now that I’ve met you, I can’t believe for one minute that you’re some sort of serial killer.”

      “Thanks. You’re a minority, though.”

      “That’s why I left town as soon as I could. The gossip mongering in this town makes Peyton Place seem like the friendliest community on earth.”

      They both laughed. Then Savannah asked, “Were you ever the subject of gossip?”

      “Sure. When I was seventeen, the whole town knew I lost my virginity before I did.”

      Savannah laughed again. She was beginning to relax. Bill’s sense of humor was a wonderful salve on her frazzled nerves. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

      “A bit. But I got labeled as a—” he made quote signs with his fingers “—pillager of Jasper’s crop of young women.”

      “Seventeen is pretty young.”

      Bill made a noncommittal move with his shoulders. “I got lucky all of two times when I lived here. The pillagers were the sainted Landry brothers. But no one dared disparage a Landry. Not in Jasper.”

      Based on his sudden frown, she realized Bill wasn’t fond of their lookout. “I guess boys will be boys,” Savannah quipped, hoping to lighten the tone of the conversation.

      “They weren’t boys, they were a herd,” Bill countered with open hostility. “It wasn’t like you could have a beef with one of them. If you made one Landry mad, they all showed up to dole out some attitude adjustment.”

      “I’ve met Sam and his wife. They seem awfully nice.”

      Bill downed the remainder of his drink. “I don’t know why I’m complaining about them now. That was more than twenty years ago and they all seem to have settled down. At least, that’s what my mother used to claim in her letters.”

      “Enough about Landrys,” Savannah insisted. “Since there’s no jewelry shop in Jasper, I’ll assume you just stopped for the night for old times’ sake?”

      “For Angelica Seagal,” Bill countered with a wide grin.

      “Sorry, the name isn’t familiar.”

      “Angelica designs jewelry. I supply the gemstones.”

      “So you have to come all the way here from…speaking of which, where is your home base?”

      “Saint Paul. And if I didn’t come here to haggle with Angelica, she’d find a way to hunt me down.”

      “Why?”

      “Angelica and I go way back. She was my prom date, in fact.”

      “Seagal Signature Jewelry?” Savannah asked, suddenly putting the name together with the pricey jewelry sold in only the top jewelry stores. A Seagal Signature was the present-day equivalent of having a Louis Comfort Tiffany piece at the turn of the century.

      “The very one.”

      “I had no idea Jasper had a genuine celebrity.”

      “Angelica is an artist,” Bill said. “Which really only means she’s a bit on the weird side. She has some live-in assistant. His name is Vincent.”

      “Vincent what?” Savannah queried. “Maybe I’ve met him.”

      “Just Vincent,” Bill said with humor in his voice. “He looks a little bit like Lurch from The Addams Family, only with white hair.”

      “I think I’ve seen him walk past the shop to the post office. He is a tad on the creepy side,” she admitted with a wicked grin.

      “I believe Angelica thinks it’s terribly artsy to have Vincent around. If nothing else, he’s probably a good deterrent to anyone thinking of breaking into her studio.”

      “Where does she work?”

      “The old assay office at the end of Main Street. But I wouldn’t suggest visiting. Angelica is very private.”

      Savannah pushed away her nearly empty plate. “I wouldn’t dream of disturbing a genius at work. But I would love to see some of her work up close—not behind the glass of a store window.”

      Bill finished his plate, as well. “I can’t show you her work, but I can show you some sketches she sent me and the jewels I brought for them.”

      Savannah felt her eyes grow wide. “Really?”

      “Sure,” Bill said. “I’ve got them up in my room.”

      He must have registered her reaction to the notion of going to his room because he added, “I have no ulterior motive,” he promised. “Although, if you’re interested, I’m game,” he teased.

      “Sorry,” Savannah said on a breath. “I’ve really enjoyed having dinner with you, but it stops there, okay?”

      “No,” he said as he stood, pulled several bills from his pocket and took her hand. “It stops right after I show you Angelica’s sketches and the most incredible diamonds, rubies and emeralds anywhere on the face of God’s great earth.”

      Savannah pretended to ignore the look of censure from Seth as she followed Bill to the guest room elevators.

      Once they were inside the elevator compartment, Bill asked, “Am I poaching on Landry territory?”

      “Heavens, no!” she insisted. “Seth’s only interest in me is professional.”

      “The looks he’s been giving you all night look more personal to me.”

      “He was probably just hoping I’d whip out a .22 and shoot you at the table so he could close his investigation.”

      “He’ll figure out who did the other murders,” Bill assured her as he guided her inside his suite. “Seth can be a pain, but he’s pretty good at his job.”

      Savannah surveyed the room. There was a comfortable living room area with beautiful views of the moonlit mountains in the distance. She ran her hand along the edge of the leather sofa while Bill disappeared into the adjoining room, closing the door as he mumbled something