“What?” I said, frowning as I tried to make out the two objects in the frame. The photograph had been taken inside at night with almost no lighting and no flash.
“It’s you and me, inside Jesse’s house.” Mac looked at Eric. “Where’d you get these?”
He pressed his lips together, his tension palpable. “They were in Andrew Braxton’s smart phone.”
“What?” I was repeating myself, but I couldn’t help it. “That’s crazy.” I grabbed the photo again and stared at it long and hard. Finally I looked up and saw Mac and Eric watching me closely. “I recognize the sweatshirt I’m wearing. This was taken a few weeks ago, the first time we went inside the house.”
Mac’s eyes narrowed. “That was the night I snuck up and scared you.”
“Right,” I said. “So Andrew Braxton was hiding inside Jesse’s house almost two weeks before he ever showed up to check into Jane’s hotel.”
Chapter Fifteen
After leaving the police station, I decided to clear my head by taking an afternoon run along the beach. I got home and called both of my foremen to make sure the work on all our sites was going smoothly. It was, thank goodness, so I told them I’d see them tomorrow and changed into my sweatpants, long-sleeved T-shirt, and running shoes.
I locked up the house and jogged out to the sidewalk.
“Yoo-hoo! Shannon, dear,” Mrs. Higgins cried from where she knelt next to a rosebush in her garden across the street.
I gave one brief thought to building myself an escape tunnel from my house so I could come and go without being hailed by neighbors. But that wasn’t fair. Mrs. Higgins was a sweet lady. I was just feeling ragged and befuddled from seeing those creepy pictures of me and Mac inside Jesse’s house. I still couldn’t believe that Andrew Braxton had been hiding in the closet, snapping photographs. Why? We would probably never know. Had he killed Jesse? I doubted it, seeing as how he ended up dead himself.
Besides the shots of Mac and me inside Jesse’s house, there were two photos of Jane taken at Jesse’s memorial service a few days before that. I didn’t remember seeing Andrew there. Had he been wearing a disguise? I had no idea what it all meant. Who was he? And why was he dead?
“Hi, Mrs. Higgins,” I said, snapping out of my twisted reverie. “Your roses look beautiful.”
“Don’t they? They make me so happy.” She pulled off her gardening gloves and stood. “I’m glad I caught you. I want to show you something. Come with me.”
I followed her to the backyard, where her gargantuan fountain was madly humming and spewing water.
“See?” She pointed to the water at the base of the fountain where a small yellow plastic boat bobbed along the surface. “I decided the birds might enjoy a bath toy, so I bought this little boat for them.”
“Isn’t that fun?” I murmured.
“I think so. The birds love it.”
I stared at the plastic boat being pelted with water spurting from the dolphin’s mouth. If I were a bird and saw this colossal jumble of water-spitting statuary, I might fly in the opposite direction. But that was just me.
She tugged at my sleeve. “The little boat reminded me of something you asked me a while ago.”
I smiled patiently. “And what was that?”
“About Jesse, remember? I told you he was in a good mood. And I just remembered why.” She tugged a little harder. “He told me why he was so happy.”
I gently peeled her hand away from my sleeve. “What did he say?”
“He said . . .” She moved closer and whispered, “He finally met a woman who loved the same thing he did.”
I almost sighed out loud, it was such a bittersweet sentiment. Poor Jesse, I thought. And poor Althea, too.
“Boats!” she cried. Without warning, she yanked the yellow plastic boat out of the water and shook it in front of my face to make her point. “They like boats! I never knew Jesse liked boats. Did you?” She thought about that. “But wait. He was in the navy, so it makes sense.”
“It sure does.” I smiled as I wiped droplets of water off my face.
“Boats,” she muttered, tossing the child’s bath toy back into the water. “Did Jesse leave on a boat?”
She looked up at me then, and appeared a little lost. I wasn’t sure if she’d forgotten her train of thought or if she was missing her old pal. Either way, it was a little heartbreaking.
“Thanks for that information. I really appreciate it.” I patted her shoulder gently. “Let’s go around and see your rose garden, Mrs. Higgins.”
She grabbed hold of my arm for support and we walked slowly back to her front yard. We talked about the roses for another two or three minutes, and then I left her there and headed for the beach a block away down Main Street.