Page 96 of Murder By the Millions

“You’ll be happy to hear I’m with a neighbor, and we’re feasting on hot chocolate and s’mores.”

I gathered she was assuring me she wasn’t imbibing. “Excellent. Have fun. G’night.”

When I rejoined my friends, I noticed another singer was onstage. Candace had joined us at the table. She was steering the conversation.

I reclaimed my chair next to Tegan and whispered, “I like your getup.”

“It was easy.” She’d thrown on a light sweater over leggings. “But shh, and pay attention.” She jutted a finger at Candace. “She’s telling us how she knew Jason. When they were young. They went to elementary school together.”

Candace laughed, her eyes glinting with humor. “I remember chasing him in the yard—we were five—and I wanted to kiss him behind a tree.”

Tegan said sotto voce, “Apparently, once his family relocated, she never saw him again. She didn’t even know he was here until she heard about his murder.”

“When I chased him, he didn’t fight me off,” Candace said wistfully. “Probably because I had pretty blond curls, and he loved girls with blond curls.”

Delilah had beautiful blond hair. Had Jason been obsessed with it? Had Finette added highlights to her tawny hair hoping to entice him?

“I didn’t mind when he touched them,” Candace continued, clearly enjoying sharing the memory. “Whenever he did, I could stare into those gorgeous eyes. His lashes were so long.”

Finette said, “What was he like as a boy?”

“A bit of a braggart.” Candace mimicked him. “‘I can run faster than you. I can read better than you. I’m smarter than you.’” She tittered. “You know how it goes. My boy is pretty much the same. A lot of hot air.” Her twenty-year-old son was living at home and attending junior college. “But Jason was sweet, too. Very kind and gentle.”

“Aw,” Finette said, misty-eyed. “Tell us more.”

“He loved animals, and he dreamed of traveling the world and building skyscrapers. When he moved away”—she pressed a hand to her heart—“I was heartbroken. I dreamed we’d marry one day.”

“Why didn’t you keep in touch?” Finette asked.

“Back then, we didn’t have the Internet, plus we were ten. It wasn’t like we were going to become pen pals. Write a letter? Gag me.” She giggled. “He lived in California. I lived here. End of story.”

Except it hadn’t been the end of the story. He’d returned.

“Allie,” Finette said, “do you know if Zach is close to finding out what happened?”

Candace said, “My husband said Jason was engaged, but it didn’t work out, and the breakup was what prompted him to come back to Bramblewood.”

“I don’t believe that was the case,” I said. “Delilah married her husband thirteen years ago.” Seeing her pregnant must have been the impetus.

“I wish we had closure for him,” Finette said. “Zach is usually so good at solving things. Allie, is he close?”

“Detective Armstrong won’t discuss the case.”

“Do you have theories of your own?” she asked. “After all, you cracked Tegan’s aunt’s murder.”

I hadn’t cracked it per se. I’d come up with viable clues.

“Tell her who you suspect.” Tegan prodded me with her fingertip.

I threw her the side-eye.

Tegan said to the rest, “Allie suspected Reika Moore because she wanted the properties Jason was bidding on for the Bramblewood Historical Preservation Society.”

“But she didn’t do it,” I stated. “She’s in the clear. She has a solid alibi.”

“What is it?” Lillian asked.

I shook my head. “It’s private but confirmed.”