When Ange lay prone, the dogs woofed. “It’s okay, my darlings, I haven’t fainted.” she called out.
“How long did we take?” I asked Reina.
“Two minutes, max.”
“Afterwards, all the killer had to do was stroll out, with nobody the wiser,” I said.
“Great,” Ange said. “That’s progress.”
“Except, we don’t know the motive. Blackmail or fear? A woman scorned?” I wrote the possibilities down in their columns and added Candice and Skye where appropriate.
“What about the other guy?” Ange asked. “You know, the one he stole Skye’s affection from? She said Tim liked to win, no matter how. It could have been revenge, or someone who had their business torpedoed by Tim.”
“That potentially opens a wide field. What did he do for a living?” Reina asked.
“According to the internet, he was a business consultant, which these days can mean anything. He was an early investor in a commercial real estate development, together with Charles Martin Pratt aka Champ. Pratt sold his stake to invest in other projects,” Ange said. She took a piece of sushi and ate it, enjoying our attention. “I thought it would be good for us to have that intel.”
“I should have thought of that,” I said.
“We’re a team. We divide up jobs.” Ange wiped her mouth. “Both sushi and fruit skewers get my vote.”
“Mine too,” I said.
Harper beamed.
Reina didn’t listen. She repeated, “Candice and Skye. I thought you’d excluded them both.”
I grimaced. “We had, until we discovered that Skye lied through her teeth about not having been to Cannon Hill, when it’s obvious that she was there at exactly the right time. We’re certain she did Linda’s mehndi. And while revenge is a possibility, no other name has popped up yet.”
Ange bobbed her head so fast she startled the dogs again. “What if Skye’s the one Tim met at the motel? She wouldn’t be the first to believe that’s the way to win back a man’s heart, and something pulled you toward the motel units.”
Now, all eyes were on me. “True, but my witchfire waves are an indicator, not a science. And I had a much stronger response to touching the chest and the motel card.”
“But wouldn’t that be normal, if you were only standing outside, instead of having physical contact with something in the room?” Reina suggested.
“It would be interesting to know for sure if he’d been there, and in that case, when and in whose company.” Ange rose, took the whiteboard marker, and wrote,Sweet Haven Motel.
“Leave that to us,” Harper said.
The dogs had enough of resting and started to explore the living room. Cosmo stayed where he was, but his head moved to keep track of what Mrs. Miniver and Mr. Chips were doing.
Mrs. Miniver fished one of Cosmo’s balls out from underneath the sofa and sent it flying across the floor. Mr. Chips chased after it,onto the landing, and bumped against the door to the old-fashioned broom cupboard. The door flung open, and my broom fell out. The dog jumped back.
“Sorry about that,” Ange said. She went to close the cupboard, picked up the broom, and carried it over to us to inspect the birch twigs that were bound with natural cord. “I had no idea you had a proper besom.”
“A what?” Reina asked.
“A witches’ broom. Unless you ride on it, Bex?” Ange wiggled the broomstick.
“It used to be my aunt’s, and I only took it up here for a joke. Although I wish I could fly.”
“Don’t we all.” Harper took the broom and pretended to ride on it. “It needs a saddle.”
I took it from her. “It needs to be put away.”
“I wonder.” Reina paused.
“Go on, sweetheart,” her wife said.
