Enolia’s right-hand man watched them as they ambled to the exit, and only then did he reopen his laptop.
The reporters stepped outside with a jingle of the door.
“Walk with me,” Alden said.
“Good idea.” Roz didn’t want anyone—especially Craig—to overhear them. Or read their lips.
It was a beautiful, breezy day, and several people were out shopping and enjoying the fair weather. And it felt good just to walk. She spent too much time behind a desk.
“How much of that was true?” she asked when they’d walked past a few businesses.
“Maybe all of it, but it’s what he left out that bothers me.”
“I’m sure he knows more about the money,” she said.
“I thought that too.”
“How much do you think Wayne tried to get out of Enolia?” Roz asked.
“How much did he actually get?” Alden mused. “And was she completely clueless?”
“If Enolia thought Wayne stole from her, she might’ve wanted to do him harm.” Roz sipped her mocha. “She writes murder books for a living. Suppose she sabotaged his vape pen?”
“Or had a fight with him in the alley? We found that book that might be hers out there. And Mae said something about Enolia complaining of a spot on her dress. But of course, if Enolia was anywhere near him when the pen blew up, there would’ve been more than a little stain.”
“Yuck.”
Alden lifted one shoulder. “Sorry. It’s yucky. And I know she writes murder books, but I just can’t see it. She’s a writer, not a fighter.”
“And you’re a poet and didn’t know it.”
“Oh, I know it, baby.” Alden grinned at her.
Roz tossed him a flirty look. “I’m still waiting for my first poem from you.”
“It’ll probably come sooner than the novel,” he admitted.
She chuckled. “I found it interesting what he implied about the money Enolia planned to give to Mae.”
“That the funds Enolia might have fed to Wayne could’ve meant Mae wasn’t getting her bailout? But now that Wayne’s dead, Mae’s in the money? You know what that means.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Roz glanced across the street toward Big Bang Books. “Mae benefited significantly from Wayne’s death, because her aunt now has the money to give to her. Doesn’t Enolia Honeywood have tons of money anyway?”
“One would think,” Alden said, “but how much of it is available at any given time?”
“Wayne must’ve asked for a big chunk. And Mae might’ve needed a bunch to save the bookstore. If Wayne kept asking, he could’ve bled Enolia dry. His death stopped the gravy train and gave Mae what she needed.”
“That’s motive for murder, but nothing Craig said about the money is on the record,” he said.
“OK, I guess all we got out of that interview that we can print is that Wayne promised to get Enolia’s books on film. Which we already knew. But we need to think about Mae’s role in all this.”
“Maybe I can get more out of Craig later. And I’m going to shoot an email to someone I know at Netflix, see if there’s anything to what he said about Wayne’s claim of developing adaptations of Enolia’s books there. In the meantime, I have to talk to Blake.”
“Mind if I come along?”
“What about Nicole?” Alden stopped walking.
“Nicole and Sebastian. I want to talk to both of them.”
