Page 52 of Southernmost Murder

“Did you?” he asked before popping the Skittles into his mouth.

“I figured it might be important.”

“Smart. With the owner’s permission?”

“Totally.”

Jun nodded, starting the car. “You’ll need to direct me to Tillman’s office.”

I gave him directions to get out of Old Town, as we needed to head over to Stock Island, where the Monroe County Sheriff’s major crimes unit worked. It was less than a twenty-minute drive, not that I went there often. I got nervous just driving to New Town, because that pushed the extent of my safety with narcolepsy. But Jun driving was fine. It was just too bad nothing was ever easy when tourists ignore Do Not Cross signs and bike on the wrong side of the road. In a sense, Key West was very much a miniature New York City.

I took out my phone and opened the photos folder. I swiped through the pictures I’d taken, ruminating on the idea that an additional galleon existed and that maybe,just maybe, Smith had lived a double life as a famous pirate. “What did you think of that band of merrymen?” I murmured.

“I believe that Peg honestly had no idea Cassidy had been killed.”

“I agree.”

“I’m not a fan of that Mr. Moore,” Jun continued.

“You better believe I’m not hiring him back to finish the rest of the house’s interior.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Jun replied. “I don’t like coincidences. Him having access to the house, as well as being the friend of the murdered intruder, doesn’t sit well with me.”

I plucked absently at the pink rubber case of my phone. “I don’t like it either. Gives me indigestion.” I looked at Jun’s profile. “What are you thinking?”

“Was he ever left alone in the home?”

“Sure. I didn’t babysit the painters. They finished the first floor about two weeks ago. I didn’t want to schedule the paint job during the busy season, but the board took so goddamn long to approve the project, that was the only slot of time they had to offer me.”

“By all accounts Josh could have discovered the broken window latch during their work in the parlor. Or even broken it himself.”

Fuck. “I found remnants of paint on the latch yesterday,” I answered. “Plus, he’s a big guy. And he has a beard, like Ghost Smith.” I looked at Jun again. “Is that probable cause?”

He shook his head. “Speculation.”

“But you think he’s guilty?”

“Of something,” Jun said. “I’d be interested in knowing about any alibis he might have for last night.”

“I’m making you get involved.”

Jun glanced sideways.

“We should stop.”

“It’s just an unofficial meeting with Tillman,” Jun said calmly.

“But this is your vacation. We’re spending it being snoops.”

“Technically I’m a concerned boyfriend with connections. You’re Indiana, who’s all excited about changing history.”

I laughed and punched his arm lightly.

Jun chuckled. “Don’t worry, Aubrey. I want to talk with Tillman. Let me do that so it puts my mind at ease. Then we’ll get back to beach-lounging and sightseeing.”

I started to reluctantly agree, but then the phone in my hand went off and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Jun put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s just the phone.”