Chapter Twenty-Four

Annie made herself another cup of tea before logging back on to Zoom. She was happy to see Claire’s face just for the familiarity.

“You okay?” Claire asked. “You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

Annie’s tears pricked again, but she refused to cry. She had no reason—yet. Filling Claire in on the latest, she watched as her friend got madder and madder on her behalf.

“Seriously. Those two detectives sound like complete jerks. Josie did some digging. I’m emailing you the information on the names you sent.”

Annie opened up her email. “I unfortunately need her to check out one more. Tate Murphy.” Her gut said it wasn’t him, but at this point, she needed to explore every avenue.

Claire wrote it down while Annie scanned the notes Claire sent.

Raj Adhar: 54; mortgage broker; financially stable; married twice, both divorces amicable; six parking tickets, all paid; no history of violence; belongs to several business organizations; no red flags Bethany Rail: 64; retired secretary; married once, divorced four years ago, estranged from husband, restraining order filed against him but never served; one child; no history of violence or red flags Ginger Bennett: 61; formerly in public relations; married three times, first husband died of unknown causes, inherited substantial amount of money, donated a large chunk of it to various charities; three children—two sons, one daughter, three grandchildren; former beauty queen; several overextended credit card debts, but owns her home outright Margie Tripalo: 59; retired high school sewing teacher; involved in various organizations including city council, chamber of commerce, several retired teacher associations; ran for local office four years ago, but pulled out before voting; one marriage, widowed fourteen years ago; suspected member of several radical protests against for climate change, but never charged with anything Mira’s words came back to Annie. “Even if it didn’t show Bethany as squeaky clean, I met her and Gill’s daughter tonight. Bethany has a broken ankle, so she’s out of the running anyway. Looks like Raj should be, too.”

“What about the daughter?” Claire said something to someone off camera.

“Do you have to go?” Annie felt bad for taking up her friend’s time with futile searches.

“Not just yet. The daughter?”

Annie shook her head. “I don’t think so. She said she’s positive it’s someone named Conway Leese, his business partner. I’ll scroll through his social media, but she didn’t have any concrete reasons for thinking it was him. Not that she shared, anyway.”

Claire jotted it down. “I’ll ask Josie to check him, too. We’ll figure this out. What did the lawyer say?”

That meeting had gone reasonably well. “To write everything down, to not speak to them again without legal counsel. He gave me the name of someone about a half hour from here who can stand in for him until he’s back, if I need. I’m sorry I’m dragging you into this.”

“Are you kidding? This is setting me up with plot bunnies for months. Besides, you’re my friend and the first person who reads my stories before they’re ready for the world. I can’t risk you going to jail. Who knows how the Wi-Fi is there?”

Annie laughed when she didn’t think she could.

“Now. Onto other things. How’s Dr. Hottie Pants?”

“I’m not calling him that, and neither are you.”

“You’re no fun.”

Annie told Claire about the Ben portion of the evening.

“Sounds like the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Claire said.

Annie hoped so. Regardless of anything else, Ben was providing her a shoulder she needed now more than ever. “He’s a good guy. He named the cats after Golden Girls.”

Claire choked on her cocktail. “You sure he’s into women?”

“Hey. His grandma loves the show. It reminds him of her.”

“Okay. Statement retracted. Listen, I know you have eight thousand things on your plate, but is there any chance you could read over my last few chapters before I send them to my editor? I’d really like to get some feedback before I do.”

No matter how many things she had on her plate, she always said yes to her friends. “Of course. It’ll be a welcome distraction. Send now, and I’ll curl up in bed with your words.”

Claire gave her a naughty grin. “You might wish you weren’t alone by the time you finish.”

Annie laughed again, harder this time. “I’m a big girl. I know how to take care of myself.”

Her friend’s expression shifted, growing serious. “I hope so. Make sure you do.”

Annie nodded. She’d do her best.

Luck or happenstance—or maybe bad luck and awful karma—found Annie outside putting the garbage cans next to the road when Tate rolled in on his skateboard. With his dark hoodie over his head, his baggy pants, and the dark scowl, she could understand why first impressions of him tended not to be great.

He chin-nodded a hello to her, clearly intending to head straight into his house.

“Hey. Come here for a second,” Annie called.

Tate hopped off his board, flipped it up into his hand with one kick. “What?”

Annie stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “Seriously? That’s your response?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Tate said, his shoulders hunched.

Annie closed the gap between them. “Who said you did?”

He looked at her like she’d swallowed one too many drinks. “Everyone. Nothing happens here that I don’t get blamed for.”

That hardly seemed true. “I could argue against that seeing as I’m the one being blamed for killing Gill.”

Tate’s dark, sleepy gaze widened. “No sh—” He cut himself off.

“None. I thought you said you didn’t feel comfortable sharing that picture.”

Tate shifted, avoiding her gaze. “So?”

So? So!? Is this kid for real? Annie clenched her fingers. “Detectives showed up at my door asking if it was me.”

She didn’t think his gaze could get any wider, but he proved her wrong. “Listen, I didn’t mean nothing. I just…I had no choice.”

“Who did you share it with? Detective Rickers or Black?”

“Who?”

Annie held his gaze until she was sure he wasn’t messing with her. He didn’t seem to know who they were, which meant he shared with someone else. Who?

“Did you send it to the police? I’m just trying to figure out how they got it.”

He shrugged, clearly hiding something. Annie felt as though she was trying to catch someone’s attention over the roar of waves. A futile endeavor.

“Tate? Everything okay, son?”

An older man with an oxygen tank on a roller ambled out onto the porch. He looked winded, even with the machine.

Tate’s demeanor changed immediately. Softened. His expression filled with concern. “Pops. What are you doing up?”

The man started to cough, then held up a hand. “I’m fine. Can’t spend my life in bed. What are you doing there? Who is that?”

Tate shot her a pleading glare, but she didn’t know for sure what he was asking. “This is Annie. Our new neighbor. Annie, that’s my pops, Bob.”

Bob waved. “Nice to meet you, dear. You settled in okay?”

“Nice to meet you, too, and yes. Tate brought me the muffins the other day. I was just thanking him again.”

Bob nodded, moved backward into the house as his gravelly voice called out to Tate. “Time to come in, son.”

Tate shot Annie another look she couldn’t decipher. “Look, I didn’t do anything to get you in trouble. I know what it’s like to be blamed for something you didn’t do. I wouldn’t play that game with someone else. I gotta go.”

She watched him walk away, sure of only two things: His grandfather was off any possible suspect list, and Tate Murphy was hiding something.