Page 28 of Southernmost Murder

A pause. Then Jun said, “Quarter to eleven.”

I groaned and whined loudly. “I’m so tired!”

Jun stepped closer, feet against the bottom step so I could lean my forehead against his thigh. “When do you go to bed?”

“Ten.” Yes, I had a bedtime. My doctor recommended I keep a strict sleep schedule to ward off the daytime sleepiness.

“They look to be wrapping up,” Jun said. “We’ll go home soon.”

We’ll go home. I… liked how that sounded. And not just because I was ready to crash.

Jun prodded my shoulder as I was dozing against him, and I sat up straight, blinking. “What?”

“Tillman.”

I looked over my shoulder as said cop walked out the front door and across the porch. I got to my feet. “So?”

“Did you know the deceased?” Tillman asked in return, coming down the steps.

I shook my head. “No. I mean, I didn’t get a good look at his face because I never turned the lights on. I had a flashlight, but I was… sidetracked by the marlinespike in his chest.” Probably wasn’t the right time to mention that I fully expected to have the murder weapon back in the possession of the museum.

“How well did you know Lou Cassidy?”

“Cassidy?” I scrunched my face up and then pointed across the street. “The pirate museum guy?”

“That’s the one.”

“Holy shit, was that him?” I shouted.

“What was your relationship?” Tillman asked.

I shook my head. “I wasn’t aware I had a relationship with him. He worked at Key Pirates Museum. They’re across the street from us, a few doors down from the Custom House.”

“How often did he tour this home?”

“I don’t know… every few months he came by,” I said, thinking hard. “He’s one of the Conchs that insisted Smith was a pirate. Whenever he visited, he’d ask me about loaning some of our artifacts to them. He wanted to set up a display on Smith, portraying him as One-Eyed Jack.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him no,” I said firmly. “I told him that there’s no historical evidence to back up the belief that Smith was a pirate. By all accounts he was a prosperous wrecker and investor. He didn’t make his fortune in any devious way, so I absolutely wouldn’t loan my hard work and research to a museum that would paint him as a villain.”

“Did you ever argue about it?” Tillman asked.

“Argue?” I echoed.

Jun held up a hand. “I don’t appreciate where you’re directing this line of inquiry, Detective. I’ve been at Aubrey’s side all day. To insinuate this fellow’s death was at all due to him doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Just making sure I understand the situation, Agent Tanaka,” Tillman said in a clipped tone.

“Look,” I said, getting in between them, because if there was one person Tillman clearly disliked more than me, it was Jun. “Cassidy was a jerk about it. He insulted the work I’d done on the house, but—”

“Aubrey,” Jun said firmly.

“I didn’t hurt anyone,” I protested. “That’s insane to even suggest!” I looked up at Tillman. “What about a second person? The balcony door on the second floor was unlocked. Is there evidence someone else was here?”

“We’re still looking,” Tillman answered. “We’ll need access to your security footage.”

“Fine,” I said. “Take all of it. Be my guest. Can I go inside and check the antiques for damage? Jun said there appeared to be some kind of scuffle on the third floor. I need to—”