“Then why was he sniffing around here?”
“Because he thinks Hoffman might be guilty?” I voiced that possibility with more hope than conviction.
Theo sent me a sidelong, pitying glance before boarding the elevator.
I followed after her with heavy steps, each one seeming to pound out the worddoom.
Mrs. Nagy opened her door when she heard us out in the hallway. She looked a little tired, but she smiled when she saw my niece.
“I thought it might be you, Livy,” she said. “Would you like to come over and help me bake some cookies?”
“Yes!” Livy bounced with excitement as she turned her pleading eyes on me. “Please, Auntie Em?”
“Are you sure it’s not too much?” I asked my neighbor. “You know, with everything that’s going on?”
“The distraction would do me good,” she assured me. “And spending time with Livy brings me such joy.”
“It makes me happy too,” Livy said, giving Mrs. Nagy a gap-toothed smile.
I could practically see the elderly woman’s heart melt at the sight. My own heart did the same. I truly believed that her husband was innocent, that they were exactly what they seemed: a kind and generous elderly couple who adored Livy. I’d never doubted for a second that my niece would be safe in their care.
“All right,” I said to Livy, sliding her backpack off her shoulders. “But don’t spoil your dinner by eating all the cookies.”
“I won’t eat all of them,” she said, following Mrs. Nagy into her apartment. “Only half.”
“Save the other half for me!” Theo called after her.
The sound of Livy’s giggle lifted my spirits and gave me a surgeof energy and renewed determination. Mr. Nagy and I would have our names cleared in no time.
I checked my phone and wished I hadn’t.
Can we meet today?Wyatt had texted.
“Let’s get a move on,” Theo urged.
I tucked my phone away. I could always respond to Wyatt later, once I’d figured out what to say.
I let us into my apartment and dropped Livy’s backpack on a kitchen chair. Then I fetched the murder board from my bedroom. Even though it was still blank, I’d returned the board to its hiding place under my bed the day before. I carried it out into the living room and set it on the desk, letting it lean against the wall.
Theo dug through her backpack and pulled out a manila folder.
“Is my file in there?” I asked, trying to get a peek inside when she opened the folder.
She made no attempt to hide the contents from me. “Personnel files are kept in a secure location. This is just murder board stuff.”
I frowned with disappointment—I really wanted to know what she’d written in my file and, more importantly, in Wyatt’s file—but I accepted the pictures she handed me. One for each of our three murder suspects. They were home-printed and consisted of a candid photograph of Minnie, one of Hoffman’s selfies from social media, and a generic silhouette of a man from the shoulders up.
“How did you get this one?” I asked as I studied the candid shot of Minnie checking her mailbox in the lobby.
“With my phone.”
“But not with Minnie’s consent.” I was pretty sure she had no idea she’d been photographed.
“You want me to announce to people that I’m taking their picture to put on our murder board?”
Well, when she put it that way…
“Never mind.” I stuck each photo up on the board with the help of a magnet.
