Damien blanches. “That’s awful early.”
“Running a business is work,” Remy tells him. “Sounds like you have a second job. Congratulations.”
“Why don’t we all go to the bank right now?” Willow’s face is splotchy. “And you can go ahead and withdraw that money from your bank account. That will help us make payroll.”
“Well, never mind,” Damien mumbles.
“No, I insist,” Willow says hotly. “You’re right. It is half yours now. The Harrogate Community Bank should still be open.”
“I don’t want any part of that business. It’s not mine, and I don’t want any creditors breaking down my door about it.” Damien backs away. “You can have it. I’m not setting foot in that shop or giving you a dollar.”
Remy taps his body cam and winks at Willow. “Maybe you know a computer person who can download this for posterity’s sake.”
23
WILLOW
“I’m too tired to eat.” I slump into a chair in the carriage house living room.
On the coffee table, Hughes sets down the pizza and the Yuletide beer that smells suspiciously like repurposed pumpkin spice beer from the fall festival.
“At least you don’t smell like a jail cell anymore.” He kisses the top of my wet hair and pours the beer into a mug. “The guy at the craft brewing stall said it needed to be served warm.”
“Warm beer will send me over the edge.” I accept the piping hot pizza that is fortunately holiday themed only because of the tomato and pesto and not because someone did something unholy with the recipe. I sip the beer then take a bite of the hot pizza, the herbs a jolt on my tongue.
I set the mug painted with jolly Santas on my knee and look at the whiteboard in front of me, on which Hughes is moving Damien’s photo to the “cleared” column.
“We don’t actually know that he’s not the murderer,” I remind him.
“He’s never actually said he wants her dead. He seems lazy and entitled. He didn’t lock you in the stall.” Hughes turns to me.
“That’s just what he said. We don’t know.” I take another bite of pizza.
“There are others who are more likely suspects than he is.” Hughes refills my mug.
“He’s not off the board completely. So, who else do we have?” I glare.
“There’s Josie—”
“Josie did not kill Taylor!” I yell.
“You said you found her bracelet,” he argues. “If you want Damien to be a suspect, then Josie needs to be one too.”
“Put her in the cleared column. In fact, take her off the board entirely.”
“Where was she the night of the Christmas party?” Hughes presses.
“Off the board.” I gesture with the mug.
He sighs and puts her photo on a chair. “I guess you want our grannies off the board too?”
I point.
Their photos are taken down.
“So, who are we left with?”
“Mysterious earring owner, Maris, the person in black who locked you in the stall.”
