Page 42 of Murder By the Millions
“As far as I know, only my sister has it in for you.” Tegan smirked. “Are you the killer, Vanna?”
Vanna stuck her tongue out.
“What other clues did you notice?” Tegan asked.
I fished my cell phone from my purse and opened the Photos app. I showed them some of the pictures I’d taken—not of Jason’s body, of course—gave them a recap of what I’d noticed, and told them that I’d theorized Jason was reaching for his phone because he’d mumbled the syllableDuhand the wordsheright before he died. “He might have wanted me to reach out to his ex-fiancée, Delilah.”
Vanna said, “How heartbreaking.”
“Hey.” Tegan raised a finger. “What if she’s in town, and she killed him?”
I hadn’t considered the possibility. “Why would she? I mean, she’s married. Happily, he told me.” Actually, he hadn’t said she was happy, simply that she’d married well. Why had she and Jason broken up? Had she ended it before meeting her husband, or had he been the catalyst?
“InThe Great GatsbyDaisy came to him when bidden,” Tegan said. “It was the beginning of their downfall.”
I revisited Patrick taunting Jason, saying even if he built the mall, she wouldn’t come—she meaning Delilah. Why would Jason have believed she would?
I texted Zach and asked if he’d reached out to her. To my surprise, he reminded me immediately that it wasn’t my investigation.Snarky,I groused to myself and didn’t give him the pleasure of a reply.
Vanna took my phone and clicked on the Photos app. She gasped. “Is this him? Dead?”
I snatched the phone back. “Sorry. My bad.” I’d forgotten I’d captured a few shocking images. On the other hand, she’d been the curious cat.
“What’s the mud from?” she asked.
“I think Jason might have gone outside to look at the night sky, seen the killer, and raced through the moist gardens to escape.” I tapped a spoon on the rim of a bowl. “The texts.”
Tegan squinted. “Huh?”
“Zach didn’t believe Jason texted me, because they were erased from my phone, but I didn’t remove them.”
“Jason must have deleted the thread,” Vanna suggested.
“Zach said it was impossible. Unfortunately, we couldn’t open Jason’s phone to see how anything might have happened.”
“Look at us”—Tegan motioned to the group—“theorizing like we’re Allie’s clue crew.”
“Clue crew?” Vanna scoffed.
Tegan offered a sly smile. “I heard the term on a kids’ TV show—clue crew. Hey, we could make it go viral. Hashtag”— she mimed the number sign—“AlliesClueCrew. No apostrophe. The three words smooshed together. What do you think?”
“Be serious.”
“I’m deadly serious.”
When the baking was done, Vanna and I packed up everything in white pastry boxes with Dream Cuisine’s signature sage-green labels, and she and I headed off in separate directions. She would focus on Bramblewood deliveries. I would drive to Montford, specifically to the Blue Lantern.
After Noeline had purchased the bed-and-breakfast, she’d fixed it up to be one of the best inns in the area. It was designed in the Gothic Revival style, a variation of the Victorian architectural style, with steeply pitched roofs and lancet windows. The peacock-blue exterior color was a lovely contrast to the extravagant white vergeboard trim along the roof. Multiple lanterns hung from shepherd’s hooks. The springtime azaleas had shed their flowers, allowing summer blooms like petunias, zinnias, and black-eyed Susans to shine.
The temperature was still cool, so I left Darcy in his carrier in the van, a window open, and told him I’d return soon. Then I carried the box of poppy-seed muffins into the inn.
Helga, clad in her pale blue uniform fitted with broad white lapels and white cuffs, stopped dusting the foyer furniture and fixed me with a frown. “What is in the box?”
“Muffins. For the workmen. Where are they?”
“Allie, I can bake very well.”
“But you wouldn’t want to give them free muffins and cut into Noeline’s profits, would you?”
