Willow stops short. I almost run into her. She turns on me.
“Are you seriously accusing me of murdering—”
“She was with me all afternoon,” Josie interrupts.
“All afternoon?” I press.
“Well…”
“Josie, stop talking.”
I scribble on my pad.
“How do we knowyoudidn’t kill Dr. Merriweather?” Willow demands.
“What? I’m the PI,” I remind her. “The private eye is never the murderer. That’s not how these things go.”
“Yeah, but the jealous lover is.”
“The jealous—you think I’m sleeping with my client? That I don’t have professional integrity?”
“A private eye is not a profession. Taylor Grace was all over you. You two are sleeping together,” Willow says flatly.
“Is she even paying you?” Josie asks.
“I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart.”
“Be prepared to get taken advantage of.”
“Sounds like someone’s jealous. Could be a motive.” I make a note. “Taylor Grace did say you were obsessed with her.”
Willow looks hurt.
“I know you killed Dr. Merriweather,” I tell her, “and I’m going to prove it.”
3
WILLOW
“He is the fucking worst,” I rail to Josie as she samples my latest candy creation: hot cocoa and marshmallow cookies with Peppermint Pattie crumbles.
“You need to sell these,” she says, making reaching motions toward the cookies.
I put two on her plate for her.
“I mean, look at him. He’s such a weirdo.”
“Maybe he’s just bored and lonely.” Josie pets Lord Mycroft, my guinea pig.
“He could be the murderer,” I tell her flatly.
“You think?” Josie pauses and drops the cookie.
Mycroft goes for it, making piggy grunting noises.
“Do not eat that,” I scold him and direct him to the greens Hollis brings him from her garden.
Josie picks up the cookie and polishes it off.
