I realized that estimating the time Beverly came upon the body based on the scream wasn’t necessarily accurate. Some people coming upon a body might start to scream instantly, whereas others might be momentarily frozen by the discovery, unable to issue a sound. More important, if Beverly were the killer, she wouldn’t have screamed unless someone else came along. Why call attention to the crime you’ve just committed? Maybe Tilly could shed more light on the timing.
“When you were walking around that side of the building, did you pass anyone?” I asked. “Did you see anyone in the area?”
The cupcake was halfway to Beverly’s mouth when her hand stopped. “Wait. You think I might have seen the killer leaving?”
“It’s a possibility. Didn’t Detective Duggan ask you about that?”
“Maybe.” She lowered her hand to the table, frowning. “He asked me so many questions...one after the other, so fast, and my head was already spinning....”
“Did you see anyone else?” I repeated to nudge her back on track.
“I suppose there could have been other people walking around. It was a warm night. I was focused on trying not to snap off a heel.” She stopped to sip her tea, the cupcake still in her other hand. Before the cup reached her mouth, she set it down abruptly, causing the tea to slosh over the rim. “Oh good Lord, if I’d been there a minute earlier, I could have been killed instead of Amanda.” Her voice was hollow with dread.
“I doubt it,” I said. “I don’t think this was a random act. Whoever killed Amanda had an agenda. They were after her, specifically.”
Beverly heaved a shaky sigh. “Do you really think so?”
I assured her I did.
“I suppose that does make more sense.” She remembered she was holding the cupcake and nibbled on it distractedly. “Do you think the killer wanted to get rid of Amanda because of her position on the hotel?”
“I wouldn’t rule it out.” It was my first thought when I saw her lying there with her neck slashed open. But I also knew it would be shoddy investigating to start out with my mind closed to other possibilities. The killer’s motive might not have had any connection to the hotel at all. He or she could have chosen the high-profile venue to hide their true motive.
“That means anyone who feels like she did about the hotel could also be in danger,” Beverly said.
“Do you know if she was for the hotel or against it?” I asked. No harm in making sure Rusty had heard her correctly. Although Beverly was hardly the most reliable source, at the moment she was the only game in town.
“Oh yes, she was gung ho for it, and she wasn’t shy about making her opinion known.”
“Do you share that opinion?”
“I’ll be keeping my opinion to myself from now on, thank you very much, and I plan to talk to the mayor about having a secret ballot when the time comes for the board to vote. If he refuses, he can find himself two replacements instead of one.”
It was a pretty good bet that Beverly was in favor of the hotel. I had one more question for her before I excused myself to get back to work. “Any thoughts about who the killer might be?”
She appeared taken aback by the question. “How would I know?”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Whatever you say stays with me. I’m not going to broadcast it. And you never know—if you’re right, you may help catch the killer.”
She chewed on her lower lip. “If I’m right, would I get credit for it in the news? Or money like a reward?”
Ah, there was the Beverly I knew and disliked. “I could put in a good word for you with Detective Duggan.” As if he would ever listen to me.
“Well okay,” she relented. “I have been wondering if it was Amanda’s almost ex, Alan Boswell. The second time he cheated on Amanda, she threw him out and filed for divorce. But she couldn’t bring herself to sign the divorce decree and sever all her ties to him. She still loved him and felt sorry for him yada yada yada.”
“What kind of ties?”
“If you ask me, it was mostly him coming around to grub money from her. The guy’s a sleaze, a parasite.”
“She told you all that?”
“And more. Bartenders and hairdressers—we know more secrets than the CIA,” Beverly said with a sly smile.
“Did she usually give him the money he wanted?”
“Yeah, when she couldn’t stand his whining anymore.”
“Then why on earth would he kill his golden goose?”
“Maybe he found out his goose was about to sign the divorce papers and cut him off.”
“Was she?” I wished Beverly would stop the teasers and flat out tell me the rest of what she knew.
“Yes, I finally talked her into signing it and changing her will and the beneficiary of her life insurance policy.” Her chest puffed up with pride over her powers of persuasion.
“Did he know his time was running out?”
“That I don’t know. Amanda had an appointment to come in for a cut and blow-dry this Friday. I was going to ask her then. That reminds me. I have to take her name out of the book.”
After politely chatting for another minute, I left Beverly to her cupcakes and drove back to Abracadabra. The trip had been worthwhile. I had Beverly’s account of finding Amanda, which I could compare to Tilly’s, as well as a possible lead to the killer.
Chapter 6
I spent a good part of that night debating whether to call Travis and tell him about the leads I’d gotten. My head told me the information was too vague to pass on. At the very least, I should wait until I followed up on it. My heart told me I shouldn’t squander a chance to speak to Travis and possibly see him. This time my mind won out. If he needed space, as my matriarchs seemed to think, I was going to let him have all he needed. I never mooned over any guy, not even in my teens; I sure wasn’t going to start now. Having made that decision, I awoke the next morning feeling lighter and more energized. I fed the cats, showered, and slipped on a cotton sundress and sandals. It had been a hot summer, and the heat wasn’t showing any signs of letting up. Don’t get me wrong. I love the summer, but I was tired of my summer wardrobe. And this late in August, all the stores were showing winter coats, fur-lined boots, and bulky sweaters.
In spite of the heat, when Sashkatu followed me over to the shop he had more bounce in his step too. He was starting to key into my moods as the months went by without Morgana. The thought warmed my heart but also brought tears to my eyes. It took effort to shut down the waterworks. I couldn’t very well greet customers with red eyes and mascara tracks down my cheeks. After I turned off the security system, Sashki and I walked through to the front of the shop. He hopped up the steps to his window seat and settled in with a little grumble of pleasure. Both of us in place and ready for the day, I slapped on a determined smile and opened the front door.
Since no one bowled me over in a mad rush to get inside, I used the lull to dust the shelves and the myriad products on them. It wasn’t a job I enjoyed, but customers tend to be put off by dust and spider webs. I stopped at the halfway point. There was a finite amount of tedium I could stand. I promised myself I’d tackle the other half later. Besides, I had other work that required my attention.
My grandmother had been urging me to work on my telekinetic ability with the eventual goal of mastering teleportation—moving my body through space with the power of my mind. And although Bronwen no longer possessed a corporeal body, it was never wise to ignore her. Besides, growing up I had bemoaned the fact that I lacked a specialty, a unique magickal skill that set me apart from the other members of my family. My mother had been amazing at developing new spells, Tilly was a preeminent