Page 46 of Death and Do-Overs

Imogen squished up her face in suspicion. “If theyforcedhim to say he was sorry, I don’t think that rules him out as our prime suspect. He probably wasn’t sorry at all.”

Another fair point. I said, “Later that day in a fit of road rage he tried to flip a bus.”

“That’s…wow. Not good.”

“Also not smart,” I said. “It ran him over.”

“So he’s not our guy becausehe’s dead?”

I nodded and took another long drink of my coffee.

Imogen pulled out a pen and crossed Anous Brown off the list. She flashed one of her blinding smiles my way. “I was really feeling Anous.”

I choked on a bit of coffee.

“As a suspect.”Imogen laughed.

Because she laughed, I was starting to believe her innuendos were purposeful. This one, with “feeling” Anous, and how she referred to bodysnatching as “being inside someone.”

“All’s well that ends well, though. I mean I’m kinda glad not to have met him,” Imogen said. “Anous’s behavior sounded scary.”

“Anuses are terrifying,” I said.

Imogen squinched up her face in disgust, which amused me.

“Okay, so if we rule out Anous, do we walk around looking for the other four suspects?” Imogen asked. “Is there a better way to find out if they’re in town? Do you remember them all?”

Charlie Davis, Guy Jones, Ryan Taylor, and Anne Moore—I honestly had no recollection of any of them. None had left the kind of impression Anous had.

“Unfortunate we don’t have photos,” I said. Their names were all fairly generic, meaning an online search would lead to pages and pages of the wrong people.

“So you don’t remember them?” Imogen asked.

“No.”

“That is unfortunate. Wouldn’t it be nice if this whole thing was a misunderstanding?”

“If we misunderstood someone having murdered me?”

“I mean, it’d be good if it was an accident, and there was no bad guy. You never know.”

That was a ridiculous idea. I pressed my lips together so as not to say something that would make Imogen cry.

Instead, I pulled out the list of passengers Rose had gotten me from the train station.

“What’s that?” Imogen asked.

“Everyone who was on the same train as Nie.” It must have been a packed ride compared to the near-empty train I’d ridden on. Why was that exactly? It had been a similar time of day, and the exact same day of the week.

I found a match.

Guy Jones was on both lists.

The address printed for him on the ticket registry was outside Piccadilly, not inside Nevermore, just as Imogen had said.

I looked at Imogen’s notes. Guy had a straight face next to him, the lowest level of suspicion. The percentage was listed as eighteen. The note readthrew a toddler tantrum.

“What can you tell me about Guy Jones?” I asked.

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