Page 45
Story: Welcome to Murder Week
“I’m glad for that.” He leans forward, arms on the table. “And your mother, did she marry again?”
“No, but not for lack of trying,” I say. “She was addicted to falling in love. She found her soulmate many times. It never stuck. But she was always ready for another go.”
“You say that like it’s a character flaw, like there’s not something admirable about maintaining hope after defeat.”
“What’s that definition of insanity, doing the same thing again and again and hoping for a different result?”
“I guess it might be a little crazy, but it’s wonderfully optimistic, don’t you think?”
I cock my head, like I’m thinking about it, and say, “Nope.”
He laughs. He tips back in his chair, balancing it on two legs, like a teenager.
“You’re not a searcher like your mother?”
“I’m nothing like my mother,” I say quickly, so quickly that I’m a little embarrassed. “Although I am searching for something.”
He lets the chair tip back down. “And what’s that?”
“A murderer,” I whisper.
“Ah, right.” He sips his tea, looks right at me. He’s smiling. “I have faith that you’ll find him.”
“Are you assuming that it’s a man, or do you know something?”
“Moi?” he says in mock alarm. “I know nothing, other than how to make an inordinate number of gin cocktails. There’s nothing nefarious about me at all.” He wiggles his eyebrows dramatically. “Unless, of course, there is.”
“Prove it. Where were you between eight and ten the night Tracy was murdered?”
He bites his lip, an exaggerated expression of nervousness.
“I was helping out at The Lonely Spider, remember?”
“But that was early, and over by eight thirty,” I say. “What about your whereabouts afterward?”
“My whereabouts? Is that a technical sleuthing term?”
“Answer the question, please.”
“I came home and took a shower.”
“Can anyone corroborate that?”
“I should hope not. I generally bathe alone.”
“No one was aware that you were showering?”
“Are you implying someone was spying on me?”
“It could happen.” I try to sound flippant, but I know I’m blushing. “And after your shower?”
“I went to work.”
“You do realize I’m going to have to verify that, right?”
“I’m aware. Now, can I askyoua question?” Dev says. “Do you want to take a brief murder vacation?”
“Isn’t that what I’m on?”
“No, but not for lack of trying,” I say. “She was addicted to falling in love. She found her soulmate many times. It never stuck. But she was always ready for another go.”
“You say that like it’s a character flaw, like there’s not something admirable about maintaining hope after defeat.”
“What’s that definition of insanity, doing the same thing again and again and hoping for a different result?”
“I guess it might be a little crazy, but it’s wonderfully optimistic, don’t you think?”
I cock my head, like I’m thinking about it, and say, “Nope.”
He laughs. He tips back in his chair, balancing it on two legs, like a teenager.
“You’re not a searcher like your mother?”
“I’m nothing like my mother,” I say quickly, so quickly that I’m a little embarrassed. “Although I am searching for something.”
He lets the chair tip back down. “And what’s that?”
“A murderer,” I whisper.
“Ah, right.” He sips his tea, looks right at me. He’s smiling. “I have faith that you’ll find him.”
“Are you assuming that it’s a man, or do you know something?”
“Moi?” he says in mock alarm. “I know nothing, other than how to make an inordinate number of gin cocktails. There’s nothing nefarious about me at all.” He wiggles his eyebrows dramatically. “Unless, of course, there is.”
“Prove it. Where were you between eight and ten the night Tracy was murdered?”
He bites his lip, an exaggerated expression of nervousness.
“I was helping out at The Lonely Spider, remember?”
“But that was early, and over by eight thirty,” I say. “What about your whereabouts afterward?”
“My whereabouts? Is that a technical sleuthing term?”
“Answer the question, please.”
“I came home and took a shower.”
“Can anyone corroborate that?”
“I should hope not. I generally bathe alone.”
“No one was aware that you were showering?”
“Are you implying someone was spying on me?”
“It could happen.” I try to sound flippant, but I know I’m blushing. “And after your shower?”
“I went to work.”
“You do realize I’m going to have to verify that, right?”
“I’m aware. Now, can I askyoua question?” Dev says. “Do you want to take a brief murder vacation?”
“Isn’t that what I’m on?”
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