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Privately, I wasn’t so sure. People in Globe took their footballveryseriously.
“Was Kyle at the party?”
Danny ran a contemplative finger over the faint line of stubble on his chin. He was the sort of man who probably could have shaved twice a day. Now he would be stuck with that stubble for all of eternity.
“No,” he said after a long moment. “At least, I never saw him. But frankly, I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to the men who were there.”
Of course not. Danny would have been far more interested in seeing who would be receptive to his flirting. What he’d been trying to accomplish, I wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d thought he would be able to get one of those women to go home with him.
“Well, I’ll check around,” I said. Was there some way I could ask Josie without being horribly obvious?
Probably not.
But at least Danny had given me a couple of leads to follow up on, so I figured I might as well concentrate on them first. If I were really lucky, I might be able to find the killer this very day.
“Okay,” I told him. “It’s Sunday, so I think I’m going to cruise by Jennifer and Corinne’s houses to see if they’re home. I’ll have better luck doing that today than on a workday. And if they’re not around, I’ll just have to try again tomorrow after work.”
Belatedly, I realized that tomorrow was Halloween and that I’d already made plans with Calvin and Hazel and Chuck. Well, I’d just have to squeeze in my sleuthing when I could. As Danny had told me earlier, he wasn’t going anywhere.
“What are you going to ask Corinne and Jennifer?” he asked, looking genuinely curious.
I sent him a lopsided smile and gave a helpless shrug.
“I have absolutely no idea.”
6
Questions and Answers
After our interview,Danny just sort of melted away, leaving me alone in the shop. I glanced over at the clock and saw it was only a little past one. Probably a good time to take a break for “lunch,” although I didn’t have any intention of eating something substantial. I kept a Kind bar under the counter for these sorts of emergencies, so I pulled it out and took off the wrapper, then munched it hurriedly as I went over to the door and made sure it was locked — and also double-checked that my “be back at” sign really was set for Monday morning at ten o’clock.
Yes, it was showing the correct time, so I just had to hope no one else would wander along and be quite so insistent about trying to get inside the store. A peek down the street told me it looked pretty much deserted — no big surprise, since none of the other shops on Broad Street were open on Sundays, unless you counted Cloud Coffee, which stayed open seven days a week.
I was just glad that I’d fed Archie when I got back from Josie’s, so he wouldn’t have any reason to complain about my neglect. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t, of course, only that I had absolutely no reason to feel guilty about heading out on my errand.
With all my bases covered, I went back to the counter and retrieved my purse, gave my lip gloss a quick touch-up, and then stepped out the back door to the shop, locking it behind me. If possible, the day was even prettier now, with a few clouds drifting in, not enough to obscure the sun but enough to make the sky more interesting. It was the sort of day I wished I could have spent with Calvin, maybe heading over to Gilbert to go wine tasting, or just staying close to home and taking a nice hike on one of the trails around town. Since he was working, I didn’t have that luxury, which meant I might as well stick to business.
I got in my Denim Edition Volkswagen Beetle and headed over to First Street, where Corinne’s duplex was located. To my relief, there was only one Spanish-style building on the entire block, which made my task a lot easier.
After parking in front, I got out of the car and made my way up the paved walk. Each half of the duplex had its own mailbox; I took a quick peek and determined that Corinne lived in Unit A.
Better and better.
I went to her half of the duplex and knocked on the door.
No response.
Well, maybe she was out back, working in the yard. Or maybe she was in the middle of doing laundry and couldn’t hear my knock over the sound of the dryer.
Or maybe she’s not home at all,I thought.Sunday afternoon is when a lot of people run their errands.
I really didn’t want to entertain that possibility, though, so I lifted my hand and knocked again.
A door opened, but not the one I’d been knocking on. An older woman, probably around seventy, with untidy curly hair and wearing a particularly obnoxious housecoat in shades of lime and turquoise, peered out at me.
“She’s not home,” the woman said helpfully, and I blinked.
“Corinne?”
