Death on a Deadline

have kids, you inherit the ability to pull off that look as needed. “Zac told us about your fiancée breaking up with you. And that you blamed Hank.”
    “Zac didn’t mean to—” I felt like I had to defend my nephew even if his friend was a murderer.
    Elliott held up his hand to stop me. “It’s okay. I don’t blame Zac at all. I wouldn’t have spilled my sorry story to him if I’d known what was about to happen.” He motioned to the couch. “Would you ladies like to sit down?”
    We settled in on the sofa and he sat across from us in a wingback recliner.
    I mentally reviewed my list of questions.
    Carly leaned toward Elliott. “Why did you blame Hank?”
    Oh, yes, question number one. We’d agreed that if he told us about the Dear Pru letter on his own that would be a big point in his favor. What we hadn’t discussed was Carly asking the questions. Suddenly I realized what was going on. In spite of my promise, she didn’t trust me not to hurt Elliott’s feelings, or perhaps alienate him forever.
    “I don’t know now.” His face reddened slightly and he looked out the window as if the answer were there.
    Uh-oh. Not good. Carly obviously agreed because she avoided my glance.
    Elliott drew his gaze back to me, as if he knew that even though Carly was asking the questions, I was the one demanding answers. “My fiancée, Heather, wrote the Monitor and asked some advice columnist what to do.” He ran his hand over his face. “Dear Pro, or something like that, told her to dump me and get on with her life. Heather left me a good-bye letter and put the advice column in the envelope with it. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I stormed into Hank’s office and threatened to sue him and his paper for interfering with my life.” He shrugged. “I didn’t mean it. Heather and I had been growing apart for a while. But I was so caught up in my dream of what life was supposed to be, that I pushed all my doubts to the back of my mind. You know?”
    Carly and I nodded.
    “I was giving lessons early and late, focused on my goal of being able to afford a nice house and so forth, things I thought she wanted. But then I lost sight of the real goal. Having a life.”
    “That’s easy to do,” Carly said softly. “Sometimes I’ve felt that way about getting my kids grown. I concentrate so much on the end result that I lose sight of the journey.”
    “I can understand that,” Elliott said, smiling at her. “And I imagine, with your kids, the journey is the fun part.”
    He obviously hadn’t met the twins. But he was just as obviously besotted with my sister.
    “So you didn’t kill him?” Carly asked.
    He jumped to his feet, towering over us. “No, Carly. Of course I didn’t. But if I did, would I tell you? I understand your wanting to help Zac. But this is your plan? Ask anyone who might be involved?”
    “Sort of,” Carly squeaked.
    Elliott sat back down and his voice softened. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but. . .that’s a bad plan. Whoever killed Hank means business. The best thing you two can do is let the police handle this.” He put his hand on Carly’s and squeezed.
    I cleared my throat and stood. “So we’ve been told.”
    Carly sat like a lump on the couch, holding hands with the suspect. I cleared my throat again, and she reluctantly pulled her hand loose and got to her feet. “Jenna thought that we should look into it on our own,” Carly confessed.
    Now that all the blame was on my shoulders, I decided to ask one more question. “No offense, Elliott, but where were you when Hank was killed?”
    Wow. Who knew Carly could slug that hard? I’d sport a bruise on my shoulder from that.
    I glared at her. “Ouch! Look, I believe you, too, Elliott. But we need some type of proof. I mean, anyone can say ‘I didn’t do it’. We need to know you didn’t.”
    Elliott threw back his head and laughed. “You’re right, Jenna. But the police have questioned me extensively. I guess the golf club pointed them in my direction, too. If only the killer had used something like a baseball bat. Then maybe the high school coach would be the one getting all the attention.”
    “I know.” I did feel bad for him. What if Hank had been killed with a pair of swim goggles? I could’ve been in Elliott’s shoes.
    “So you don’t have an alibi?”
    He shook his head. “He was apparently killed in the very early morning hours. And I don’t give lessons before daylight. It’s so hard to hit the