Busman's Honeymoon (Savannah Martin Mystery #10.5) Read online

  She glanced at Gloria and Hildy. “So she put some of Groot’s sleeping medicine in Frenetta’s wine, and waited until Frenetta went upstairs to her apartment. Then she knocked on the door, ostensibly to talk about it again, and when Frenetta said it was too late, Vonnie got angry. Frenetta acted groggy, Vonnie helped her to bed. And killed her.”

  There was a pause, while we all digested this.

  “She didn’t seem upset,” Lou added. “No remorse that I could see. It was all about the house. And about their mother, who left the house to Frenetta and not her. That was really all she talked about.”

  There was another pause.

  “What about the husband?” Rafe muttered.

  Lou glanced at him. “Says he didn’t know she was going to do it. Says he didn’t know she did it until the next morning, when y’all went up to the apartment and found her dead. I have no way to know whether he’s lying or telling the truth.”

  “Could go either way,” I said.

  She nodded. “I’m not sure it matters. Vonnie killed her. Whether Groot knew or not, he’s being punished. His wife will spend the rest of her life in prison.”

  “I guess there’s no chance she’ll plead not guilty.”

  Lou shook her head. “Not with a confession on record. And that’s what’ll make it easier. No trial. She’ll go before the judge in a couple of days and get sentenced, and that’ll be it.”

  “Convenient.” And cheap. She wouldn’t need attorney fees if there was no trial. So much for my reassurance to Gloria and Hildy that Vonnie would need all the money she could scrape together to defend herself.

  The two of them exchanged a glance. “We have the contract,” Gloria said.

  Hildy nodded.

  Lou looked from one to the other of them, and then decided to leave well enough alone. She turned to me. “Y’all headed back to Nashville?”

  “We were just talking about that,” I said. “And I think I’d like to, if it’s all right with you. This hasn’t exactly been the honeymoon of my dreams.”

  “The sex was good,” Rafe muttered.

  We all turned to stare at him, and he must have realized it because he blinked. “What did I say?”

  “That the sex was good,” I told him. At least it had sounded like that.

  “Oh.” He thought for a second. “It was. But I was talking about the beach. The beach was good.”

  “Do you want to go on the beach again before we go home? We can spare a couple hours before we head out.” We’d still make it home by tonight. I figured I’d be doing most of the driving, since he could barely keep his head up.

  He shook his head. “Nah. I just wanna sleep.”

  “You can sleep all the way home. I’ll get you there in one piece.”

  It was a testament to how tired he was that all he did was nod. Normally, he would have fought me for the privilege of driving.

  “Sheriff?” I turned to Lou.

  She waved a hand. “Go on. Take care of yourselves. Stop by if you’re ever back in Davenport.”

  I said we would.

  “And don’t speed on your way out of town.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, and turned to Rafe. “Ready?”

  He nodded blearily, and pushed to his feet. I’d already put the bags in the car, so we were all set.

  “Come back and see us,” Hildy said, walking us to the back door like a proper hostess, while Gloria continued to entertain—or quiz—the sheriff in the dining room. “I have a good feeling about this. We’ll be here next summer.”

  She smiled.

  “We’ll remember that,” I told her.

  She watched while I maneuvered Rafe into the passenger seat, and moved the seat back so his legs—much longer than mine—had enough room to stretch. Then I headed around the car to the driver’s side door. “It was nice to meet you both. Good luck with everything.”

  “Safe travels,” Hildy said, and waved as I drove out of the parking lot, away from the Victorian house, and the garage apartment, and the crime scene tape strung across the stairway.

  When I could no longer see the place in my rearview mirror, I glanced at Rafe. “Still awake?”

  He mumbled something.

  “Want me to stop on the way out of town so you can splash in the water one last time before we go?”

  He shook his head. “Take me home.” He didn’t even open his eyes.

  “As you wish,” I said, and stepped on the gas.

  # # #

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  About the Author

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jenna Bennett (Jennie Bentley) writes the Do It Yourself home renovation mysteries for Berkley Prime Crime and the Savannah Martin real estate mysteries for her own gratification. She also writes a variety of romance for a change of pace. Originally from Norway, she has spent more than twenty five years in the US, and still hasn’t been able to kick her native accent.

  For more information, please visit Jenna’s website: www.JennaBennett.com

  BUSMAN’S HONEYMOON

  Savannah Martin Honeymoon Novella #10.5

  Copyright © 2015 Bente Gallagher

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.