Page 115 of Murder on Charity Lane

“How good are you with computers?”

“I’m okay. I’ve designed websites, I’ve fixed routers, I’ve turned everything off and on again.”

Ocean’s eyes smiled, though the intensity didn’t leave her face. “In that case, you know that browsing websites leaves traces.”

“Of course.”

“Yet you made no effort to hide your incriminating searches?”

“Oh!” CJ brightened despite her tear-streaked cheeks. “That’s so true.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Everyone knows better than to leave a homicidal search history on your work computer.”

“Exactly! Yes. If I’d been planning murder, I would’ve used an anonymizer or—or what’re those called?”

“No idea,” Ocean said.

“A VPN! Or one of those things … proxy servers?”

“That’s them.” Hamilton turned to Mrs. B. “A virtual proxy network conceals traffic from your computer, even at the ISP level, which private browsing doesn’t hide.”

Mrs. B blinked owlishly. “Oh, of course, the ISP level.”

“That’s such a great point.” CJ wiped her tears with her palm. “If I’d planned to kill Frank, why would I leave a search like that behind? I wouldn’t. Nobody would.”

“So you do think you’re being framed?” I asked, watching her more closely.

“I…” She pushed her auburn hair behind her ear. “I don’t know. Do people really get framed in the real world?”

“I doubt it,” Nicholas said. “I mean, c’mon, that’s like falling into quicksand.”

“Of course she’s being framed,” Mrs. B said. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. This is clear to an experienced investigator.”

“Do tell,” Ocean said.

“Karina was in a rush to inherit, to spend the money and—”

“Why?”

“Because life is short! She didn’t want to wait around while the doctors kept Frank alive for fifteen years, at the cost of several small fortunes. Or maybe she wanted the money for a more specific reason.”

“Like what?”

“Like remodeling. Or she wants to invest in krypton currency.”

“Krypton currency?” I asked.

“Cryptocurrency,” Ocean translated.

“Like I said.” Mrs. B snorted.

I turned to CJ. “Is Karina interested in investments?”

“Not even a little,” she said. “She tells Frank—she used to say, ‘Screw careful accumulation, it’s time for conspicuous consumption.’”

“The reason doesn’t matter,” Mrs. B said. “But at the very end of dinner at the Hope Ranch house—do you remember what always happened then?”

Ocean said, “What?”