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I was sitting in Chief Foley’s office, explaining to him and Detective Whitlock that I’d be investigating Noelle Winters murder.

After I finished talking, Foley perked up and said, “I had a feeling you’d wind up working this case.”

“You did?”

“Noelle’s pesky friend keeps dropping by, trying to get us to cough up information.”

“Can you blame her?” I asked.

“Blame her? No, I can’t say I do,” Foley said. “But the woman’s been a thorn in my side, a thorn I’m hoping you’ll manage to keep out of my way.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said.

“She cornered me at the gas station,” Whitlock said. “Felt like I was being shaken down. I don’t know what she does for a living, but if she’s not a lawyer, she’s missed her calling in life.”

Whitlock laughed.

Foley did not.

“Zoey just wants answers, and though she’s friends with Noelle’s husband Dominic, she told me he’s not talking to anyone much anymore.”

“Why would he?” Foley said. “The man’s mourning his wife. A bit hard to do it in peace with that friend around. Ask me, there isn’t a peaceful bone in the woman’s body.”

“I’m glad you’re on the case,” Whitlock said. “Between the three of us, I’m sure we’ll be able to solve her murder and bring peace to Noelle’s loved ones.”

I’d always admired Whitlock’s optimism. He’d come out of retirement to become a detective again. We’d collaborated on several cases over the past four years, and though he was in his early seventies, the fact I’d always considered myself an old soul made it easy for us to bond.

“What do you know about the murder so far?” I asked.

“We’ve been conducting interviews,” Foley said. “A whole lotta them.”

“Have you come across any useful information?”

“Not much. None of the guests seem to have a motive. Most of ’em either didn’t know Noelle, or if they did, they didn’t know her well.”

“We’ve crossed them off the suspect list ... for now ,” Whitlock added.

“Did any of the guests see or hear anything around the time of the murder?” I asked.

“One of the women we spoke to was standing by the stairs when the lights went out.”

“Who?”

Foley leaned to the side, reaching for a folder on his desk. Opening it, he added, “Let’s see now, guest’s name was Lenore Whittaker.”

“How does she know Zoey and Lucas?”

“Get this, she’s Lucas’ ex-girlfriend, if you can believe it. Said she remained friends with him after they broke up.”

Friends was one thing.

Attending the engagement party of your ex was another.

“How long ago did their relationship end?” I asked.

“It’s been a couple of years. She admitted they get together from time to time.”

“Do you mean they see each other, or are you saying they’ve had sex post breakup?”

Foley’s face went red.

Whitlock, who seemed amused by Foley’s expression, cleared his throat, like he was trying not to laugh.

“Who knows what they’re doing,” Foley said. “Not my business.”

“What else did Lenore say?”

“She claims when she met Zoey, they became fast friends. Such a different world we live in today, isn’t it?”

A world with all manner of different dynamics.

“What else did Lenore say?” I asked.

“Like I said before, she was standing by the stairs when the power went out. She swears no one went up or down the stairs during that time. Even with the commotion it caused, she insisted she would have heard someone if they were on the stairs at the time.”

“Was Lenore there alone, or with a date?”

“If she was with a date, she didn’t mention it,” Whitlock said. “This might sound strange, but when we spoke, I got the impression she was flirting with me.”

“It doesn’t sound strange to me. You’re quite the charmer when you want to be.”

“I say it’s strange because she’s half my age. When our conversation ended, she told me she hoped we could talk again, and then she placed a hand on my arm, looked me in the eye, and declared she was single.”

“Interesting,” I said. “Everyone was accounted for when the lights came back on. Zoey told me the remaining guests were all standing around in the living room ... well, except for Lucas, who was outside smoking a cigarette.”

“Front yard or back yard?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. Are there multiple ways to get into the house?”

“Front door, back door, and then a sliding glass door off the master bedroom balcony, which wasn’t locked when we got there.”

“If the killer didn’t use the stairs, he had to have been upstairs hiding out somewhere,” I said.

“Waiting for an opportune moment to strike,” Whitlock said.

I stood a moment, trying to re-create the scene in my mind. “So the killer strangles Noelle, then makes his escape. The lights come back on, Dominic discovers his wife, and he screams.”

“Right,” Foley said.

But how did the killer escape from the second floor unseen?

“Tell me about the layout of Noelle’s bedroom,” I said.

“If you’re trying to figure out how the killer got away, there’s a balcony off the side of Noelle’s bedroom. Our best guess is he either went out that way or through a window. None of the windows in her room have screens, and they’re big enough for someone to get in and out. Bit of a leap to get to the ground, though. I wouldn’t risk it myself.”

If the killer knew it was his only option, I assumed he would.

“During the party, were any of the guests allowed upstairs?” I asked.

“When we spoke to Zoey, she said everyone was told at the start that the celebration was to be contained to the main level. They didn’t want anyone milling around when it was time for the child to go to bed.”

“If the killer turns out to be one of the guests, I’m guessing he crept upstairs during the party and hid out. It’s possible the other guests assumed that person had left when they hadn’t.”

“I thought the same thing, except Zoey said she walked each guest to the door when they left to thank them for being there on her special night.”

“Every time I think I’m onto something, it gets all kinds of holes poked into it.”

“Tell me about it,” Foley said. “That’s how we feel.”

“If guests were not allowed upstairs, it would have made the second floor a lot easier for Silas to dust for prints.”

“It was, and we were hopeful about it, at first.”

“And then?”

“Upstairs, there were prints belonging to Noelle, her husband, her daughter, Zoey, and Lucas. No one else.”

“And since Silas found fingerprint marks on Noelle’s neck, I’m assuming the killer wasn’t wearing gloves—not when he killed her, anyway.”

I crossed my arms, tapping a foot to the ground, thinking.

“I know that look,” Foley said. “What’s swirling around in that head of yours?”

“This murder seems so personal in nature—not only personal but premeditated.”

“Sounds logical.”

“Who else have you spoken to, aside from the guests who attended the party?”

“We’ve talked to Zoey and Lucas, of course. Talked to the husband a few times, and his sweet daughter.”

“That was hard,” Whitlock said. “Always is when it comes to kids.”

“We’ve also spoken to the neighbors on her street,” Foley said.

“Any chance one of them has a security camera?”

“The couple living across the street from Noelle’s house has a security camera. It was on and recording the night of the murder. Problem is, during the time we believe Noelle died, the video doesn’t show anyone coming or going from her house. All it picked up was a stray cat.”

Whitlock raised a finger. “Which brings me to my theory. The back of Noelle’s house butts up against a mountainside. I think the killer hiked up to the house, snuck inside, and then after the murder, he made his escape the same way.”

“What I don’t understand is, why kill Noelle during the party, when so many other people were around? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Unless ... the killer could have been making a plan to murder Noelle, but hadn’t decided when the murder would take place. Perhaps something had set him off that day, and he couldn’t wait any longer.

Secrets had a way of doing that to a person.

Was Noelle keeping a secret, one she was getting ready to tell?