Harper’s mouth fell open. She snapped it shut. “Are you saying you would’ve been willing to commit murder if Mr. Thompson told you to?”
“I believe in the cause that much.”
Liam’s jaw hurt from clenching his teeth. “Who did?”
The name he gave matched one of the deceased. “Now, my life is in danger. What are you going to do about it?”
“Unfortunately, nothing. You made your bed, Mr. Carter. Now lay in it.” Liam waved at the mirror for the man to be removed and Mr. Preston brought in.
Before they could question him, the chief entered the room and told them they had a homicide. He slapped an address in front of them. “Mr. Preston will have to wait.”
“My family? Are they dead?” His gaze whipped back and forth.
“No. It isn’t your family.” He spun and left.
Harper followed, Liam on her heels. Lights flashing and sirens blaring, they sped to where police had a residential street blocked off.
Harper parked beside a squad car. Liam and she ducked under the crime scene tape and marched toward a red brick house with black shutters.
Annie met them on the porch. “It isn’t pretty.” She handed them gloves and slippers. “Victim’s name is Gloria Bomber. Age fifty-five. A neighbor walked by and saw the door open, but no sign of Ms. Bomber. Thinking her to be inside, a…” she flipped through a couple of notes. “Mrs. Young went in and found her right inside the entrance.”
“The neighbor here?” Liam glanced around.
“The woman leaning against my car. I told her you’d want to speak with her.”
“Thanks, Annie.” Harper moved past Liam as he snapped his last glove into place.
The victim lay on a mosaic-tiled floor with a pair of garden shears poking from her chest. Her eyes had been cut from her face and put in a glass with a daisy.
“This isn’t because of a supposed sin.” He glanced into a living room, then a dining room. “This is something else.”
“Considering the eyes were removed, I’m guessing she saw something she shouldn’t.” Harper hunkered next to the body. “This is only a guess, but what if she was pruning her bushes and saw something?”
“Which means she would’ve seen something close.” Liam darted outside. “No one leaves this street! Absolutely no one.”
He marched to Mrs. Young. Her story matched what Annie had told her.
“Which house is yours, Mrs. Young?”
“That one.” She pointed across the street. “My husband and I are newlyweds. We’re renting. Ms. Bomber was so nice to us.”
“Do you know the rest of the neighbors?”
“No. I’m normally at work. The only reason I know Ms. Bomber is because she brought us a plant when we moved in. The other neighbors seem to stick to themselves. Can I go now? I’m about to fall to pieces.”
Liam released her with an order not to leave town or the street until she received permission. He studied each of the houses, all red brick. An assorted array of colors for shutters. Some doors had a window, some didn’t. Every yard landscaped differently. A beautiful, non-cookie cutter neighborhood.
One where either Robert, the assassin, or both were staying.
Chapter Six
Robert, wearing hisbest disguise ever, sipped a tea at the park across the street from the country club and tossed bird seed to the myriad of feathered friends that hopped at his feet. Who would expect a little old lady with bird pooh on her shoes to be searching for the next person who needed to pay?
Having lived among the country club set, he knew the right person would attract his attention. A person who had so much and thirsted for more.
The roar of a car engine drew his attention to the Mustang convertible that pulled into the parking lot. Three teenage girls climbed out, all leaving a heated kiss on the boy driving before practically skipping into the country club. The boy stayed until they were inside, then turned the car around and parked at the park.
Robert ducked his head, pretending to stir his tea with his finger. Not a gross practice he would actually do, but it allowed him to watch the young man. He recognized him as he strolled closer. The mayor’s son, Reynold Sharpe.