woman found Eric this morning around eight o’clock when she went to water his plants. He’d been strangled with his own necktie.”
Rob leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Any sign of a break-in?”
“No.”
“Robbery?”
“Not that the police have been able to determine.”
“Any known enemies?”
“None that I’m aware of.”
“How about women? Any disgruntled girlfriends in his past? A jealous husband maybe looking to get even?”
Seb lifted a brow. “Eric?” At Rob’s nod, he snorted. “Hardly. I don’t think Eric’s ever had a girlfriend. Lived with his mother until she died a couple of years ago. The only woman in Eric’s life is—was,” he clarified, frowning, “a cat. Sadie. Treated her like she was human. Rushed home from work at lunch every day, just to check on her.” He shook his head. “No. Eric didn’t have any jealous husbands gunning for him, and he didn’t have any girlfriends, either. Just old Sadie.”
“What about this Todman woman?” Rob pressed. “Do you think she and Eric could have been involved?”
Seb lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. Though I doubt it. Eric was…well, he was a bit on the strange side. A loner who kept to himself. Very protective of his personal life. No,” he said, his frown deepening as he considered. “More like secretive. Forget it,” he said, waving away Rob’s suggestion of a possible relationship. “There was nothing between them. He was a lot older than her. And he was fussy, if you get what I mean. About the way he dressed. The way he kept his house and car. Lived his whole life on a time schedule, never deviating a minute or two one way or the other. Hell, a woman would have messed up his life too much for him to ever want one around. The guy was a confirmed bachelor.”
“Sounds like about 90 percent of the members of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.”
Seb cut Rob a curious glance, then leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “Yeah, it does. Though that number’s dwindling fast. I’m beginning to wonder how we’re going to decide how to fund the profits from the Texas Cattleman’s Ball.”
Jason leaned forward, interjecting himself into the conversation. “I thought the terms of the bet were that the last bachelor standing prior to the Ball got to choose which charity would receive the money?”
“True,” Seb conceded. “But since Will here is married now and out of the running, that only leaves four of us. Just makes me wonder how many more will fall before time for the Ball.”
Rob rose, preparing to leave. “You can quit your worrying, because there’ll be at least one.” At Seb’s questioning look, he tapped a finger against his chest. “Me.”
After leaving Seb, Rob dropped by the police department and read the report the investigating officers had filed, requested a copy for his own files, then drove to the florist shop to question its owner, Rebecca Todman. He parked his sports car across the street from the shop, unfolded his long legs from the cramped interior and climbed out, slamming the door behind him. With his gaze on the shop, mentally assessing the place, he pressed a thumb against the security device attached to his key ring, activating the car alarm, then slipped the keys into his pocket and strode across the street.
A bell chimed musically above his head as he stepped inside. The heavy floral scent of fresh-cut flowers immediately sent his sensory nerves into overload. He wrinkled his nose and sniffed once to clear his sinuses before beginning a slow inspection of the shop and its occupants.
He pegged the owner immediately. A slim woman, about five foot six, short, dark blond hair, wearing a bright yellow bib-style apron with In Bloom embroidered in a colorful garland of flowers across its front. Though serviceable, the apron didn’t stand a prayer of hiding the feminine curves beneath it. Small, firm breasts, slender waist, delicately shaped rear, long, shapely legs. On another occasion, Rob might have taken the time to weave a few erotic fantasies of having those legs wrapped around his waist.
But not today. And not about this woman. Until he proved otherwise, Rebecca Todman was a suspect.
And Rob never complicated a case by becoming physically involved with a woman he’d been hired to investigate.
From his vantage point in the center of the shop, he had a good view of her standing in front of a glass-fronted refrigerator. She was sorting through a tall bucket full of long-stemmed roses while another woman—obviously a picky customer—watched, alternately nodding her approval or shaking her head at the stems selected. Though he pretended to browse, he kept a careful eye on the two, hoping to get a feel for the owner’s current emotional state before approaching her.
Though she appeared calm to the eye, keeping a patient smile in place for her customer, Rob easily detected the level of nerves beneath. She was scared…or, at the very least, shaken. Her face was pale with high points of color on each cheek, and her hands trembled slightly, causing the petals on the roses to quiver.
She glanced his way and inclined her head slightly, inviting him to browse. He nodded and pretended to do so while she arranged the roses in a vase, attached a ribbon and card, then walked her customer to the door.
When the bell chimed, signaling the customer’s departure, she headed his way, her smile still in place, though he could see the strain beneath it.
“Welcome to In Bloom. May I help you find something?” she asked politely.
He set down the potted plant he had been examining and glanced her way. “Maybe.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open, exposing his private-investigator license. “Rob Cole,” he said by way of introduction, while watching her face for a reaction. “I’ve been hired by Wescott Oil to investigate the death of Eric Chambers.”
He watched her face drain of what color still remained there. She took a step back, bringing her hands together at her waist to wring. “I’ve already told the police all I know.”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I read the report. But I was hoping that you wouldn’t mind answering a few more questions.”
She turned and moved behind the counter. “Like what?” she asked uneasily as she picked up a daisy to add to a fishbowl arrangement she’d obviously been working on earlier. He noticed that the tremble in her fingers was stronger now, the pallor of her skin a ghostlier white.
“Just a few questions about your association with Eric Chambers. Were you friends?”
Her chin quivered, but she quickly pressed her lips together to still it. “I’d like to think we were. We were neighbors, plus he was a client.”
Though Seb had mentioned the business association, Rob wanted to hear Rebecca’s explanation. “Client? He was a customer in your store?”
She chose a cluster of pink snapdragons to add to the arrangement. “That, too, but he also contracted with me to take care of his houseplants. Eric liked having live plants in his home, but didn’t have the time or talent to tend them.”
A huge white cat jumped up onto the table where Rebecca worked, startling Rob. It arched, rubbing its back along her arm, and meowed pitifully. Rebecca’s chin quivered again.
“Hey, Sadie,” she murmured, and set aside the flowers she was arranging to draw the cat into her arms. She nuzzled her cheek against the cat’s fur. “Are you missing Eric, sweetheart?”
Rob immediately tensed. “Eric? That’s Chambers’s cat?”
She nodded, then set the animal down, giving its sleek head one last, sympathetic stroke. “He was very attached to her, and her to him. I couldn’t very well leave her in the house alone, not with Eric…well, not without anyone there at the house to feed and look after her any longer.”
“Eric didn’t have family?”
She shrugged her shoulders