“Of course,” Gertie said. “We’re going to drive you home when you’re released.”
Her expression clouded a bit as they rolled her away.
“Well, looks like we’re hanging in the lobby for a while,” I said. “Want to flip a coin to see who goes for coffee and Danish?”
“I’ll go,” Gertie said. “You two never buy enough Danish.”
“I bought six last time,” I said.
“And ate three,” Gertie said.
“I was hungry,” I said. “I ran ten miles that morning.”
“Be that as it may,” Gertie said.
I pushed the door to enter the lobby and it almost smacked Detective Casey right in the face. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of us, then narrowed.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Seeing to Tiffany,” I said. “And when she’s done here, driving her home. Ida Belle and Gertie sorta run the support end of things in town.”
“She doesn’t have any family to do that?” Casey asked.
“No,” Ida Belle said. “And she doesn’t exactly have friends in Sinful given how her marriage came about.”
Casey sighed. “Yeah, I guess she wouldn’t. I keep forgetting that whole small-town dynamics thing. Did you see her?”
I nodded. “She’s got a hell of a good crack on the head. Knocked her out for two hours or better, best I can figure. That’s the only injury though.”
Casey looked relieved. “That’s good. Can she identify her attacker?”
“No,” I said. “She was asleep, heard something and woke up, got cracked on the head before she ever saw the guy. And there’s nothing stolen that she could tell either. Wallet, cash, jewelry all intact.”
Casey frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know,” I agreed. “But she only had time for a cursory review before the ambulance came, so you can’t be sure nothing’s missing.”
“All right,” Casey said, and she straightened. “Well, I best get to the crime scene then. I thought I’d stop and talk to Tiffany on the way there, but it doesn’t sound like she’s going to be able to shed any light on this. You ladies stay out of trouble.”
We all nodded, knowing exactly what she was implying.
“So what do you make of this?” Ida Belle asked as we slumped into chairs in the corner of the lobby.
“Nothing good,” I said. “If nothing was stolen, what was the point? He had hours to take whatever he wanted out of the house. And if the goal was to kill Tiffany, she was out cold and an easy target. So if it isn’t about assault or theft or murder, what the heck do we have left?”
“Maybe something was stolen that she isn’t aware of,” Ida Belle said.
“It’s possible,” I agreed. “But Carter won’t know if anything is missing and Tiffany seemed to cover everything of reasonable value.”
“I guess we’ll have to wait until Tiffany’s up to taking a harder look at everything,” Ida Belle said.
I nodded. Somehow, a robbery didn’t feel right. But then, nothing else did either.
Chapter Nineteen
It was another three hours before the doctor reviewed the MRI and cleared Tiffany to leave. Even then, he hesitated when she asked about release, but since the MRI was clear and even her headache was going away, there wasn’t much he could keep her on. And given the reason she was there in the first place, I figure he knew there was no way she was staying put as long as she was able to walk out on her own.
So we collected the records for the cops, and the three of us drove Tiffany home. Carter was standing on the front porch when we pulled up, looking aggravated, but he tried to hold it in as he asked Tiffany how she was feeling.
“The MRI was clear,” Tiffany said. “So fine, I guess. Are they done in there yet?”
“No,” Carter said and his jaw flexed. “Detective Casey wants her forensic team from New Orleans to do the job and they haven’t arrived yet. I should let you know she has a warrant so it will be a complete search, not just coverage of the break-in.”
Ah. The source of his aggravation. Carter and his team had been pushed out.
Tiffany just nodded, still pale and looking like a child more than an adult.
Casey must have heard her name because she stepped outside and gave Tiffany the once-over. “If you’re up to it, I’d like for you to do a walk-around and let me know if anything is missing.”
She looked back at me and asked, “Is it okay if she comes with me?”
I was a little surprised but Casey gave her a nod and motioned us inside. I followed Tiffany and we stopped in the living room as she checked a couple drawers and inside a television cabinet.
“I don’t see anything gone,” she said. “But then, there was nothing really valuable in here.”
Casey walked over to a table, removed a putty knife from a stack of books, and picked one up. I glanced at the titles and realized they were books on art.
“What about that painting?” Casey asked and pointed to the heinous Jesus playing poker mess. “Is it worth anything?”
“Good Lord, no,” Tiffany said. “That thing is horrible. Gil got all interested in art some months back and started reading up on things. Apparently, they’re using a painting like that on the set of the play. He took pictures and had an artist paint him one. I told him it was beyond offensive and tacky but he said that the artist’s style had merit—whatever that was supposed to mean—and he was using the painting to get into character. I didn’t bother to argue after that. It’s not like anyone came to visit us anyway.”
“Was that a common thing for him to do?” Casey asked. “That getting into character thing?”
“Oh yeah,” Tiffany said. “Ask me about the time he was playing a scuba diver and almost drowned in our garden tub because he forgot to turn his tank on.”
Casey stared for a couple seconds, then nodded. “Then let’s check the kitchen.”
We went through all the rooms, with Tiffany looking in drawers, cabinets, and other storage spots, but she couldn’t think of a single thing that was missing. And several reasonably valuable items were right out on display.
“I don’t understand,” Tiffany said. “Why aren’t things missing? They even left the cash.”
Casey frowned, glancing around Gil’s office, the last room we’d checked. “Did Gil have anything sensitive that someone might want?”
“Sensitive how?” Tiffany asked. “I mean, I guess he has information on a lot of people that he’s sold insurance to.”
“I meant the kind of information that wouldn’t be on a form,” Casey said.
Tiffany stared at her, confused for a moment, then her eyes widened. “You think Gil had dirt on someone doing something bad? Is that what you’re saying?”
Casey shrugged. “I’ve seen it before. Your husband knew a lot of people from his business and the acting. Could be he ran across things people didn’t want him to know and really didn’t want him to tell.”
“And you think—what—that he had pictures or video?” Tiffany asked.