forgotten (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 2) by CJ Carmichael Page B

she’d seen or heard something. Or maybe Jim had, and then had shared his knowledge with his wife.
    Muriel was showing classic signs of guilt by association.
    But he didn’t dare press her too hard.
    He took one of the untouched glasses from the table and handed it to her. “Maybe you should sit down.”
    He and Duane stayed with her for another fifteen minutes. They calmed her down, then asked her the same questions, over and over. She didn’t change her story a bit, just kept insisting she didn’t know anything.
    Next they questioned her about the withdrawals from Daisy’s bank account. As planned, Duane insinuated they would be able to identify her from the video footage.
    She only increased her denials. Her insistence they were trying to trick her.
    Eventually Wade circled back to the night Daisy died.
    “How could you have slept through the argument, and all that commotion?” Wade asked. “It just doesn’t wash.”
    “I used to wear ear plugs to bed. Because of Jim’s snoring.”
    Wade went for the opening. “So you admit there was an argument—you just didn’t hear it. Did your husband tell you about it the next day?”
    “No. No. You’re twisting my words. Jim told me nothing. There was nothing to tell.”
     
     

chapter fourteen
     
    w hat are your plans for the rest of the day?” Charlotte fastened her bra, adjusted her breasts, then put her blouse back on.
    God, he loved watching the librarian dress.
    Dougal was propped up in her bed, arms crossed behind his head. She’d opened the curtains and the bright noon-hour sunshine pooled on the foot of the bed where she was sitting.
    “My plans? Gosh, Charlotte, let me check my day planner.”
    Even as she laughed, she shook her head. “I couldn’t live that way. I need discipline. Order. Routine.”
    He cringed.
    “Will you be here when the kids and I get home around five?”
    “I’ll probably go back to the cottage to do some writing. But I can come back. If you want me.”
    “Oh, I do.” She leaned over to give him a kiss.
    He caught her hand before she moved away. “As long as we’re clear I’m not playing the role of surrogate uncle to the twins.”
    She hesitated, then said, “Clear on that. Why don’t you bring Borden with you? The kids would like her, I’m sure. And Borden seems happy here, too.”
    This was true. His cat still wasn’t keen on the cottage or the forest beyond the windows.
    “I’ll do that.” He rolled out of bed, went to give the librarian a kiss. “For the record, I like it here, too,” he whispered, his mouth against her ear.
    “Oh, do you?” Charlotte pushed him back, then stepped into a skirt. For some reason she always dressed in the most dowdy clothes for work. But he wouldn’t complain. Not when he knew what she looked like without those clothes.
    In the ensuite bathroom he grimaced at his reflection. He’d grown fond of his longish hair.
    Charlotte’s gaze was amused, as she reached around him for her hair brush. “Is your vanity getting the better of your curiosity?”
    She knew him too well. How had that happened? They’d been sleeping together for only a few months. But she was right, of course. Birdie’s amnesia had him fascinated. Was it genuine?
    Maybe it was. By all accounts the accident had been horrific and she’d suffered a terrible blow to the head.
    But—what if she’d been running from something, looking for a clean start. Pretending to have amnesia would give her the perfect opportunity to start over.
    Problem with that, of course, was constantly having to be on your guard in case you inadvertently gave yourself away.
    * * *
    When he did go for a haircut—which was rarely—Dougal preferred a regular barbershop. Not a fancy day spa with cucumber infused drinking water and a tropical rainforest soundtrack.
    But today he was going to make an exception.
    He opened the door of Skin Deep and was immediately cocooned in a scent that was soft and herbal. Not too sweet. Kind of nice,