“We don’t have any evidence,” Nikki said. “I called Parker’s sister. She didn’t answer and the phone wasn’t set up to leave messages.”
Emerson nibbled on her lip. “She’s his alibi for the first murder. Without her, he’s got no alibis for either case.”
“I’ll let you know if I talk to his sister.”
“I’m heading back to a second-hand bridal boutique.” As Emerson made her way downstairs, she checked her phone. She hadn’t heard from Stryker since Saturday and wondered if her prisoner fantasy had been too much. Rather than overthink it, she typed a text. “Is your company back online today?” She didn’t like that, and retyped. “Thinking of you. Is your company up and running?” She sent it, jumped in her car, and drove to the bridal shop in Alexandria.
The store was quiet and the owner had more time to assist Emerson. After Emerson reminded her what she was looking for, the woman pulled out a stack of notebooks from behind the counter. “I keep notes to help me remember. My memory isn’t what it used to be.” A few minutes later, she said, “Here’s an entry from March. A young man did swing by. You’d think I’d remember a man shopping alone for a wedding dress. His name is KC.” Emerson tried making out the owner’s notes, but the abbreviations and poor penmanship made it impossible.
“Did you get his last name?”
“No, but he did purchase four dresses.”
“Didn’t that strike you as odd?” Emerson asked.
The woman continued reading. “Here it is. He’s a photographer and he needed a few dresses for a photo shoot.”
Have I found the killer?“Did he tell you anything about the shoot?”
“Nothing I remember.”
“Did he say if the pictures would be posted anywhere, you know, to promote his business?”
The woman checked her notebook again. “I wish I’d written that down.”
“That would have been great publicity for your boutique.”
The owner shook her head. “How did I miss that opportunity?” She reviewed her notes again. “I didn’t get a phone number for him. Hmm, here’s something. All four dresses were size eight.”
“Did he pay with a credit card?”
While the woman checked, her phone buzzed with an incoming text from Stryker.
“TCS is up and running except for gov’t accts. Meet tonight, 9?”
“Congrats! Nine works,” she replied.
“He paid cash for the dresses,” said the shop owner, plucking her from her thoughts of Stryker.
Cash is another dead end.“Do you remember what he looked like?”
The woman paused. “I remember he was such a nice young man. So friendly and polite.”
“So, he was young?”
The woman smiled. “Everyone is young to me. I’ve had this shop for over forty years.”
“Was he tall with dark hair?”
The owner shook her head. “That’s not ringing any bells with me.”
“Shorter with blond hair and a beard and mustache.”
“Sorry, no.”
Emerson glanced around. “No surveillance cameras?”
“I don’t have a problem with shoplifting. It’s hard to sneak out with a wedding gown.”
