Page 42 of Dead & Breakfast
“No, I can’t comment on the situation. No, I can’t confirm that. Call back on Monday, I’m begging you.”
By Monday, the whole town would know the mayor had been murdered, if they didn’t already. Arthur glanced meaningfully at Sal, but he was too busy balancing the takeout containers they’d procured from Down to Pho, the local Vietnamese restaurant. Arthur hoped their offering would serve as a sufficient bribe for the monumental favor they were about to ask of Nora.
Arthur hadn’t forgotten his suspicions about Nora and Quinn. It was entirely possible they were both guilty, each committing half the crime. Quinn could’ve killed the mayor before the event at the inn while Nora did the work to move and stage the body. He rather liked the theory, if only because it felt twisty and exciting, like something out of a novel, but Arthur had to admit the pieces didn’t quite fit. If they’d managed to pull off something as elaborate as the mayor’s murder, why couldn’t they work together for more than thirty seconds? He needed more information. Then, hopefully, he could dismiss them as suspects for good.
“Thanks, guys,” Nora said when they entered her office. She sat behind a large desk covered by papers and files, a laptop in the center. “I wasn’t sure I would have time to go out and get anything. Citycouncil wants a press conference later today about George Roth’s death, and I’m trying to figure out what to say other than he was very disorganized and apparently really hated paranormals.”
“Yes, we know,” Arthur said. “Well. About the second thing. He ran on a campaign of keeping Trident Falls normal.”
Nora rolled her eyes as she accepted the food from Salvatore. “His death was a tragedy, but I can’t say I’m sad to see him out of politics—although, according to some of his notes, maybe he was coming around a bit on the paranormal situation.”
Salvatore choked. “That doesn’t seem likely.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so either until I gave my presentation the other night.” Nora shrugged and pried open the lid on her pho. “But I found some notes he made about my plan for the city. I think my proposal got through to him—or at least the economic benefits of it. If there’s one thing George Roth hated more than paranormals, it was a deficit.” She riffled through the files on the desk and produced a legal pad covered in scribbles.
“Is this a pro/con list?” Arthur asked, serotonin flooding his senses at the very thought. “With…more pros than cons?”
“And a positive economic projection.” Nora set the pad down. “I think he might have actually gone for my proposal if he hadn’t been murdered.”
“Speaking of his murder,” Arthur said, glancing over his shoulder to check the door was still shut and no nosy reporters were listening in, “we came here to ask a favor.” It was a risk, looping Nora into the investigation in such a big way, but it couldn’t be helped. Besides, they could learn just as much from her reactions as they could from the video footage.
“About the case?” Nora paused, about to dump an indecent amount of cilantro into her pho. Arthur couldn’t understand why anyone ate cilantro; it tasted like soap.
“Yes, we’re here to examine the security footage from the park the night of the murder. We discovered it’s the crime scene, you see,” Salvatore said with a dramatic flourish of his hands.
Nora ate as Arthur quickly filled her in on select new facts, namely, that the Iris Inn was no longer the scene of a murder and that they’d found a suspicious pool of blood in the park. He tried to be as vague as possible, all the while watching Nora closely.
“I can call down to the security office,” Nora said when he was done. Her face revealed no signs of guilt, though it did bear a single cilantro leaf just to the left of her lips. “It’s on the first floor. I’ll tell them you’re coming.”
“You’re not accompanying us?” If shewasguilty, surely she would be curious to see the tape for herself. Or perhaps her calm demeanor was because she already knew it showed nothing incriminating.
“Sorry, but I just don’t have time.”
“Are you…sure?”
Nora narrowed her eyes. “Why…?”
“No reason!” Arthur said in a hurry. “It’s just video footage of a possible murderer. Why would you need to see that?”
“Yeah, it’s not likeyou’rethe killer, right?” Salvatore asked with all the subtlety of a jackhammer.
Nora cocked her head. “Wait…do you suspect me?”
“Of course not!” Arthur exclaimed, but it was too late. Sal’s voice was much louder and his words far more interesting.
“Well, it’s just that you and Quinny seem to be hiding something, so obviously we thought it must be murder.”
“Oh my god. You have got to be kidding me,” Nora muttered under her breath. “I promise you, Quinn and I had nothing to do with this.”
“Oh? And you’ll vouch for Quinn?”
Nora stared at him, a deer caught in headlights, or perhaps caught in a trap of her own making. Then she swallowed hard and said, “Look. Quinn may not be my favorite person, but she’s not a killer and neither am I. It’s just that we…” She trailed off, eyes darting from Arthur to Sal and back again. “Wait a minute. You think we were in on thistogether?”
Arthur shrugged. “Hating each other is a fairly good deterrent for suspicion of teamwork, isn’t it?”
“I mean, I guess, but really? We can’t even get together on the wording of an email, let alone align our schedules, alibis, and motives well enough to commit a murder.”
“She has a point,” Sal said in a loud whisper. “Perhaps we should give it a rest?”
