“Afternoon. How are things going?”
“Good. You should try the Scottish meat pie today. Alvin outdid himself.”
I sniffed the air and, sure enough, the dense, smoky-sweet aroma of beef and bacon steeped in stout mixed with onions and carrots filled the air. The fact that I didn’t pick up on it right away showed how distracted I was, because it smelled delicious.
“No wonder it’s so quiet in here. Everyone’s too busy eating to talk.”
“That’s a benefit for sure.”
It looked like she had everything under control so this would be a good time for me to go talk to Leon. I hated to leave Declan out of it, but I didn’t think he could be objective where Leon was concerned. He really wanted Leon to be the bad guy. I understood why. He was protective of his grandfather and didn’t appreciate Leon pointing his finger at him.
Back in my pack days, I’d known men who killed. Some out of anger and some in a quest for power, and I didn’t think Leon had it in him to kill anyone. Still, though, I had to admit it was all a little suspicious.
He hated Winston, and he just happened to be outside after the meeting in time to see Elwood. That seemed convenient. I didn’t know why he might have wanted to kill Jim, but Declanwas sure the dagger that killed Jim had been on his table earlier that day, so there was that as well.
“Are you good here? I have a couple things I need to take care of if you’re good.”
Sable looked up at me, concerned. “Oh, are you heading back out?”
“Not if you need me here.”
“No, we’re good here. I just wondered if it was about Jim’s murder. Everyone’s worried.”
“I’m sure Grady is going to catch whoever did it, but Iamlooking into it, as well.”
She nodded. “Good. Grady’s a nice guy and all, but truth is, he’s too nice. He’s no match for a killer.”
“And I am?”
“I didn’t say that. I just said I was glad you were helping.”
I left Sable to her kingdom and crossed the street, the late-afternoon sun slanting low enough to turn the windows of Leon’s shop into squares of gold. His apartment sat above it, and sure enough, I spotted him in the window before I even knocked. He came down after a minute, wiping his hands on a rag like he’d been polishing something delicate.
“Gideon,” he said, voice wary but not unfriendly. “What can I do for you? Is there a problem with the festival?”
I gave him a smile that was meant to settle him, though I let enough weight sit in my tone that he knew I wasn’t here for pleasantries. “No, no problems. I just wanted to clear up a few things. Mind if we talk a minute?”
He hesitated but finally nodded, stepping aside so I could enter. I followed him through the shop to the steps that led to his second-floor apartment. His place smelled faintly of polish and old wood, and the air was cooler inside. Leon gestured me toward a chair but stayed standing, arms crossed like he was bracing himself.
“I’ll get right to it,” I said. “You and Winston. Everyone knew you didn’t care for him.”
Leon snorted. “Didn’t care for him is putting it mildly. But that doesn’t mean I killed him.”
“Then you’ll understand why I’ve got to ask if you have an alibi.”
His eyes flicked away, jaw tight. “Not really.”
“Not really,” I repeated, leaning forward a little. “That’s not the kind of answer that clears things up.”
“I know.”
“But you said you saw Elwood that night, after the meeting.”
“I did.”
I let the silence stretch before I asked, “So you were outside?”
“No. From my window.” He gestured vaguely toward the street. “I wasn’t out there.”
