Page 137 of Murder on Charity Lane

“Okay, but what about—” Hamilton started.

“You’re the only one guaranteed not to find a body, Hamilton!” Ocean snapped.

He ducked his head and fell silent.

“I’m going to have nightmares for a year. I can’t stop seeing him. The stains on the window, the way his sleeve was…” Ocean shuddered. “We’re in too deep.”

“You’re right,” I said.

“Yes,” Anthony said.

I turned to him. “You agree?”

“Someone’s out there with a knife.”

“It’s true that this is easy for me to say,” Hamilton said, with an uneven note in his voice. “We all know I’m not going to leave the house. But walking away means leaving CJ to the tender mercies of the justice system.”

“We can’t stop investigating,” Lily-Ann said. “There are too many unanswered questions.”

“We were doing this for Mrs. B’s weird sense of friendship,” Ocean told her. “Not for your weird need for resolution.”

“And for you, Ocean,” Lily-Ann said. “Your feelings for CJ.”

“Are you okay with dropping it?” I asked Mrs. B.

She looked up from digging in her purse. “I am. CJ’s not in danger anymore. The murderer struck again, and this time the police will establish a time of death that clears her name.”

“Are you sure she has an alibi?” Hamilton asked.

“Of course! Modern life provides so many. If she was on her phone, she can prove her whereabouts at the time of the crime.”

“Oh, now you understand how phones work,” Ocean muttered.

“That’s a good point,” Lily-Ann said. “However, even if she didn’t kill Sunny—”

Mrs. B pulled an emery board from her purse. “Which she didn’t!”

“Then two wealthy men, good friends, both died violently in the past few weeks. That is not a coincidence.”

“You mean the same person killed them both?” I asked.

“Or one death led to the other, somehow. They’re almost certainly related.”

“Why is that almost certainly?” Ocean demanded. “Because it’s too messy otherwise, and you can’t stand mess?”

“Yes,” Lily-Ann said.

“What the hell, Lily-Ann? Maybe you should stop with crimes and focus on your Wordle.”

Her hazel gaze settled steadily on Ocean. “I didn’t see the body, but—”

“I did! I did, and now I can’t unsee it. Let the cops handle the killing. Let them handle both deaths.”

“You want to trust the police?” Mrs. B murmured, starting to file her nails.

“We haven’t unearthed a single clue, Golda. We’re not one inch closer to proving CJ’s innocence—much less who the knife murderer is.”

“I didn’t see the body,” Lily-Ann repeated, “but I know what it feels like to find a man standing over you with a weapon in his hand.”