“You think the choice of murder weapon and newspaper used to wrap it are clues?” Wen asked.
“It seems so, but why? What the hell does Thom Renzo have to do with a man that disappeared one hundred and sixty-seven years ago?” I asked.
“Thom was about to let strangers comb through Anthony’s things and sell the home he loved,” Adrian tossed out there.
“You think the ghost of Anthony Bliss killed Thom Renzo using a statue of himself, wrapped it up in a newspaper article about his disappearance, and left it behind Maegan’s business?” the captain disbelievingly asked. “That’s a stretch.”
“No, but it sounds like you do, Cap.” Adrian raised a brow so high it nearly disappeared. “I meant who would be angry that Thom was about to do that? Do we know what happened to the Bliss kids once they moved away? Is it possible that a great-great-grandkid is pissed about Thom capitalizing on their family’s misfortune?”
“That sounds slightly more plausible than the captain’s theory,” I told Adrian.
“I didn’t say that I believed that,” Captain Roman-Wyatt interjected. “Is there anyone in town with a vested interest in that property who took exception to Thom making a buck on Bliss’s belongings?”
“I guess we’ll find out when we talk to Homer Stillwater from the historical society. I’m meeting him after church tomorrow. I’m thinking we can dig through the cellar in the morning before we meet with him in case we find anything else of importance.”
“Okay, fine,” Adrian grumbled. “Can I at least sleep in until eight on my last vacation day?”
“How can you sleep until eight with a newborn in the house?” the captain asked, sounding a little jealous. “Dylan and Destiny still aren’t sleeping that late.”
“Lucky, I guess,” Adrian said with a shrug. “How does nine tomorrow morning work? I’ll meet you at that haunted mansion.”
“Sounds good to me. See you tomorrow, partner.”
Adrian discarded his protective gear and patted me on the shoulder before he left the small lab. “I’m going to stop by the diner and pick up dinner for Maegan,” I said, discarding my gloves, goggles, face mask, surgical cap, and sterile gown in the biohazard bin.
“How’s she holding up?” Officer Murkowsky asked.
“She was pretty shook up when she called me, but she seemed calm by the time I arrived.”
“She’s a tough lady,” Murkowsky replied.
I knew that was true, but my protective instincts were tripped big time. “I hate that it appears our killer is trying to involve Maegan. It feels like a threat to me, and I don’t fucking like it.”
“Maegan beat cancer, so she’ll survive this bastard too.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to the news. Did it surprise me that Maegan kicked cancer’s ass? No, but I still hated that she went through it. A million questions went through my mind, but Murkowsky wasn’t the one I should ask, and I sure as hell wouldn’t pose them to Maegan after the night she had. The right time would come when I could ask Freckles.
“Thanks for your help tonight, Wen,” I said, steering the conversation back to a less personal one for me. “If you’re not busy tomorrow…”
“I’ll be there.”
“Goodnight, everyone,” I said with a small wave. My mind had already moved on from the evidence we found to the fierce woman who was waiting for me.
