I smiled, glanced around, and found myself staring right at Detective Hannah Parrish from the Sonoma County Sheriff’s Department. Her smile was a lot less friendly than the last time I’d seen her and I quickly looked away. Then I had to try and remember exactly when I’d seen her last. I recalled seeing her at the press conference, but I also had a vague recollection of seeing her at Trudy’s house the day Amelia was killed.
Was she annoyed with me? Did I say something strange while under the influence of painkillers? I would have to make a point to talk to her after the service. I didn’t need a local cop focusing her anger on me.
I continued to wonder why she was so annoyed. Though to be fair, I seemed to have that effect on police officers.
*
“Ms. Wainwright.”
I turned and looked directly into the eyes of Detective Parrish. Again.
“Hello, Detective. Can I offer you some crudité? Or something a little heartier?”
We were standing in the attached dining hall where an abundance of savory food and delectable desserts was always served after events.
“No, thanks.” She looked around. “Everything looks great.”
“We know how to throw a party, even when it’s a sad occasion.”
She seemed uncomfortable, but I didn’t know if it was the surroundings or me, specifically. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about the day you were attacked.”
“I remember seeing you there. It’s a very foggy memory, I’m afraid.”
“I can understand. I’m sorry you were hurt.”
“Mine was the least of the injuries that day.”
“Indeed. I was hoping to hear from you before now.”
“Oh. I thought you got all my information from Derek. Derek Stone.”
“I asked him to have you call me.”
“He might’ve said something, but I was probably still out of it and didn’t follow through. I apologize.”
She seemed to relax a little as she reached for a carrot stick and took a bite. “No worries. Can you tell me what happened?”
I related everything exactly as I remembered it, and exactly as I’d told Derek before. She listened and nodded and crunched on her carrot stick.
“Mr. Stone said that you heard the floor creak?”
“That was my only warning. I thought it was Amelia, but it wasn’t.”
She nodded again. “I appreciate your help. I may call you again to ask more questions, if you don’t mind.” She pulled a business card from her jacket pocket. “And if you remember anything else, please feel free to call me.”
“Thank you. I will. I’m sorry again that I got my wires crossed.”
Detective Parrish smiled and walked away. I stared after her, wondering where she’d received her training. The cops in San Francisco never would’ve been so polite or nonjudgmental. I always felt as if I were being put through the wringer with the city cops, and right now, I almost missed the feeling. Almost.
I was crossing the hall to get a glass of juice, when I caught a glimpse of Annie bringing in another tray of desserts. I detoured over to help her.
“Hi,” she said, setting the tray down on the table and spreading the individual tart plates across the table. “You’re looking a lot better than you did the last time I saw you.”
“Thanks,” I said, laughing. “That was a whole two days ago.”
“Hey, you were wearing pajamas.”
“I clean up well.” I helped her move plates around so she could fit all the tarts on the table. “These look so good.”
“I’ve had two of the apricot tarts, so I can promise they’re fabulous.”
“How have you been?” I asked.
She glanced around the crowded room, gave me a look, and whispered, “You mean, ‘How was your date?’”
I laughed. “Well, now that you mention it, yeah. How was it?”
“You’re such a bozo,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t think I would like him because of you.”
“What do you mean? I told you he was pleasant.”
“You made him sound like a snoop. Like he might go prying into my underwear drawer or something.”
“I never meant that.”
She laughed. “I know you didn’t. And I realize he’s a reporter, but you’re right—he’s really pleasant and very attractive and seems pretty interested in me.” She smiled shyly. “We’re going out again tomorrow night.”
“I’m glad,” I said, and meant it. “I want you to be happy. And as I already said, I like him. It’s just that . . .”
“I know, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s a reporter.”
I grinned. “Exactly.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, picking up the empty tray. “I won’t divulge any of your deep, dark secrets.”
I smiled indulgently. “If only I had any.”
*
Later that afternoon, once the memorial service and reception were over, Derek and I tried to find Jackson, but he had disappeared again. We swung by the vineyard offices, but he hadn’t checked in. We even made the long drive up to his house, but he wasn’t home.