Chapter Seventeen

Four sets of eyes stared at her with a range of judgment. At least, it felt like judgment to Annie. She turned her gaze to focus on a graduation photo of herself that sat atop the mantle next to other pictures of her and her family over the years.

“You blog about murder?” Ryan’s voice was strained.

Annie twisted back to look at him. “No. Of course not. That’s not what it is. Have you guys ever been to dinner theater or one of those evenings of murder?”

She avoided Ben’s face and looked toward Margie and Joseph. Come on, Margie.

Margie tapped her chin. “I went to one where I was the killer. It was a boatload of fun, but that was years ago. I did teach drama for two years at the high school. We hosted a dinner theater night to raise money. It was a big hit. Joseph, maybe we should get the community center to host one.”

Thank you, Margie!

Joseph patted Margie’s hand. “Great idea, love.”

“Can we focus, please?” Ryan paced the room, hands shoved into his pockets. “You used Gill as a character in a fictional blog that turned out to be true. That doesn’t look good. On the other hand, it’s not as if you said how and when he was murdered. It’s a loose connection at best. They’ll take a look, check your browser history, emails, and hard drive. Once they find nothing, they’ll give it back and be done.”

Sounded good. In theory. Except for the whole browser history thing. “They can’t build a case on my internet searches, can they?” It hit her, in that moment, that this wasn’t as fun when it was real. There was no veil or curtain to shield the gritty, unpleasant parts of this. She couldn’t cut to commercial or rewrite the ending. This was real.

Ben groaned. “Why? What did you search?”

Annie’s shoulders sagged. “Look. I like crime shows. I obviously don’t have the stomach for it as you all know, but when we plan these events, I look stuff up to make it sound realistic. It’s for fun. I want people to enjoy the events when it’s my turn so I sometimes use real-life examples of things that have happened. So, yeah, I research when I’m planning. I read murder mysteries, I blog about them, chat about them with friends. There are weirder hobbies, I’m sure.”

Ryan gave a groan of frustration. “I like cop shows and thrillers, too, Annie. I just don’t write about it using a real-life jerk who happened to wind up dead.”

Okay. That was her bad. She’d used items from the news in her last event, but this was closer to home and she should have thought it through more clearly. Of course, she had no idea they were going to see her as a suspect.

“It’s not like I knew he’d end up dead. I didn’t do it, so regardless of what they think they have on me, it won’t do them any good. What we need to do is find the real killer.”

Margie clapped her hands together. “You’re preaching to the choir, dear. You’re not one of those city girls who takes other peoples’ ideas as their own, are you? Because I did say we ought to dig into this ourselves.” A hint of a smile played on Margie’s lips. Joseph looked at her like she’d come up with a cure to end world hunger.

Wouldn’t hurt to have a man look at her like that, but Annie figured this latest hurdle would be her third strike with Ben. Not that it mattered right now. She needed to be more concerned with not getting blamed for murder than dating.

Ryan stopped pacing. “No one is looking into anything except me. You’ll all stay out of this.”

Ben caught Annie’s gaze. “You can trust Ryan.”

“And us,” Margie said, a hint of indignation in her voice.

“That’s right, you can.” Joseph smiled at her.

It wasn’t about trust. She was the only one in the room being looked at for murder. She was in this whether she wanted to be or not. Ryan couldn’t stop her from poking her nose in. After all, the only one whose nose would get locked up was hers. That meant, regardless of Ryan’s warning to back off, she was in this all the way.

Annie was not only in a stare down with a cat but the cat was winning. She couldn’t stop thinking about the idea that the detectives hadn’t bothered to do a thorough sweep of Gill’s house. What if Ryan was right and evidence of his killer was just lying around to be noticed? The picture Tate showed her kept running through her mind. Someone had been there. She’d gotten wrapped up in trying to convince Ryan she wasn’t some weird murder-blogging chick and didn’t share the picture. Plus, he’d been really adamant about her not getting involved.

“It isn’t breaking and entering.” The cat—rumor had it her name was Shelby after the classic vehicle—meowed in argument.

“I’m going to get you some more cat food and some of your things. Don’t you have toys or something?”

Shelby glanced down at her kittens, as though she thought Annie was a fool of epic proportions.

“Fine. You have no time for toys. I get it. They’re starting to look more like you,” Annie said, scratching behind Shelby’s ear.

Shelby looked up and meowed again. The kittens tried to nestle impossibly closer.

“Should we name them after cars like you?”

Shelby said nothing. To be fair, she was bathing her babies. Annie wanted to go next door and take a peek around. If the detectives wanted to wrap up the case with minimal effort, they wouldn’t dig too hard. But maybe there was something they didn’t look at, something they missed. She had the most to lose if they didn’t do their jobs properly. Between the picture and whatever she might find tonight, she could prove it wasn’t her and she might even be able to help them, steer them in the right direction.

Shelby hissed at her kittens, pulling Annie’s attention. The cat looked up and glared at Annie.

“Hey. I didn’t do this to you. You made your bed,” she said, holding her hands up in surrender. “Listen, I’m going to go. I won’t be long. Do you have a favorite squeak toy or anything? I’ll grab it.”

Shelby moved away from the hungry kittens, stood up and swished her tail. Hopping out of the bed, she used the boxes and shelves as her own parkour course and made her way to the top of the workbench.

“Fine. Be like that. You’re not the one looking at jail time,” Annie said. She refused to judge herself for arguing with a cat. Strange times, strange measures and all that.

“Call Ben if I don’t make it back,” she said on her way out of the garage.

It was late. Ben had stuck around after the others left. He didn’t seem put off by this new revelation about her and even admitted to a few quirks of his own. He liked to skateboard, had a closet full of items purchased from late-night shopping shows, and he’d listened to more than a few crime podcasts.

Best of all, he hadn’t walked away. All attraction aside, he was proving to be a good friend. At the moment, he was her only friend. Shelby might be warming up to her, but Annie suspected she had a long way to go with the finicky feline.

After eating grilled cheese for dinner, Annie used her phone to send an email to her clients saying things would be delayed by a few days due to a family emergency. She ordered an iPad online. It’d be here tomorrow, but for now, she didn’t have a way to work on projects.

Claire messaged, suggesting she follow the money. Murder typically had one—or more—of three motives. Money, sex, or power. Which of those three had ended the man’s life? Annie wondered if there was something in Gill’s belongings or house that would point at Raj. She didn’t want to immediately assume the worst of her new neighbor, but heck, she also didn’t want to go to jail.

With the cover of night having her back, Annie stepped out onto her front porch. She channeled her inner-wannabe-sleuth and decided to act like she belonged.

Glancing around at the other homes, she saw most of the windows were dark. In and out. She’d told Shelby she was going to grab some of her cat things. That would be her cover if she got caught. Steeling her shaky resolve, she walked to Gill’s as she had the morning she found him, taking the driveway and the path. She hadn’t given any thought to how she was going to get in until her hand reached the doorknob. It turned.

“Lucky,” she whispered. Or one more oversight by the detectives.

Slipping in, she closed the door behind her and tried to calm her rapid breaths. Her stomach turned at the lingering stench of days’ old bacon. Breathing through her nose, she focused on the swift rate of her pulse, counting in an effort to tame it.

Pushing off the door, she shuffled into the living room, giving her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dark. The moonlight slanted through the window just enough to give a hint of visibility. His coffee table was littered with car magazines. Looking—but not touching—she saw the name on the address label. Gill’s Classic Cars. She needed to look up the dealership and see who was running it.

In the corner, beside the recliner she’d sat in days ago, she noticed the cat bed. Shelby didn’t really need a bed, though maybe she’d be more comfortable. She picked it up, put it by the door, and then headed for the back of the house, which was the same layout as hers. She’d start with the bedroom and office because she wasn’t entirely sure she could go into the kitchen.

The office was not nearly as nice as her parents’, but that could have been because of the mess. Papers, binders, car manuals, and envelopes littered every surface. A computer sat on the desk, but Annie didn’t think she had enough tech skills to do any digging there. Instead, she used the sleeve of her shirt to open the bottom, largest drawer. Surprisingly, it was set up with folders all labeled and alphabetical.

Annie dug through, belatedly wondering if she should have worn gloves. Would they already have swept for fingerprints already? Ryan didn’t seem to think they covered all of their bases here, but she’d worry about that later.

One file label read Loans. She opened it, pulled out some papers to scan them. He’d been in debt. Not surprising. Who wasn’t? But it was interesting, given how he’d accused her of being a freeloader. From the look of the papers, he’d taken a mortgage out on the dealership. The bank letterhead seemed legit, so it wasn’t like he’d borrowed from a loan shark or something who then offed him for not paying. Jeez, Annie. This is real life, not a novel. After snapping a picture of the paper, she put everything back, closed the drawer, frustrated because she didn’t really know what she was looking for.

A receipt on the desk caught her gaze because it had Gill’s handwriting scrawled across. It was for flowers. Gill had sent someone flowers? She looked closer, saw he’d written To Bethany—We will get to the other side together on the card. The other side of what? Life? She needed to find out more about the ex-wife and who had she supposedly turned against Gill. Did she inherit the dealership?

She froze. What was that? Annie held her breath. Had she heard the door? Phone in hand, she dialed the first two numbers for help, as she had with Tate. She tiptoed away from the desk, peeking out of the room. When she heard nothing, she tiptoed toward the living room. Annie didn’t know if her scream was from stubbing her baby toe on the wall or seeing a dark, shadowy figure.

A flash of white caught Annie’s gaze as the person moved, shoving something into the pocket of a dark sweater or cloak.

“Who are you?” The voice was ragged and raspy. And female.

“Who are you? I only need to press one number to get the police here,” Annie said, hoping her voice sounded more threatening than she felt.

Something about the woman kneeling on the couch felt familiar. She stood slowly in sky-high leopard-print heels. Shopping bags. The Lexus.

“You followed me at the grocery store.” Annie pointed at her. “Who are you?” Her eyes adjusted, and she saw the answer herself. “Ginger. You live at the front of the complex. You followed me at the store.”

“Yes, I’m Ginger. I wasn’t following you. I was curious, that’s all. I thought I’d say hi but changed my mind. It was nothing.”

It’d felt like a lot more than nothing to Annie. “What are you doing in Gill’s house?”

Now that she could see better, Annie noted the woman wore a black, fur-style jacket. Whatever she’d tucked into the pocket stuck out a little. The white practically glowed against the coat. Between that and the shoes, Annie felt very underdressed for this little mission.

“I could ask you the same.”

“Gill’s cat made my garage into a delivery room for her kittens. I was grabbing some of her things,” Annie said, gesturing to the door.

To her surprise, Ginger’s expression softened in the pale light. “Oh, I wondered where Shelby had gotten to.”

“You knew Gill had a cat?”

The woman straightened her shoulders, an unnecessary show of dominance given the heels put Annie at a disadvantage height wise.

“I knew many things about Gill.” Her breath hitched.

“That doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.” Annie stepped forward, fighting back the knowledge that this woman could be a killer.

“It’s personal.” She looked away, her hand going to her pocket again.

“I’m sure Detectives Rickers and Black would be curious what personal business you have with Gill to be skulking around the dead man’s home close to midnight.”

Ginger hissed out a breath. “We were having an affair okay, Nosy Nelly. Not that it’s anyone’s business, but we…” She trailed off.

Annie stepped closer, swallowing down the ugly thought of Gill having an affair with anyone. “What?”

Ginger stepped closer, and Annie saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. “We were fooling around—one thing led to another. I left a personal item here and didn’t want the police to find it.”

Said the killer. Annie backed up a step. “What personal item?”

Ginger’s expression hardened. “You’d think a concussion would make you more cautious.”

Wowzers. She’s got more attitude than Shelby. Maybe you ought to tread carefully. “How did you know about the concussion?”

“Please. Everyone knows everyone’s business here.”

Except for the affair apparently. Or was Annie the only one who didn’t know? Unless she was lying through her perfectly whitened teeth. It was hard to picture Gill having enough…affection for anyone to engage in an affair. Wait. Was this woman married?

“Are you married?”

“Are you a cop?” Ginger sighed loudly. “No. I’m not.”

“Then why the secret? How do I know you’re not lying about Gill and you?”

Ginger sank onto the couch, dropped her head. “You don’t. That’s the thing. I’ve been so tangled up in all of the lies, I’m not even sure what’s true anymore.”

Against her better judgment, Annie sat on the edge of the recliner, waiting for Ginger to continue.

She lifted her head, and now that her eyes had adjusted fully, Annie saw the pain in the woman’s gaze, even beneath the heavy makeup.

“Bethany was my friend. I didn’t mean to fall in love with Gill. He was using me. I came to get these,” she said, pulling something out of her pocket.

Annie reared back when she saw the flash of white cotton scrunched in her fist. Underwear? “Ew.” She slapped a hand over her mouth.

Ginger’s gaze darkened. “Oh, grow up. He was a very proficient lover.” She shoved her underwear back into her pocket while Annie fought off her nausea.

“Not to point out the obvious, but scorned lover kind of makes the top of the suspect list,” Annie said. She continued to grip her phone, the final number ready to be pressed.

“You’re right. Except I didn’t want him dead. I wanted him to miss me. I’ve been staying with my son. I came home the afternoon of his murder, only to find out he was gone. I couldn’t even ask questions because I don’t want to wreck my friendship with Bethany.”

Not sleeping with the woman’s ex-husband seemed like a no brainer. Friendship 101. Annie held her tongue. She hadn’t seen the Lexus around in a while, but it was hardly her focus.

“Did the police question you?”

She nodded. “I have an alibi. Do you?”

Annie nodded, unsure where to go from here.

“We need to find out who did this, Annie. As much as I don’t want to believe it, I think it was someone close by. Raj has a terrible temper. So does Joseph.”

She’d witnessed Raj’s—though she wouldn’t have labeled it as such. More like a vengeful streak. Or tone, at least. As for Joseph, he didn’t strike her as having a mean bone in his body.

“Did you share your thoughts with the police?” She’d skipped over the whole “we” thing.

“Of course. But many people hated Gill. Whoever did this was strong. It had to be a man. I heard it was an act of passion or extreme anger.”

Annie could attest to that. She’d read the same thing time and again. Knives were a close-up weapon. Usually, stabbing was fueled by anger and, in some cases, a twisted sense of passion and love.

“Why would either man kill him?” She wanted to find out more about Bethany but didn’t know how to ask.

Ginger looked around, her gaze sad. “Who knows. Maybe it was Bethany, but that seems like a stretch. But…if she found out Gill was sleeping with me?”

Seemed to Annie that Bethany might want to kill Ginger for that bit, not her husband.

“Tell me you’ll help me. I’m not young like you are. Gill’s death has flattened me, and I can’t share that with anyone. No one cares how the jilted lover feels.”

Again, Annie thought the jilted lover might feel like getting revenge in the form of a knife in the back. She’d play along for now but ask Ryan about Ginger’s alibi.

“We should go.” Annie stood.

“Not through the front. Joseph sometimes sleepwalks after midnight. Let’s go through the back.”

Annie didn’t know what to do or think. Was this woman a killer? A devastated lover? A con artist? She’d followed her in the store but seemed nearly docile when Gill said hello to her that one day.

“Lead the way. Just let me grab the cat bed.”

Though she’d come for clues, Annie couldn’t force herself to look toward the spot she’d found Gill. She kept her gaze trained on Ginger’s back as the woman slipped open one of the French doors and exited onto the back porch. Annie was just thinking how she’d fall flat on her butt if she wore Ginger’s heels when the woman did exactly that, hitting the dusty little path to the fence with a hard thud. Her hands clenched at the dirt and she moaned low in her throat. Annie hurried toward her.

“Are you okay?” She whispered the words, glancing around to make sure no one—like Tate—was watching.

Ginger nodded, her gaze filling with more tears. “Just hurt my pride. Which I guess is a good thing because after Gill, I didn’t think I had any left.”

Despite the situation, Annie laughed quietly. “Come on, let me help you up.”

The woman’s fingers remained clenched and her movements were stiff. “I’m fine now, dear. Thank you.”

They let themselves out of the yard, standing in the small path between Annie and Gill’s house.

Ginger sighed. “I know people thought Gill was awful, but he had a softer side. He didn’t deserve to die this way.”

Annie wasn’t sure about the softer side—though she’d caught a glimpse of it that one day—but she agreed with latter statement. No one deserved this.

“We can help each other. You obviously want the truth, too, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Ginger had a point. Plus, Annie was doing this anyway. Ginger knew more than she did about Gill and the people in his life.

Annie gave a very subtle nod. “I think it’s time all of the neighbors got together. What day works best for you?”