Delia held up her hand. “No, please, let me finish. And I’m sorry for how he died and that no one has been able to figure out who did it so the matter can be put to rest.”
Emily wished Delia had stopped after sorry for your loss instead of going on, which only made her feel awkward.
“Thank you for saying that, Ms. McCall,” Emily said.
“Please, call me Delia.” She gestured to the rows of muffins and scones in the display case. “Would you like something to eat?”
“No, I’m good. Delia, I’d like to get right to it, if you don’t mind.”
“All right,” she agreed.
“Can you tell me what Evan was working on for you?”
“You’re very direct, aren’t you? I like that,” Delia said. “I assure you, I am never short for words either, and I’m a big fan of always speaking your mind. It’s a sign of a strong and intelligent woman.”
“Thank you, but I’m looking for answers, not compliments.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you.” She looked around the coffee shop, leaned forward, and lowered her voice. “I asked Evan to investigate my husband, Ricardo.”
Emily’s curiosity was sparked and she leaned forward as well, taking her cue from Delia to keep their conversation private. “What did you suspect your husband was doing?” she questioned, “if you don’t mind my asking.”
Delia looked around again before she spoke in a muted tone. “I own Heaven Scent, the company that makes the candles and lotions and things. I believed then, as I do now, that my husband was embezzling money from my company. Not only that, but I think he’s cheating on me.”
Emily realized why her name had sounded familiar. She had heard it in the news recently because of the company’s explosive growth and expansion in the area.
“Do you think my husband could have been murdered because of what he was working on for you?”
“I don’t know,” Delia shrugged. “He was killed before he could give me the photos and the information he had compiled.”
“If the police had found his folder full of photos and evidence, Detective Tolliver would have questioned you or your husband about it, wouldn’t you think?” Emily asked.
“Yes, but he didn’t,” Delia replied, sitting back and sipping her hot drink.
Emily looked down at her hands folded on the table, wondering what to ask next, wondering what else this woman knew. It seemed like she had hit a dead end with Delia McCall, but there had to be more. There just had to.
“What if your husband killed Evan and stole the files so he would not be exposed?” Emily felt a sudden shortness of breath.
“I can’t imagine Ricardo would be willing to do something so horrible to cover up his affairs and the money he stole.”
Emily looked blankly past Delia, playing out the imaginary scenario in her head, envisioning those last minutes of Evan’s life if Ricardo had come to his office to kill him. This was the closest thing to a suspect or motive she’d had, to entertain the thought of.
“Emily?” Delia called out.
At the sound of her name, she shook her head and snapped back to the present.
“I can see those wheels turning in your head,” Delia said as if she had a way of looking inside Emily’s mind. “Evan told me you have a good head on your shoulders, and you have the tenacity to keep digging until you find something. Am I right?”
“I’d like to think so,” Emily admitted.
“And he told me you had helped him with some legwork on a few of his cases.”
“Yes, awhile back, before becoming a real estate agent.” She had done more than just legwork, but she preferred to keep that secret. “I’m a little surprised he mentioned that to you. He generally didn’t want people knowing I worked on any of his cases.”
“He didn’t go into any specifics or anything, just that he thought you were smart and driven—a bulldog for details, he said.”
“I see,” Emily acknowledged. “That sounds like something Evan would say.”
“That being said, I have a proposition for you.” Delia folded her arms across her chest. “Would you consider taking over the investigation your husband began?”
“Me?” Emily gasped, her eyebrows darting up. “Oh, I don’t know.” She sat back in her chair, her hand resting on her cheek, pondering.
“Now Emily, tell me the truth,” Delia leaned forward now, locking onto Emily’s gaze, “wouldn’t you want to know if your husband was seeing another woman behind your