In any case, massage or no massage, it was time to get to work. “Well, I’m really sorry. About Andrea, I mean. I didn’t know her or anything, but she seemed really nice.”
“Oh, she was lovely. The sweetest person,” Rose assured me. “I’m certain her light will shine brightly upon us from the stars.”
Alrighty then. “Of course,” I agreed cheerfully. “But it’s just so sad. She was so young. How did she die?” I moaned as Rose hit a particularly sore spot right below my right shoulder blade.
“Breathe deeply,” Rose reminded me. I complied, hoping she’d say more. She didn’t disappoint. “I really shouldn’t be talking about something so negative,” she said, “but it’s shocking, you know? They say,” she lowered her voice as if imparting a great secret, “that Andrea was murdered.”
“Oh, that’s ghastly,” I agreed softly, voice barely above a whisper. “That poor dear. Why would anyone want to murder that sweet girl?” I knew nothing about Andrea except that Becky the bartender had liked her and Kyle had dated her, but I figured saying nice things about Andrea would get me far with Rose and her positivity.
She didn’t disappoint. “Well, if you ask me, it’s something to do with the murder of that writer lady.”
“Natasha Winters?”
I could feel her shrug. “I guess so.”
“What would Andrea have to do with Natasha’s murder? Did they know each other?”
“I don’t think so, but the night before she died, Andrea told me she knew something.”
“About the murder?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Knew what exactly?” I asked eagerly.
“She didn’t say,” Rose said.
Disappointment flooded me.
“But I’m guessing she knew something about the murder. Something she didn’t tell the police. That would be just like Andrea. She doesn’t like to get people in trouble.” Her tone turned dark. “Even if they deserve it.”
“You think she knew who the killer was?”
I felt Rose shrug again. “Who knows? And now she’s gone, we’ll never know, will we? Now, deep breath. Let’s focus on you.”
I got no more information out of Rose. But my mind was in a whirl. Andrea had claimed to know something about the murder, and now she was dead. The question was: what did she know? I needed to find out and fast.
Chapter 14
Checking the Angles
I CAME OUT OF MY MASSAGE feeling like melted butter. Relaxed didn’t even begin to describe it. I was all ready to go park my backside in one of the beach cabanas—one of the ones that hadn’t contained a dead body recently—when I found my pathway blocked by a grim-looking man in a rumpled suit.
“Detective Costa, good morning,” I said brightly, glad I was wearing my sunglasses so he wouldn’t see my death glare. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” I might have said it a little more sarcastically than necessary.
His eyes narrowed, and he glowered down at me like he’d very much like to handcuff me and throw me in a deep, dark hole somewhere. “I think you know why I’m here, Ms. Roberts.”
“Enlighten me.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Why were you at the Don CeSar last night? The truth.”
I shrugged and turned to pad in the opposite direction of the beach. I had no idea where I was going, but I wasn’t going to stand there and let Costa get all up in my personal space, accusing me of things I didn’t do. I was getting mighty sick and tired of it. “Cheryl and I were taking a walk on the beach last night. We saw a crowd near the hotel and were curious. That’s all. Nothing sinister.”
“You sure take a lot of walks on the beach,” he said. I turned and slid my glasses down my nose to give him an exasperated look. “We’re in Florida. On the beach. That’s what people do. Especially after they’ve been sitting in lectures all day.”
“I just find it interesting that you spent the afternoon at the hotel for a ghost tour and nearly managed to get yourself killed, only to turn around and return in the evening. Right after someone else is killed.”
I snorted. “You actually think I’d be dumb enough to kill someone at the very spot I nearly got murdered? And on the same day no less?”
“In my experience, murderers often do dumb things.”
I barked out a laugh. “Clearly, you haven’t met any good murderers.” Neither had I, as far as I knew.
“Are you admitting something, Ms. Roberts?”
I whirled on him. “Don’t be an idiot,” I snapped. “You know darn good and well I had nothing to do with either of the murders. And if you think I did, well, you’ve got fewer brains than I gave you credit for.” Okay, so snapping at a homicide detective who suspected you of murder probably wasn’t the best plan, but he was really getting on my last nerve.
“I don’t suppose you have an alibi?” he snarled, his eyes shards of ice.
“Well, how do I know? When did Andrea die?”
“So you know the murder victim!” He all but shouted Ah ha! It would have been funny if I hadn’t been so annoyed.
I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “No. I didn’t. But this is a small island. Word travels fast. By the time we got back to the Fairwinds last night, everyone here had already heard the news. Believe me, I’d have to be stupid and deaf not to know who the victim was. Now, time of death?”
He sighed. “Ten minutes past seven in the evening.”
“That’s very precise.”
“A guest heard a scream and, a moment later, saw the victim tumble down the stairs. So, yes. Very precise.” He eyed me suspiciously, waiting to pounce on me for a weak alibi, no doubt.
“Well, if you must know, I was sitting in a lecture hall listening to the last talk of the evening. There
