“Her blood will be pooling by now. We’ll need to place her in the same position, out in the rain, somewhere she could’ve fallen.”
“She was staying at the Motorway Inn,” I said, pushing the rest away. “We’ll dump her at the bottom of the back stairs, by the parking lot.”
Those stairs were covered by a concrete awning, but the rain was practically blowing sideways. There were plenty of sketchy residents at the Motorway for the police to suspect. Most of them wouldn’t talk to the cops; the rest wouldn’t be believed.
Sebastian and I left campus, through the east gate and past a row of Helshire-focused businesses. A café, a tattoo parlor, two hair salons. The street was empty.
Out here in the real world, no one was celebrating the rain.
A few blocks later, Faraday’s Victorian loomed before us. The house was dark and still, except for one lit window on the top floor.
We went in through the back, muddy and soaked. Faraday sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, staring at the closed pantry door.
She looked up at me and smiled.
“Finally,” she said. “Amazing what I have to do to get a visit.”
“Well, here I am,” I said.
“All’s well in hand, dear. I gave Salinger a gummy bear, twice his usual dosage. He’s retired for the afternoon.”
“He lives here? I thought you kicked him out.”
“I did, but then Hopper left in protest, leaving room for one more.” She glanced at her phone. “India and Dutton are trapped at the library. I’m supposed to bring them umbrellas, and then we’re all heading to the Banner storm party. They’ll text me if they change plans.”
Sebastian closed his umbrella. “Good work, Far.”
“I’m not completely useless, Bazzy. Wipe your shoes.”
I ignored the nicknames. In the nearest chair was a wet Helshire sweatshirt in a plastic bag, the one Crystal had been wearing. They must have pulled it off her before moving the body into the pantry—one less clue pointing at the college.
“We’ll need a car.”
“Dutton’s keys are hanging by the door,” Faraday said. “Sunset is at six eighteen.”
I closed my eyes, but she was right—we couldn’t move the body in daylight, and it wasn’t even five yet.
“Faraday. How did this happen?”
“Aren’t you going to take your coat off?”
“I’m not wearing much under it.”
“An odd choice for your first visit, dear.”
“I was in a hurry. Something about a dead body.”
Faraday glanced upward—toward the scene of the crime or perhaps Salinger’s room—and gave a sigh.
“She started talking about a murder in the city, this summer. Some artist of Garrett’s. It sounded as if she was here to accuseyou.”
Maybe Crystal had known I was more than a loose end.
I looked at the pantry door. What if Faraday had saved me?
“I couldn’t let her walk away after that,” she went on. “I’d told her your real name.”
“She already knew my name. I talked to her a few hours ago.”
