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“What’s the significance of your sister’s favorite color?” He wiped his mouth with a paper towel and crumpled it in his hand. “I have those files you asked for, by the way. I pulled them out of my garage when I got home.”
“Red. We found red fibers on Missy, just like at Morgan’s crime scene. Missy had them under her fingernails, and I discovered more in the area. Tiffany’s favorite color was red. The sympathy card references red. Maybe there’s some significance there. Neither of the women was wearing anything red, so it didn’t come from them.”
Finn said, “It’s a reach.”
At least he hadn’t rolled his eyes. “I know that, but I’m looking at everything through the lens of Tiffany’s case. For whatever reason, whether this guy murdered Tiffany or not, he’s got a thing for her homicide. He duplicated it with these two victims—same manner of death, same location, and he’s involving me in his crime spree.
He aimed his chopsticks at the kitchen counter behind her. “More food? I forgot I bought egg rolls, too.”
“No, I’m good.” She stretched and finished her glass of wine. “I’ll clean up in here while you bring in the box. We can look at it on this table?”
“That works.”
Finn pushed back from the table, and she collected the dishes, rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher. Jessica closed up the boxes of leftover food and stacked them in the fridge, which seemed fairly well stocked for a bachelor.
Bodhi kept her company, hoping for a stray morsel offood, and she obliged with several. As she held the paper bag, greasy with the eggrolls inside, Finn walked past her and snatched the bag from her hand.
“I’m gonna need at least one of these with my second glass of wine. I can’t drink the stuff without food.” He dumped the egg rolls onto a plate and popped the lids on the sweet-and-sour sauce and spicy mustard. He then grabbed the bottle of wine from the fridge and returned to the table to fill their glasses.
Her pulse jumped when she saw the cardboard box on the floor next to the table. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she said, “I’m ready.”
As he sat next to her at the table and kicked the lid off the box, he said, “I have…crime scene photos in here. I can separate them, if you like.”
“I’ve seen them before, but you can leave them in the box as long as there’s a list of Tiffany’s clothing.” She took a gulp of wine.
“There is. I’ll have a look at the people the detectives questioned, too. Maybe Deke’s one of them.” He bent over, shuffling through the files in the box. He dropped a couple of folders on the table, and little puffs of dust made her sneeze.
“Sorry about that.” He hopped up from his seat and grabbed a few paper towels from the kitchen. When he sat down, he wiped down both folders, front and back.
He shoved one toward her with his finger. “You should be able to find her clothing in there.”
Her hand trembled slightly when she reached for the file. Holding her breath, she flipped it open. Words, just words. Neatly typed words on a page to summarize a whole life.
She skimmed the first few pages until she came to adescription of the body at the scene. She skipped the gruesome details, which she could recite by heart anyway, and zeroed in on the items her sister was wearing. Pictures of the clothing followed.
Jessica smiled at the skinny jeans with embroidery on the pocket. Tiffany loved those jeans. She’d paired them with a white midriff top, which superthin Tiffany could carry off, and a denim trucker jacket with more embroidery on the back—none of it in red. She finished off the outfit with a pair of white wedge sneakers.
Jessica slumped in her chair and took another slug of wine. “Nothing red. No red fibers found on her body, either. Did Deke’s name come up?”
Finn held up a piece of paper with names printed out in different groups. He shook it in the air. “He’s listed under coworkers.”
“Wow, so hedidknow Tiffany. This is significant. Any notes on his interview?”
“Looking at this, it doesn’t seem as if her coworkers were grilled. Probably someone talked to them in a group—Tiffany complain about anyone, anyone hanging around her—those kinds of questions. Unless one of them had something interesting to add, they probably weren’t questioned further.”
“If Deke killed her, he wouldn’t have been drawing attention to himself. It could be him, Finn.”
“When I called Detective Morse this afternoon, I did mention that Deke may have worked with Tiffany back when she was murdered. He’s a good detective. He’ll discover this. My guess is that Deke has an interview with the sheriff’s department in his future.”
“You should’ve never given up police work.” She pinchedan egg roll between her fingers and dipped it in the red sauce.
“Wasn’t for me. You know better than anyone, I couldn’t follow the rules.” He swirled his wine in his glass. “After all, I broke them for you.”
“I don’t think you’re the kind of person who would do something unless you wanted to do it. I didn’t think it then; I don’t think it now.” She crunched into her egg roll with her teeth.
“Oh, I wanted to do it. I wanted to do it for you. There was probably nothing I wouldn’t have done for you…at the time.”
She dabbed her mouth. “And now?”