Wyatt didn’t move a muscle. “Only if you stay back.”
The two men engaged in a brief staring contest. Rage still contorted Hoffman’s face, but he blinked first and took another step back.
“Why the hell would I kill some guy I didn’t even know?” he asked, returning his attention to me.
“You were at the Mirage on the day of the murder,” I said. “You were caught on camera.”
“I came to bring you flowers. Then I changed my mind. That’s not a crime.”
“Why would you bring me flowers?” I asked, momentarily distracted by the question that had bothered me ever since seeing him on the Mirage’s security footage.
“I thought we could get back together. Then I came to my senses.”
Beside me, Wyatt shifted but didn’t speak.
“You mean you were trying to butter me up so I’d call off my private detective.” I didn’t believe for a second that he still harbored any positive feelings toward me. If he ever did. “Does Tiffany know you bought roses for another woman?”
“Don’t you dare tell her.” He tried to take a step closer, but Wyatt’s hand landed on his chest again. He glared down at it but stayed in place, even after Wyatt removed his hand.
I decided to get back on track. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. What matters is the murder.”
“I had nothing to do with that.”
“Then why were you in the building so long after you dumped the roses?” Wyatt asked.
“That’s none of your business.”
“I think you saw Freddie disappear into the vintage phone booth,” I said. “I bet you waited until Freddie was out of the way, and then you discovered the speakeasy and all the old booze. You wanted to make some money by selling it, so you took a bottle. ButFreddie caught you and tried to take the liquor back. The bottle broke during the struggle. Then you hit him over the head with the croquet mallet that was in Freddie’s office.”
The scenario played out with unpleasant clarity in my head.
Hoffman’s face flushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I didn’t believe that for a second. “You’re lying. What’s in the bag you brought here?”
He didn’t have it on him at the moment.
“A bottle of water and a script.”
“No booze?”
His face contorted.
“Hello, Emersyn!” a familiar voice called out.
I was so engrossed in the fight with my ex that it took me a good three seconds to realize that Leona Lavish stood across the street, holding a reusable water bottle. Her presence took me so much by surprise that I momentarily forgot about Hoffman.
I crossed the road. “Leona? What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing, darling.” She gestured at the warehouse behind her with a languid hand. “I teach acting classes here.”
“In the warehouse?” That struck me as odd.
“It’s been converted into studio spaces. All sorts of classes are taught here. Stained glass, pottery, drama, you name it.” She glided a step closer to me. “If you want to sign up for one of my classes, I could give you the friends and family discount. Five percent off.”
“That’s sweet,” I said as Wyatt joined us on the sidewalk. “But I don’t think acting is my thing.”
“You never know until you try it.” Leona took a sip of her water.
