“Okay, so…”
“So I was staking out the Howling Hog, and nothing much was happening. Real classy place, by the way, and full of hard drinkers. When I told the bartender I was working my way through the twelve steps, she said she’d pray for my soul. Anyhow, there was a commotion at the bar across the street, so a bunch of folks ran over there and found the dead guy in the bathroom.”
“Alcohol poisoning?” I asked hopefully.
“Single stab wound to the heart.”
“Interesting.”
A stab wound to the heart screamed “GutterMuse.”
“Yeah, that’s what Branning said.”
“What size was the knife?”
“I don’t have the autopsy report, but it looked to me as if a narrow blade was used.”
“Has the dead guy been identified?”
“Not yet, and his prints aren’t in the database. We were hoping you could take a look, see if you recognised him from any of those dark-web sites.”
“Nobody’s putting their face on the dark web.”
“He has a tattoo of an eagle on his shoulder. Kinda distinctive.”
Thanks to my accidental career path, I’d seen enough dead people to last a lifetime, so what was one more?
“Okay, fine, send it over.”
Strangely, Weekes’s call felt like a return to normality. Nolan’s tormentor had been unmasked, the reasons behind the sabotage were clear, and I could put that stress behind me. It was easier to be the nameless, faceless hacker who flitted through the dark web like a wraith than to watch the man I loved consumed by anxiety and worried for everything he’d built.
Yes, I did love Nolan. I was convinced of that now.
There was just one loose thread to tie up: Marielle. And I had absolute faith that Ari would manage to solve that mystery too.
CHAPTER 43
ALEXA
“That’s Rayna, hundred percent. Where’d the bitch end up?”
Latoya loved gossip every bit as much as Antonella Cranston did. When she finally got over her jet lag and returned our call, she dished all the dirt on Marielle’s breakup with her former fiancé. I listened in while Ari asked the questions.
“On the West Coast.”
“And I’m guessing she did something else unhinged, otherwise why would you be calling me?”
“She accused my client of trying to steal her boyfriend.”
“And Rayna made the whole thing up in her head, amirite?”
“It was the ‘boyfriend’ part she made up. The man in question hired her for a decorating job.”
“Sounds like Rayna. Just you wait—she’ll trick him into bed with her and make sure everyone finds out about it.”
“Is that what she did with Marielle Marten?”
“Mari walked in on them. Didn’t stop crying for a week straight. When she stopped showing up for work, me and Samantha went over to check on her, and there were sixteen empty boxes of Kleenex. Sixteen! I counted. Angelo came over while we were there, and she wouldn’t even answer the door to him.”
