I lean back in my chair. “My first thought would be that they’re looking for resident files, but we’re very clear we don’t keep those on-site.”
“And if they suspected that was a lie, they’d presume you and Eric have them. I am very clear about the scope of my position.”
“You aren’t the people person. You’re the thing person. Inventory, schedules, supplies. Everything about the town infrastructure and operation, excluding the residents. So what would someone want with that?”
He hesitates.
I peer at him. “Phil?”
“I don’t know,” he says a little too quickly.
“But you have a suspicion.”
“Let me continue to think and dig. Even if I’m right, it’s not an immediate threat.”
“Do I get a hint?”
He shakes his head. “You have murders to investigate. I only wanted to mention it, in case you see a connection between the murders and the break-ins, though I cannot imagine what it would be.”
I don’t push Phil. There’s no point. He’s a corporate guy, and this is corporate ass-covering. He realized he may have neglected to tell me about a break-in, so he remedied that.
Why would someone want town-manager files? Even though I consciously dismiss it for now, it nags at the back of my subconscious as I head off to the next bit of business, partly because this is yet another item on my to-do list that seems unconnected to the much bigger issues.
Earlier, I’d planned to speak to Muriel, before I was derailed by Émilie’s new information. Now it’s time to get her to give me the name of who she’s been seeing. And while I chafe at that waste of effort, there’s also a possibility it might lead to something useful. And maybe that’s why, when I settle into that interview, I push a specific theory harder than I should.
“Fine,” she says, sitting primly on the edge of her bed. “I’ve been meeting someone. No, I won’t tell you who it is. Whatever the punishment is for breaking curfew, I accept it for both of us. Double the punishment to maintain his privacy.”
“Is it Eric you’re meeting?”
Her head shoots up. “What?”
“Maybe Phil?”
“Of course not.” She bristles. “You’re mocking me, and I do not appreciate it, Detective.”
“How am I mocking you?”
Her glare intensifies. “By mentioning two men who are very happily in relationships. Men who are younger than me, attractive, and taken. Out of my reach.”
“No, I’m only referencing the first part of that equation—the two men who are taken. Well, so are Devon and Brian, but if you said it was one of them, I might be even more certain you were lying. My point, Muriel, is that the only reason you’dprotect your lover’s identity is if he were off the market. That takes it down to a very small number of men.”
Her mouth hardens. “My lover is in a relationship. Just not with anyone in town. Back home.”
“Cut the shit, Muriel. I know your lover isn’t from Haven’s Rock. I have evidence of that.”
Here’s where I bluff. Where I push a theory I have zero evidence for because it suits my own needs. If her lover isn’t from Haven’s Rock, that means he’s from the mining camp, and I wouldloveto have that extra bit of leverage with Rogers.
Hey, so, one of your guys has been regularly trespassing to visit one of our residents.
“Not from town?” Muriel gives a high, nervous laugh. “Where else would he be from? There’s no one else out there. You really are reaching, Detective. Maybe you should take some time off. I can’t imagine how tough it is, working out here with a new baby, hormones still running wild.”
I bite back a response. She’s panicking and swinging wildly.
“There actually is another settlement,” I say. “A distant one. That’s where your lover is from, and I have proof. I just need you to admit it so we can move on.”
She squirms. She denies. I stand firm until finally, she blurts, “Yes, okay? Yes. He’s from another settlement. I wasn’t lying about needing time to myself, though. That’s how we met. I would go for walks, and one day, I bumped into him. Scared me half to death, but it was obvious he wasn’t some recluse living in the forest. He was well-dressed—in expensive outdoor clothing—and he had perfect manners. He said he lost track of time and walked too far from his camp. We got talking and then…” She shrugs. “One thing led to another.”
“You said he was well-dressed, well-mannered… Can I get a little more?”
