“Yes. I take them everywhere I go. They’re great at the beach because they’re waterproof,” she said, searching her purse for them. “Here they are.”
Marcel took the headphones from her and immediately knew there was something familiar about them. It didn’t take him but a second to remember that a similar pair was found in Brandy Booker’s belongings. “I’m going to have to hold on to these for a while, Ms. Oakley.”
She looked surprised. “Why?”
“I’ll need our technicians to check them out.”
“Why? They’re just headphones.”
“We’ll verify that and return them to you. Is this the only pair you have?” Marcel asked.
“Yes. He only gave me that one pair.”
“And what was his name? The man who—”
“Dumped me? Go ahead and say it. I don’t mind.”
Marcel cleared his throat. “What’s his name?”
“John Wayne.”
Marcel’s brows bunched together. “John Wayne?”
“Yes, isn’t that neat? His parents named him after the actor.”
Probably not his real name, Marcel thought but decided to keep that to himself for now. “Where did the two of you meet?”
“In the park, not far from where I live. He was walking his dog.”
“So he lives in your area.”
“No. He said he liked driving over to our park. He thought it was a lot more interesting.”
I bet, Marcel thought to himself. Half an hour later, he finished going through all the questions he had for Ramona Oakley. “That is all for now, Ms. Oakley,” he said, standing.
She stood, as well. “For now? Does that mean you might be calling me back in?”
“Possibly.”
“That’s neat. I like talking to you. How old are you, Mr. Eaton?”
He moved from behind his desk to escort her out of his office. “I’m fifty-seven.”
“You don’t look it.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you married?”
“Yes, for twenty very happy years.” He decided to throw that in just in case she was getting any ideas. “I’m the father of triplets who just entered college this fall.”
Before she could ask him any more questions, he quickly said, “Have a good day, Ms. Oakley.”
Thirty-Eight
The housekeeper of the Timmons estate escorted Shiloh and Jules into the family room. And, just like the rest of the house Jules had seen so far, it was massive and too elegant for words. She turned to Shiloh in awe. “And to think you once lived here.”
“Yes, but don’t be too impressed. It wasn’t a home filled with love, and I stayed away as much as I could. I found my solace at Sutton Hills,” Shiloh said, sitting down on one of the sofas.
“And with Caden?” Jules asked, sitting down, as well.
Shiloh’s smile displayed more than a hint of happiness when she said, “Yes, and with Caden.” She was about to say something else when the sound of footsteps could be heard on the marble floor.
“Shiloh, sweetheart, imagine my surprise when...” Sandra Timmons’s smile and words died slowly when she saw Jules. “I didn’t know you had brought a friend with you.”
Both Jules and Shiloh stood. Shiloh smiled over at Jules. “Yes, I did. Mother, I’d like you to meet Jules Bradford. She’s Shana’s sister.”
Sandra Timmons arched a brow. “Shana?”
“Yes. Jace’s wife.”
“Oh.”
Do you have to make your disappointment so obvious? Jules thought, studying Shiloh’s mother. Sandra Timmons was a beautiful woman for her age, and Jules wondered how much of it was original and how much was courtesy of a plastic surgeon. She definitely looked the part of a wealthy matron, from the sophisticated and stylish pants suit she was wearing to the style of her hair, with not a strand out of place.
When it was obvious that Mrs. Timmons wouldn’t make the first move to display Southern hospitality or graceful manners, Jules decided to do so. Crossing the room, she extended her hand. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Timmons.” She did not add the cliché of, And I’ve heard a lot about you, although it would have been true.