First draft only. Please don't quote or re-post.
“You do realize he didn’t kill Minna Gorham, right?”
Jonathon looked up and over his glasses, his pen lifting from his paperwork. In a patient voice, as if recounting to someone who persisted in misunderstanding him, he laid out his reasoning
“Item one: he can’t account for his whereabouts that night. Item two: he was seen more than once talking to Minna Gorham when it seemed to have nothing to do with his duties as groom. Item three: he ran. Item four: I don’t like his looks. Item five: he ran.”
“It’s all circumstantial, Sheriff,” she protested.
“Of course it is, Special Examiner. But it allows me to question him. And he is involved in some way, make no mistake about that. He ran for a reason.”
He looked back to his paperwork. Anabelle stared at him for a moment.
“Since when do you need glasses?”
“Since always,” he replied evenly without looking up. “I guess there’s a thing or two you don’t know about me.”
She silently acknowledged the hit. Despite four years of marriage, at least one of those which she’d spent in Derrytown, Anabelle realized she didn’t know her husband as well as she had imagined.
A flashing memory of the last time they’d spent the night together in the same bed had her lips curving in a small, secret smile. And some things about Jonathon she knew very well indeed. Her smile faded. Their strained relationship had ended those episodes. She hadn’t realized until now just how much she missed them – how much she missed him.