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“No,” she said. “Just fast and wanted it to be over as fast as possible. But so far as I can tell, he was going to keep his word. He came by with a few bags of groceries just a week ago. Enough to get me through for about a month. I’m not proud of what I was doing but…well, I hadn’t seen so many groceries at one time before. And I’m wondering now…what kind of a woman does it make me that I’m mad about him being dead?”
As Ava watched the woman wrestle with this on the verge of tears, it made sense why the men they’d met claimed they thought Harriet looked scared. She was scared they’d find out. And she was ashamed of what he was doing—simply because of the act of it and because her husband had just recently died.
And all the while, with this new information about Monty Lincoln, she thought she had a good idea who the killer was. They knew now that Monty had been sleeping with Harriet and that he’d been doing his best to get Ma’s attention. Based on that, as well as Monty’s wealth and ego, Ava thought it was safe to assume he had other black mistresses somewhere out in Harlem. Maybe part of his business venture was to also keep an eye out for women that interested him.
Seeing a clearly struggling woman and her baby in front of her, Ava felt a bit like a monster as her thoughts were already moving on. But she had a job to do and a man to keep out of prison—and they were quickly running out of time.
“Was there nothing left behind from your husband?” Ava asked.
“Oh, there was a bit saved up, but it won’t last me two months. If that. I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Would you mind if I came by to check in on you?” Ava asked. “As I said, I have a son. And I also lost a husband recently—not so recent as you, but it still hurts.”
Harriet seemed shocked by this but nodded. “Well, yes, ma’am, that would be fine. Thank you.”
“Of course. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have to go. We have a killer to catch…a killer that, believe it or not, you may have helped us identify.”
“Mr. Lincoln’s killer?”
“That’s right.”
Nodding, she said, “Well, best of luck to you.”
“And to you, too,” Ava said. And with that, she gave a polite nod and headed for the door. Her heart broke for Harriet but it was also beating wildly with the knowledge that Monty Lincoln’s killer might very well be waiting for them in the very home in which he’d once resided.