“Unexpected.” He stopped walking as we did our best to hide between shoppers and spy on the tour booth.
People milled about the area, stopping to ask questions or sign up for tours, but only one person was standing at the table. Their smiles betrayed the killer beneath the surface.
“I would never have guessed,” I said.
He shook his head. “That’s because you’re too trusting.”
Only one of us worked for a podcast about murder. And it wasn’t him. Wait, actually… I guess he did, too.
What were we going to do? How did we get the killer to confess?
“We can’t trust a note from a random stranger. There has to be something we can do to prove their guilt.” I backed up, trying to put a little distance between us.
Now that we knew the possible identity of the killer, I wanted to make sure they didn’t see us. My butt hit a low table, and I jumped, causing the table to skid against the concrete floor before tipping.
Someone grunted, and metal wobbled as the same woman with the bag from earlier knocked over a tall metal rack of postcards. A woman gave a quick squeak, and photographic images of Charleston scattered across the floor. A chorus of yelps highlighted the sound of destruction as one display toppled another.
“Princess!” Dane said.
19
“What? It wasn’t me,” I lied.
We moved forward trying to get away from the destruction. The lady with the purse probably started it. Or made it worse.
The commotion behind us soon exploded forward as the crowds of people tried to figure out what the heck was happening.
“Delaney,” Dane said as he dragged us forward.
What was he upset about now? I glanced up, followed his finger, and gasped. A group of women pushed past us, tossing me onto him. The scent of pralines and roasted pecans drifted between vendor stalls. Now I wanted a snack. “Where’d she go?”
Dane stretched upward to get a better look, but a stream of people were moving on beyond us, making it difficult. “Why is everything chaos with you?”
“Me?” I pushed through the group of people, cutting a way for us to the Southern Hospitality Tours booth. “She’s gone.”
“Come on.” Dane pulled me forward as we zigged and zagged through the crowds. “She couldn’t have gotten far.”
He parted the thick crowd, pulling me with him. The air buzzed with chatter, some people shopping and the others trying to figure out what happened with all the noise. Someone bumped my shoulder, sending me flying to the left. Dane jerked me back onto the path.
We worked our way through two tables as we scanned the crowd. Tables of sweetgrass baskets and watercolor prints blocked the area. I ducked around a group of women in matching T-shirts.
My frustration grew. The heat pressed down in the small space, the crowd of people making it worse. Dane picked up his pace as a jazz band struck up a tune outside the building. It would have been perfect if we weren’t hunting a killer.
We neared the end of the building without seeing the killer.
Dane turned back to the main shopping area. “There are so many places she could have gotten out.”
A group of people pushed us out the other side we were in. “She saw us and knew. There’s no other reason to run.”
“Gee, if only someone had seen that happening before we came here,” he deadpanned.
Outside, we stepped to the side to get away from the crowd. It put us closer to the band, so I had to yell when I said. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
“And smart,” he answered.
We moved from the band. “And arrogant.”
I let my gaze roam over the people walking on the street by the market, but I highly doubted she ran from the building and then stopped. “Do we really think Donna Lee killed William?”
