“At least you know it works,” Amie offered, to which Andrew laughed.
“That’s a good way of looking at it.”
Amie picked up her mug as she glanced around the apartment. She thought about Benny being in there earlier that day, looking for the photos. Where had he looked? Did he find them on a laptop and delete them? How could Amie possibly find them herself?
She sucked in a breath as a thought hit her.
“What is it?” Andrew asked.
Amie flashed him a smile. “Tea’s hot,” was the excuse she managed to get out. “It’s very good though. Um, when did you set up the trip wire?”
“Before I went to bed,” Andrew answered. “I haven’t had much time to get used to it, hence me forgetting it was there.”
Amie frowned.Never mind then.
“Oh, the bedroom one I did today,” Andrew amended. “The one in the hallway I set up yesterday evening.”
“Ah,” Amie said, her mind beginning to race again. “Extra security. Smart.”
She didn’t even know what she was saying; she was too busy thinking. Elena had seen Benny in the Harlows’ apartment earlier that day, sitting on the other side of the door. Had he tripped over the wire? No, the vase was still intact, and besides, he would’ve been further down the hall if he’d tripped.
So Bennyhadn’tmade it far into the apartment, and didn’t return later. If he still wanted those photos, he could be back.
“Very smart,” Amie added, this time with added emphasis. “Has, um, Benny stopped by lately?”
“Here?” Andrew asked. “No, he hasn’t. He came by the store to pay his respects.”
“Just …” Amie scrambled for the right words. She didn’t want to frighten the man. “The trip wire is smart. I’d keep using the chain lock on the door, too.”
Andrew stared at her for several seconds. Then he gave her a slow nod. “I will.”
They sat quietly for a minute, sipping their teas. Amie finally spoke, feeling a need to fill the silence.
“Your traps remind me of my friend David,” she said. “I don’t know if you’ve met him; he lives on the second floor. He loves building Rube Goldberg machines, you know, one thing causes another thing causes another …”
She trailed off as Andrew put down his mug with a heavythunk.
“I know David,” he said gruffly, still gripping the handle of the mug.
Uh-oh.Amie shifted uncomfortably, waiting for Andrew to say more. He didn’t.
“I don’t know what you might’ve heard,” Amie said hesitantly, “but David wouldn’t … I mean, I know him, and he—”
Andrew sighed, rubbing his face. “I know. I’m sorry. The police told me they were going to question him, but I know that doesn’t mean much.”
“So you weren’t the one who told the police about the argument,” Amie murmured, almost to herself. “Right. Because you didn’t talk to Savannah that evening.”
“I only heard about it from the police,” Andrew confirmed.
“Did they tell you who tipped them off about the argument?”
Andrew shook his head, folding his hands on the table. “I know … my wife was often difficult to deal with. She had very strong opinions, was incredibly stubborn, and tended to …”
He paused, then finished tightly, “… put her own feelings above the feelings of others. But I just can’t imagine … murder. Why would someonemurderher?”
The question was not being posed to Amie, she knew that. Andrew was asking it not to be answered, but as a signal to the universe that to him, this Didn’t Make Sense. Amie understood the small comfort in declaring oneself to the cosmos—if a person couldn’t control their fate, the least they could do was make it known when they felt the narrative designed by the powers that be was frustratingly lacking in logic.
Andrew’s question had a much higher likelihood of being answered than the ones Amie had posed to the universe during the time loop. But not by anyone in that room. Not that night, at least.
