“I don’t know,” Amie said firmly. “I’m not going to tell you my theories just so you can go around telling people they did it like you’re doing with David.”
“But youdohave theories.”
Amie huffed with frustration. “I’m just gathering some information in case David gets into hotter water than he already is,” she explained. “He didn’t do it.”
“I know, I know,” Elena said, raising her hands in surrender. “I just tell it like I hear it. But if you find out anything juicy about anyone else, you let me know, okay? You have my email, right?”
“Yes,” Amie said, scanning her fob again. Elena had wrangled Amie’s email address out of her within a week of moving in. “But not unless it’s backed by fact. A real person has died. It’s serious.”
“Oh, of course, I know that.” Elena followed her into the building, her sandals slapping on the tile floor. “Poor Savannah. She rubbed a lot of people the wrong way, but she was a spitfire. One of the strongest auras I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s a nice way to describe her.” Amie stopped by the mailboxes, pulling out her key ring again.
“I read her cards just last week,” Elena said. “If I’d known it would’ve been her last reading … well, at the very least, I wouldn’t have charged her.”
“I didn’t know Savannah was into tarot,” Amie said, unlocking her mailbox. She hadn’t checked the mail in what felt like years, and she almost expected an avalanche of letters to fall out. But, chronologically, it had just been a couple of days, so the only item in there was a flier for a plumbing service addressed to “Our Friends” at Amie’s address.
“Oh, yes, Savannah had her cards read every week,” Elena said. “She told me it helped to focus her mind.”
“Did she feel like her mind had been unfocused lately?” Amie asked, removing the flier and closing her mailbox. If Elena had spoken to Savannah recently, she might have learned something that could help point Amie toward the murderer.
“No more than usual,” Elena responded. “I can’t say anything other than that. Client confidentiality.”
Amie groaned internally. Of course when she actually wanted Elena’s gossip,that’swhen the woman decided to be unforthcoming. She crossed the lobby and pushed open the door to the stairwell. Elena followed close behind.
“Do you want to know whoIthink did it?” Elena asked as they ascended the stairs together.
“You said it was David.”
“I saidpeoplethink it was David.Idon’t think he did it.”
“Okay. Who do you think did it?”
Elena stopped in the middle of the stairs, gesturing for the younger woman to lean in close. Amie backtracked down a step, crouching so that Elena could lean in and whisper in her ear.
“Benny.”
Amie’s eyebrows shot up. Both women glanced around, as if their landlord could be lurking in the stairwell.
“Why would he kill Savannah?” Amie whispered back.
“The Harlows were struggling with money,” Elena said. “Things had gotten a little easier for them, I think, but I still wouldn’t be surprised if they were behind on rent payments.”
Amie shook her head. “But that still doesn’t explain why he’dkillher.”
Elena huffed. “Well, I haven’t had much time to develop the theory,” she said, starting up the stairs again. “I only just saw him in the Harlows’ apartment several minutes ago.”
“Wait, what?” Amie hurried to follow.
“Oh, right.” Elena stopped again as she seemed to realize she’d forgotten to mention a key part of her theory. “I was in my apartment, doing the crossword, when I heard yelling from out in the hallway. It was hard to make out what the person was saying, so I left to go investigate.”
“Naturally,” Amie said, not unkindly.
“By the time I opened the door, the yelling had stopped. I heard footsteps going down the stairwell, but I didn’t see who it was. A couple of decades ago I might’ve gone after them, but …”
Elena bounced where she stood, as if to demonstrate the deteriorating strength of her limbs. “These knees probably wouldn’t have survived the chase. So I went down the hall to see if I could find out who was doing the yelling, or who was getting yelled at. There wasn’t anyone out there, but the door to the Harlows’ apartment was open. I thought maybe Andrew had forgotten to close it when he left for the memorial—that reminds me, I need to go down there and pay my respects—but then I heard someone moving around inside.
“So I called out, ‘Hello?’ ” Elena’s hands flew to her chest. “And as soon as I did, my god, did my heart start pounding. Because I realized: that could’ve been Savannah’s murderer! And there I was, calling, ‘Hello? Hello?’ Can you believe it? I could’ve died, too!”
