Page 65 of Murder By the Millions
“It’s a beautiful morning,” I said when I caught up to him.
He forced his face to go neutral. “It is.”
“Listen, about me being at the history museum …”
“You have every right to visit our town’s establishments.” He started to pivot.
I tapped his arm. “Hold up. How is the investigation going?”
He swiveled back, the peeved look replanted on his face. “Allie, look, I can’t talk about it.”
“Because I’m a suspect?”
“I can’t talk about it,” he repeated like a robot on auto- repeat.
“Would you at least tell me whether you consider Patrick Hardwick a suspect?”
He didn’t answer.
“What about Ignatius Luckenbill?”
“Ignatius Luckenbill is dead.”
“I meant Junior, and you know it. Iggie the second. Is he on your radar?” When he didn’t respond, I continued. “I heard him say to Finette if anybody was going to develop the historic properties Jason was bargaining for, it would be him.”
“I’ll bet lots of developers have said something similar.”
“According to Noeline and Vanna, Iggie has a bad reputation for maligning his competitors.”
“It is not against the law to malign another person as long as no action occurs. You’ve heard of freedom of speech. Nor is it against the law to crow about one’s intentions.”
His curt responses were getting under my skin, but I pressed on. “Did you ask about his alibi for Monday night?”
“I knew it.”
“He has an alibi?”
“No.” He sighed. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. You’d poke into things and come up with theories, like you did last time.”
“Last time, my best friend was your main suspect. This time, I am.”
“As a matter of fact, you are. You’ve got means, motive, and opportunity, and there was evidence of a struggle.”
With my missing earring to show for it,I thought miserably. “Look, if you want to arrest me, arrest me.” Brazenly, I jutted out my arms, wrists together. When he didn’t latch cuffs on them, I breathed easier. “I’m not going to sit idle and let you do all the investigating when my neck is on the line. I told you, as a caterer and baker, I’m attuned to details. If I come across a clue, I’ll share it.”
“Allie …” He scrubbed one side of his head with his fingertips, clearly reluctant to say more.
“Go on. Something is eating at you. Speak. I’m tough. I can take it.” I folded my arms, waiting.
He shifted feet and switched the to-go bag to his other hand.
“It’s the kiss, right?” I blurted. “You’re upset we kissed. Well, I’m equally disturbed. We shouldn’t have done it. I wish we hadn’t. We had a good friendship going. But now you can’t even talk to me or look me in the eyes. I’m sorry. I’m to blame. I was too forward. I—”
“Stop.” He rested a fingertip on my lips and, probably realizing how intimate an act it was, quickly lowered it. “When this investigation is over—”
“When you find the real killer, who is not me.”
“When that happens, we’ll talk. Until then—” He squinted one eye. It wasn’t a wink. It was a warning. “Let me do my job.”
