“I suppose,” Rachel said reluctantly.
I stood up. “All right, then. Zachary, you go to Taco Bell. See what you can observe at the Body Shop. I’ll go stake out Mrs. Miller’s house.”
Zachary was already on his feet, grabbing his keys. “On it.”
He was out the door in seconds, leaving Rachel and me alone with Edwina. He hadn’t even given her time to petition for being allowed to come along.
“Be careful,” Rachel said. “If she killed Nick, she’s got a gun. And you’ve got a history of running afoul of nasty old ladies.”
I shook my head. “She’s not going to kill me. Not in broad daylight in front of the neighbors, and for no reason.”
“Make sure you don’t give her a reason. No snap decisions to go inside her house because you think it’s empty, or anything.”
I promised I wouldn’t, and bent down to scratch Edwina’s ears. “You stay with Rachel, sweetie. There are too many cats where I’m going for you to come with. You’d bark at them and give me away.”
She huffed, but put her head down. “I’ll be back by the end of the day to pick her up,” I added. “Make sure you let her out at least once.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “I do this every other day of the week, Gina. I know the drill by now.”
Of course she did. “Does Kenny still live in that little condo on Hillsboro Pike that David bought for him?”
Her face closed. “What do you want with Kenny?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m hoping he won’t be there. I just thought I’d take a look at his doormat on my way out of town. Just in case there’s red paint there.”
Rachel looked reluctant, but I guess she didn’t want to outright lie—she knew I knew where the condo was, and that I’d go there whether she tried to dissuade me or not—so she admitted that yes, Kenny (and now Daniel too) were still living in the small two-bedroom condo on Hillsboro Pike. “They’re sinking every dime they have into the bar. The condo is free other than the HOA fees and property taxes. Kenny would be stupid to move somewhere else.”
“I’m just glad you haven’t moved Daniel into your house,” I said honestly.
“It’s early days for that,” Rachel answered. “Now go, and stop bothering me.”
She turned to the computer. I said goodbye and headed out the door.
* * *
Kenny’s condo is on Hillsboro Pike, in a nice location just on the outskirts of Green Hills, although the complex itself has seen better days. It’s mostly populated by young professionals who go to work during the day. I cruised through the mostly empty parking lot at a slow pace, looking for Kenny’s white Bronco. It wasn’t in his assigned spot, or anywhere else I could see. I parked in a visitor’s space off to the side and walked across the lot and up the stairs to his second-floor unit.
The stairs and landing were pristine. No red paint spatters, no drips, no evidence that anyone had been carrying a paint can up or down recently. And while Kenny’s doormat was anything but pristine, none of the stains on it looked like red paint. The mat clearly wasn’t new either, so it wasn’t like he had replaced it last night or this morning to hide any evidence. On my way back to the car, I even stuck my head into the dumpster near his building—holding my breath the whole time—but with nothing to show for my sacrifice but the sight of bulging trash bags and soiled pizza boxes and other garbage.
Of course, that didn’t prove anything. Absence of evidence wasn’t evidence of absence, as I’d told Zach the other days. Kenny could have cleaned up meticulously, or disposed of the can somewhere else entirely. The fact that there was no red paint here didn’t mean that Kenny wasn’t guilty.
Still, it was disappointing. It would have been nice to know at least one thing for certain.
I got back into the Lexus and pointed it toward Bellevue, while I wondered where I might be able to park near Mrs. Miller’s duplex without being too obvious about it. From what I could remember, the neighborhood wasn’t the sort that made surveillance easy.
And indeed, as soon as I turned onto Nick’s street, I knew my efforts were doomed. It was residential, quiet, with neat houses and tidy yards. There was nowhere inconspicuous to lurk. No coffee shops or convenience stores with parking lots, no parks or public spaces. Just houses, driveways, and the very occasional car parked at the curb.
I drove past the duplex slowly. The crime scene tape was still there. Nick’s truck, too—I guess the police hadn’t needed it as evidence.
I turned the corner and pulled to the curb, thinking. At night, I could park in someone’s driveway and claim car trouble if anyone asked. But in broad daylight, with people home, that seemed like a recipe for getting the police called on me. Again.
My phone rang. “I just wanted to update you,” Zachary said when I’d greeted him. “I’m in the Taco Bell parking lot, with eyes on the Body Shop. Everything looks normal.”
“Really?”
“Well, as normal as it can be. The bay doors are open, people are working. Sal’s here—I saw him walk in just now. Megan, too.” He paused. “Looks like they put up a flier in the front window. It’s got Nick’s picture on it.”
“A memorial?”
