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“What time were you there?” she asked, ignoring his question.
“All evening,” he muttered, clearly irritated. “I already told you that.”
“Theentireevening?”
“Yes.” He opened the door to the truck. “I actually have a job to get to, if you’ve finished with your inquisition.”
“So, just to be clear, on Friday evening you were in the Old Town Inn for the entire evening?”
“Yes! What the heck is your problem?”
“My problem is that someone tried to poison me. I’d like to know who it was. I’d also really love to know why you’re lying about where you were on Friday night.”
His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the door. “What makes you think I’m lying?”
“Because Kit Treneary was in the Old Town Inn on Friday evening, and he said he didn’t see you there.”
Denzel slammed the door so hard that Lily took an instinctive step backwards. “You’ve been talking to Kit Treneary about me?” he growled.
Lily squinted in confusion, because it didn’t seem as though getting caught out bothered him as much as the fact that it was Kit who’d blown his alibi. She’d been dismissive when Kit had said Denzel was annoyed with him, but she was starting to suspect that Kit had it right.
“What’s your problem with Kit?” she asked, tilting her head.
“I don’t have a problem with Kit.” Denzel took a deliberate breath, as though trying to calm his temper. “Look,” he said evenly. “Maybe I got the days mixed up. It might not have been Friday that I was in the Old Town Inn.”
“Where were you then?”
“At home, I guess.”
“At home, alone?”
“Yes. The last I heard that wasn’t a crime. Also, the last time I checked it was the police who were supposed to question people if they’re suspected of a crime. I don’t have to answer to you.” He opened the door again, climbed into the driver's seat, and pulled away.
As she ambled home, Lily turned her phone in her hand, desperate to call Flynn and tell him about her encounter with Denzel. She wasn’t sure if he was working, which annoyed her because usually he messaged her enough that she was aware of his schedule. Not knowing was a reminder that things weren’t quite right between them.
She was almost home when the phone vibrated in her hand. In the second before her gaze hit the screen, she felt a pang of anticipation, assuming that Flynn had telepathically known she was thinking about him and been compelled to call.
Except it wasn’t Flynn, and the disappointment she felt annoyed her immensely.
“Hello,” she said, answering the call from Gordon Pengelly.
“Hi, Lily.” His tone was clipped and business-like. “How are you?”
“Fine, thanks. And you?”
“Good,” he muttered. “Listen, this is a bit of an odd phone call, but I thought it best to get things out in the open. I’ve just had a visit from Sergeant Proctor.”
“Oh?” Lily said, a note of surprise in her voice that was entirely fake.
“Yes. We had a chat about a few things, mostly about those welcome baskets which I’m sure you’ve heard about.”
Lily gave a hum of acknowledgement.
“He also had a few questions about the produce I’ve been supplying to Dante Accardi for his restaurant.”
“Okay,” Lily said, wondering when he was going to get to the point.
“Your name came up,” he said, then cleared his throat.