“I know. She said that you were a gentleman.”
“Well, gee, shucks. Glad to hear it,” Liam said. “I’ve been checking out the angle you’re talking about. I’m assuming that the guy you and Pete met up with Saturday night-the guy who filed a pickpocket report-is the guy who Stella worked over. Maybe those college guys involved in the fight are the guys Morgana is talking about.”
“Morgana said she thought that Stella met up with a college student,” David said.
“But the thing is, I don’t think she was killed by a college student. Not that a psycho can’t be that age-just that I doubt one of the kids down for the weekend would have the what-have-you to get into that museum, steal the tape and disappear without leaving behind a fingerprint, hair or single skin cell.”
“Do you know that there was no physical evidence?” David asked.
“If there is, the crime-scene folk don’t have it so far.”
“Still, I’m going around to see if I can find out who was with Stella,” David said.
“I’ll give you a list of where I, or other officers, have already been,” Liam told him.
“Thanks,” David said.
“You’re going to double-check anyway, aren’t you?” Liam asked.
“Wouldn’t you?”
“I’m doing my best on this, you know that,” Liam told him.
“I know. I know you’ve got my back, and I’m grateful,” David assured him.
He was just closing his phone when Katie came down the stairs. She was freshly showered, her hair wet and back, wearing a terry robe.
“Good morning,” he said a little huskily.
She came up to him. He was perched on one of the bar stools at the kitchen pass-through and she sat on the one beside him, setting her hands on his knees.
“I think I know where Stella might have been murdered,” she told him.
He frowned and asked carefully, “Oh?”
She nodded, her gaze meeting his steadily. But she didn’t speak again; she stood and walked around to help herself to coffee.
“Walk with me, and I’ll tell you what I think.”
She sipped her coffee black, staring at him over the rim of the cup.
“Why do you think you know?” he asked her.
“Logic,” she told him flatly.
“Maybe you want to explain that logic?” he said.
“Come with me. Give me a minute-I just have to hop into some clothes, and I’ll show you what I’m talking about.”
“All right,” he said gravely.
She smiled, and he realized that she had been waiting for him to believe in her.
“I’d like to get home, though. I need to shower and change,” he told her.
“Go to Sean’s room, just grab something of his for this time,” she said.
“Isn’t Sean on his way home? I feel a little strange, helping myself to his belongings.”
She shrugged. “He told me ages ago that if he hadn’t taken things, they didn’t matter that much. And you two were friends. His room is down the hall from mine.”
“Okay, thanks. But I still have to get home for a bit.”
“Of course. But let’s do this first. I may really be able to help you.”
“All right.”
She still stared at him for a moment. Smiling.
He should know the feeling. She looked at him the way people had once looked at him. He remembered his grandparents, his aunts and his cousin. Remembered what it was like to know that they didn’t look at him with suspicion, but complete belief.
She turned and headed for the stairs. He followed her a second later. Sean and he were about the same size. He felt like an intruder, but he also hated putting on the same clothing after a shower. He figured Sean wouldn’t mind a friend borrowing a pair of button-fly jeans and polo shirt.
He came downstairs, perched on the bar stool again and waited for Katie.
As he sat there, the newspaper sitting on the table, with a headline reading Murder in Paradise, suddenly rustled-and moved.
He frowned. He walked over to the table, thinking that the air-conditioning system must have a vent over the table.
But there was no vent.
He moved the paper. Nothing happened; there was no erstwhile bug hiding under the paper.
His imagination?
No, he’d seen it move.
Even as he still pondered the strange rustling, Katie came running back down the stairs, now wearing a pin-striped sundress.
He found himself watching her.
She was…
Katie. Stunning, perfect and with that smile and those eyes that seemed to offer so much honesty, and yet…
Not really. She was keeping something from him. He hoped that she’d trust him soon, and tell him what it was.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
He nodded.
They left the house together. He was silent, waiting for her to talk as they came around Duval.
She pointed. “There-the museum where Stella was posed.”