Page 98 of Dead Man's List

He was. So was Betsy. Anything she said to either of them would never be repeated.

She obeyed, then settled back down in her chair to watch him carving the block of wood. It was soothing.

“Well, we have one suspect. All we know is that he’s got a neckbeard. We don’t even know if he really has one or it’s just a disguise.”

“Hard to get features if his face is covered in hair,” Harlan agreed. “Smart disguise. No one even thinks about looking at the rest of his face.”

“That’s right. So far he’s killed four people and maybe a fifth,” she said, thinking of the guard shack guy. “And that’s just this week. We’re out of leads except for the fact that he used a trailer to steal the first victim’s Ferrari.”

“And Bruce Goddard hasn’t been able to find it?”

“Nope. Nor the Rolex the first victim was wearing when he died. I want to believe the widow had nothing to do with it, but she was hinky, too. Says he hit her, so she ran away. That she planned to divorce him, but he died first.”

“That could be true.”

“It could be. Alicia Batra thinks more than one person killed the first victim. LikeMurder on the Orient Express.”

Harlan made a face. “That makes it harder on you.”

“Yeah. And we don’t even know where to start with thepossible perpetrators. The first victim was blackmailing a lot of people. Enough to buy a Ferrari and a Rolex. Enough to finance a wealthy lifestyle when his wife had him on an allowance.”

“Ouch. That allowance had to have chafed.”

“I know, right? But I keep wondering if we’re starting in the right place. The wife—the illegitimate second wife who has an ironclad alibi—is rich enough to hire someone to do all this, to make it look all elaborate when it’s really just a pissed-off wife.”

“And the other three murders?”

“Loose ends. Snip, snip, snip.”

“So what are you going to do next?”

“I guess we go back to the whiteboard and figure out what we’re missing. What we need is the list of people he was blackmailing. That would satisfy the ME’s multiple-hands-stabbing-him theory, even if I hate her theory with the passion of a thousand suns.”

“But do youhateit, Kit?” Harlan teased, then he sobered. “If it was multiple people, how did they communicate with each other? How would they have known the others existed? It’s not like someone tacks a postcard up on a bulletin board saying, ‘Hey, I’m being blackmailed, how about you?’ ”

He chuckled, but Kit did not. “That’s a damn good question, Pop. How would multiple people have communicated? It’s likely to have been electronic, so there would be some data trail. Even if they met in person to discuss the details, they might have had phone calls or a group text to tell folks where they were meeting. I really need that list. I don’t know where to start.”

“How did he get the names of his blackmail victims?”

“He had a PI, unlicensed. He was the most recent body we found. The PI dug up the dirt, and the first guy who was killed—”

“You can say Brooks Munro, Kit,” Harlan interrupted. “Everyone knows that’s the case you’re working.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “Munro made contact with the victims, and his admin—who’s also his legitimate wife—collected the money.”

“Where did she collect it? I mean, did she do it in person or was there a drop box? Did they pay her electronically by wiring funds or was it cash?”

Kit tilted her head. “It was cash,” she said, “but as for where the money changed hands, she never really said. That was sneaky of her. Maybe Joel can include that in his plea deal arrangements.”

“You’d support cutting her a deal?” Harlan asked, looking surprised.

Kit shrugged. “Sometimes it’s the lesser of two evils. She’s not a nice woman, and she knows more than she’s telling. We didn’t follow up on where her marks dropped their money, and that’s on us. I’m going to text Joel right now and ask him to try to get that information as part of her plea agreement.” She got to her feet and dropped a kiss on Harlan’s cheek. “Go to sleep, Pop. You can whittle tomorrow.”

He dutifully sheathed his carving knife and slid the block of wood into his pocket. “I was just waiting on you.”

Kit hugged him again, hard this time, getting a grunt of surprise. “I love you, Pop. I don’t say it often enough.”

He stroked a hand over her hair, just as Sam had done earlier. “I love you too, Kitty-Cat. Always have and always will. Now make sure your sister has a barf bucket next to her bed.”