“Here.”
I blinked and turned to face him, startled out of my musings. Peter held out a small leather satchel. “Your payment.”
“Ah.” I hesitated a moment, then took the bag and gave it a little shake. Coins jingled inside. “Thanks.” I sighed. “My landlady probably heard that. It’ll only be a matter of moments until she shows up to take this.” Still. It was a good thing to not be evicted.
Then why did I feel so… disappointed?
“Hey.”
Peter looked up.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the payment, and as much as I hate to agree with your dog, but….” I lifted a brow. “I’m not sure Martin Shaw is guilty.”
Peter let out a heavy sigh and glanced to the side.
“I think we should keep looking into this.” I couldn’t believe the words had come out of my mouth. I had my payment—walk away, Jolene! Old me totally would have. Yet here I was, pushing to do more work? What had washed over me?
Peter shook his head. “You heard the inspector. The case is closed.”
I lifted a palm. “Yeah, but why would he kill her?” I tilted my head. “The first death, Bim, might have been a crime of passion. But this? This was premeditated. He already knew the police were looking into him, why risk another murder?”
Peter shrugged. “Maybe he was worried someone would still be turning on the sign?”
I shook my head. “Then why go for the secretary? If it were me, I’d take out Turk himself. If the business goes under—no sign anymore.”
He lifted his palms. “Look, I don’t disagree with you, but—” He gave a small shake of his head. “But there’s nothing else I can do now. The case is closed, there’s a lot of evidence against him, and now it’s up to the justice system to see if it’s enough to convict.” He stared me in the eyes. “We’ve done our jobs.”
Huh. So it really was over.
He dipped his chin. “See you around?”
I nodded, my throat tight. “See you around.”
He started off, Daisy in tow. She gave me a growl as she prowled past. See ya never.
I barked at her, but disguised it as a cough. I’m going to get you a muzzle.
She swung her head back to glare at me, and I wiggled my fingers in a wave. She and Peter joined the other cops and marched Martin Shaw toward the jail at the top of the mountain.
Who was I kidding? I’d even miss that grumpy fleabag of a dog.
I yanked my door open and trudged upstairs. I pushed through the beaded curtain, tossed the satchel of coins on the kitchen counter, then threw myself onto my couch. Had to say, I hadn’t really missed this place. It was good to get out in the world with Peter.
I sighed as I slumped down into the worn cushions and folded my hands on my stomach. I hadn’t realized how deep of a rut I’d been in until Peter came along and pulled me out of it. The experience had been—invigorating. It reminded me of back when I was practicing law—the thrill of helping people and seeing justice done.
I rolled onto my side and considered using a couple merkles to buy some ice cream from one of the carts downstairs and binging. A couple of days ago, I would’ve indulged without hesitation, but now… it didn’t quite feel right to numb out like that. I bit my lip. How could I go back to the monotonous, run-down life I’d been living?
I sat upright. Maybe, I wouldn’t have to… yet, at least. I jumped to my feet and paced back and forth in front of the sofa. I had a strong feeling the cops had arrested the wrong guy, which meant the killer was still out there. Peter might not be able to look into it further, but that didn’t have to stop me.
I grinned as I walked off some of my nervous energy. I knew I wouldn’t earn any extra money and was under no obligation but… I wanted to investigate more. My grin widened. It’d been a long time since I’d actually been excited about something.
I strode to the kitchen and found a short bit of blank scroll and my old quill in a drawer, then set myself up at the table with its velvet cloth. I slid my headphones on, clicked the play button, and let those sweet ocean sounds wash over me. Anything to tune out Gary the cockroach’s musings from the cupboard about whether cat or dog fur tastes better. Ugh.
With waves crashing in my ears, my hand trembled slightly as I began to jot down the suspects. Just like when I’d been a lawyer, I’d write out all the facts and my thoughts and hope some pattern emerged that would lead me to the killer.
32
ANOTHER RUNNER IN THE NIGHT
“Urg.” I set down the quill, tossed my headphones aside, and plunked my head into my hands. A bass beat from the bar below thumped in rhythm with the throbbing in my temple, while shouts and faint strains of music wafted in through the open front windows.
I dragged my hands down my face and yawned. On the scroll before me, an elaborate web of names, places, and motivations sat connected by lines and circles. I blinked my burning eyes and gave myself a little shake.
I’d been here at my kitchen table for hours, trying to work out who’d really killed Bim and Zozanna. I yawned again, then groaned. That chipper dummy Peter. He’d gotten me into somewhat of a day schedule, and now, in the wee hours when I’d normally have been wide awake with the bustling Darkmoon Night Market, I could barely keep my eyes open.
I pushed to my feet and paced back and forth from the living room to the kitchen. A couple of my spider roommates whisper-sang creepy little ditties, and out in the hall a few rats dished about the
