I mentally rolled my eyes. Could he be taking up any more room? This was a man who wanted us to know he was king of the “castle.”
He nodded at Peter, but completely ignored me. “What do you want to know?” A diamond glinted in his ear, the buttons of his shirt bulging at the stomach.
Oh, brother. This guy looked like a walking midlife crisis to me.
Peter leaned forward, and the plastic cover creaked under him. “Do you know where Bim developed her pictures?”
Millie let out a strangled cough and excused herself into the kitchen. I frowned after her as she busied herself by loudly opening and closing cupboards. Odd reaction.
Turk sniffed. “She has—” His expression soured. “Had a darkroom at the office. In the back storeroom.”
Peter licked his lips. “Did she buy her own supplies?”
The business owner scoffed. “No, I provided them, of course.”
Peter and I exchanged puzzled looks. Then why had we found a receipt for supplies at her apartment?
“Do you know of any other locations Bim might have developed photographs? Was she part of a photography club, maybe?” Peter cocked his head.
Turk’s dark, bushy brows drew together and he shifted in his seat. “Not that I know of… then again, I didn’t know she was going to the office late at night and taking photos, either.” He rubbed his scruffy chin, his worried eyes distant.
Daisy looked up at Peter behind her and wagged her big, bushy tail. Guess Turk was telling the truth.
I tilted my head. Bim taking pictures at the office seemed to bother him. Then again, it was his business. It was probably a shock to discover your murdered employee had been sneaking in after hours.
“Did Bim have a boyfriend?” Peter leaned his elbows on his knees. “Any relatives she mentioned? Hobbies? Where’d she work before this job?”
“No boyfriend.” Turk shook his head. As he continued to answer Peter’s questions, I rose, the sofa cover squeaking under me.
“Restroom?” I lifted a finger.
“Oh, uh—” Turk frowned, then thumbed over his shoulder. “Down the hall, second door on the right.”
“Thanks.” I nodded and moved down the dark hall as Millie continued to bang away in the kitchen.
I did need to use the facilities, but figured it’d give me a good excuse to snoop while I was at it. I mean, Peter might be limited in some respects by the rules of police procedure—but I was just a “pet psychic” consultant, which meant those rules didn’t apply to me.
After I’d used the bathroom, which reeked of baby powder and featured way too many dolls with magically blinking eyes (did anyone want to be watched by a horde of dolls on the toilet?), I peeked down the hall. Peter and Turk’s voices drifted my way, and dishes still clinked in the kitchen.
I brazenly broke the rules by creeping on the lush white carpet instead of the plastic runner and peeked into one room. A massive, carved gilded desk sat in the middle of the study. I eased the door closed and tried the next one.
I looked into a tidy bedroom with a neatly made bed in the center. I frowned. A twin bed. I took a few steps inside. The beaded lampshade and frilly bedsheets made me suspect this was Millie’s room. I cocked my head at the black envelope sticking out from under the pillow. Huh.
A loud clank startled me, and I dashed back out, easing the door closed behind me.
I glanced down the hall, just to make sure the coast was still clear, my heart thundering in my chest. I then eased open the door across the hall. A darker, messier room with another twin bed lay inside, belts and watches littering the nightstand. This must be Turk’s.
I bit my lip, closed the door, and padded back to rejoin Peter before anyone got suspicious of my long absence. Peter gave me a quick smile as I sat back down beside him. He and Turk continued their conversation, but I was lost in my own thoughts.
Separate bedrooms might just mean one of them was a wicked snorer. But it could also mean there was trouble in marital paradise.
I glanced up at the wedding pictures on the wall above Turk’s head. They looked to be in their twenties in the photos, which mean they’d been married awhile, probably going on fifteen, maybe twenty years.
“She started at the company about four years ago…”
As Turk answered some question of Peter’s, he played with the rings on his fingers. He wore several large ones, all gold, one with a ruby in the center. I narrowed my eyes. As he twisted the one with the ruby on his left hand, I noticed that he wore it on his middle finger. Was he not wearing his wedding ring?
I ran over the events of last night in my head. He and Millie had come in together, followed by Zozanna the secretary. Zo, as Turk had called her, had seemed upset. But not in the way I would have expected. There were no tears for her murdered coworker, and she hadn’t seemed particularly sad… more like she was angry.
I smirked, the pieces fitting together into a strong suspicion. After a quick glance at Peter and Turk, who were deep in conversation, I leaned forward and whined out of the corner of my mouth. Daisy.
The dog whipped her head around to look at me. She huffed. I keep forgetting you can do that.
Yeah, well, get used to it. I let out a few quiet woofs. We’re going to test your powers here, so be ready.
She cocked her head, black brows raised. Huh?
I ignored her and sat straighter.
Turk rolled a beefy hand. “She was always friendly, but didn’t share much about her personal—”
“Turk,” I interrupted.
He turned to me, expression puzzled.
“Were you and Zozanna having an affair?”
19
