Page 47 of Murder By the Millions
“Why would he have it in for you?” Chloe asked.
Good question. I’d never catered for Iggie or his wife. Neither frequented the bookshop.
“Why was everyone in town dining at the Brewery on a Monday?” Tegan asked.
“The Charlotte Knights were playing. All the TVs were tuned to the game. You know, I’ve seen Iggie walking a German shepherd. Doesn’t he live near the estates?”
“I think you’re right.” Tegan swatted the handle on the trolley, as if landing on a new theory. “Let’s circle back to Reika. What if the murder weapon isn’t yours? Suppose Reika swiped a spearpoint from the museum.”
“Or the killer did, meaning whoever killed him didn’t sneak into my place and steal it, but then why is it gone?” I stewed over the coincidence. “And what about my earring? One was definitely planted at the crime scene for the police to find.” I brought Chloe up to speed regarding the evidence.
“Is it possible Reika saw you lose it?” Chloe asked.
“Good question. If I were you”—Tegan pointed at me— “I’d have a chat with her.”
Bramblewood History Museum was situated in a two-story frame house built in the 1800s, across the street from the Congregational church and catty-corner to the sites Jason was going to purchase. The house was covered with beaded weather-board and featured two brick fireplaces. Black shutters around the windows gave the building a distinguished look.
The museum didn’t officially open until eleven, but the front door was unlocked, so I entered. The interior was well maintained, with recently refinished hardwood floors and beautiful Persian runners. To the left, a visitor could grab a map and view a display board pinned with details about upcoming events. The main hallway held a timeline of the development of Bramblewood and the Asheville area. Visitors could view all the artifacts, which were mounted or displayed in glass cases.
The kitchen to the left was always decorated as if dinner was about to be prepared. The rustic wooden table held antique pottery and tools. The fireplace was artificially aglow, and cookware stood at the ready. The living room to the right was similarly decked out, but the meal would be much fancier,served on a maple table fitted with dishes and glassware and a gorgeous lace tablecloth.
I peered into the glass case holding spearpoints to see if one of the spearpoints was missing, but I didn’t notice any empty spots, which didn’t mean anything. Reika might have a cache of items not on display. I recalled she’d come across all sorts of décor for theGatsbyparty in the attic.
“Allie, hello.” Reika passed through the archway leading to the kitchen. Her jacket, blouse, and skirt today were a dull beige. She’d added a chunky natural stone necklace for color. The aroma of her pungent perfume arrived before she did. “What brings you in? Do you want to see where we’ll be setting up the tea on Thursday?”
“No, I came because …” I stammered, unable to bring myself to grill her. “We’re friends, right? I mean, you come to the book clubs, and you’re helping with theGatsbyparty.”
“Yes, of course. Why do you ask?” The way she tilted her head reminded me of the plump nonmigratory songbird known as the Carolina wren.
“Because …” I scrutinized Reika’s face for any hint of malice but found none, making me hopeful she wasn’t the killer.
“Allie, are you all right?”
I forced the tension in my shoulders to ease before continuing. “Jason Gardner was killed.”
“Heavens.” She struggled for breath. “What a one-eighty from asking me if we were friends.”
“I didn’t want to blurt it outright.”
“How did he die?”
“He was stabbed with an artifact. A crystal quartz spearpoint particular to the Clovis tribe.”
“His death hasn’t been on the news. None of the staff has mentioned it, either. How do you know so much?”
“I found him.”
“My.” She covered her mouth with her fingertips. “You poor dear.”
“Zach … I mean Detective Armstrong will probably be asking you some questions.”
“About spearpoints?”
“Yes. Have you noticed any missing?” I didn’t mention mine could be the actual weapon.
She moved along the displays, assessing them as I had. “Each cabinet appears to be intact. Only the janitor and I have the keys to them.”
I trailed her. “Are there more in the attic?”
