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Wanna bet? “Let’s just say, you’re not the only one who’s been bamboozled.”
“Sounds juicy. I need details.”
After promising Suzette to meet up for drinks later that evening, Cora got off the phone and walked back to her desk. She wished she could’ve gotten more details from Liam last night. She’d intended to talk to him after work, but he was gone by the time she’d arrived home. Well after midnight, she’d heard him come in, and she’d started to climb out of bed to confront him, then decided against it. Why should she be the one to chase him down? He owed her an honest explanation, and he needed to do it of his own free will. Anyway, she was done trying to connect with him. It was obvious he had secrets he didn’t want to share, and she wasn’t even sure he’d be honest with her, anyway.
She shook her head and took a gulp of lukewarm coffee as she surveyed the case evidence on her computer screen. If her father had any idea just how much trouble Liam was causing... Well. She wasn’t going to tell him. Her father had been so happy to see them connect, and she didn’t want to be the one who disappointed him. Let Liam do the disappointing. He was good at it.
“Earth to Cora.” Otto rapped his knuckles on her desk.
She snapped her head up. “Yes?”
“Forensics got back with the report on that scrap of fabric found in the wastebasket.” Otto held it up.
“And?”
“Inconclusive,” he said, shaking his head. “John Brady’s DNA was found in the fibers, but only one fingerprint, and it’s an obvious mistake.”
“What do you mean?”
“According to our records, the only clear fingerprint belongs to a man named Clyde Wilson,” Otto said.
“All right,” Cora said. “Let’s track him down. Where is he?”
“More like, when. Clyde was a smuggler from the prohibition era. Apparently, the database goes back that far. I don’t envy the poor soul who had to scan in all those old documents. Anyway, his record states he spent five years evading the law until he was finally caught during a shoot-out.”
Cora took the report and reviewed the document. The grainy black-and-white image of the man looked like every old gangster photo she’d ever seen. “Great.” She handed the report back. “Our only suspect is the ghost of a gangster from the thirties.”
“Not our only suspect,” Happy said from across the room. His face was even more sour than usual. “There’s a new one that just came up, from what I understand.”
Cora threw him a look. She’d never minded that Happy was standoffish and grim; it was his life and he could live it however he wanted. He was a competent police officer, and that’s all that mattered to her. But today, for the first time, she found she resented him.
“Hey, I’m just stating the obvious.” Happy lifted his hands. “Liam was having an affair with the dead man’s wife. And he didn’t tell us. You have to admit that’s a big red flag.”
Cora lifted her chin and turned back to her computer. “It’s bad judgment on his part, but that doesn’t make him a killer.”
“Have you found anyone who can alibi him?” Otto asked.
“Not yet,” she said. “But I will.” As much as she didn’t approve of Liam’s secrecy, she still believed he was telling the truth about the ATM robbery. That morning she’d gone out to the convenience store across from the motel to ask around. The restaurant server and bartender remembered seeing Liam and Margaret together, but none could attest to his whereabouts during the time of the murder. What she really needed to do was find the old man who was mugged, but the likelihood of that was slim to none.
She opened her computer, staring glumly at the screen. An image of the tiny scrap of fabric found in the wastebasket had been recently uploaded. She rubbed her eyes and zoomed in on the one-inch scrap which supposedly came from the murder weapon.
It looked like silk, or... She tilted her head as the tiny diamond pattern on the fabric solidified in her mind. Her mouth fell open, and pinpricks of shock skittered up her spine. The pattern on the fabric was an exact match to the silk tie she’d bought Liam for the gala. Liam’s tie. She shoved away from her desk and grabbed her purse.
“Hey, McLeod,” Otto called. “Where’s the fire?”
Cora ignored him and rushed out of the station to her car. No more waiting around. She needed answers, and Liam was going to give them to her.
Her phone rang just as she pulled off the highway toward her neighborhood. She stabbed at the button, her mind in a tailspin. “McLeod.”
“Oh. Hi, Cora.” Finn’s quiet voice seemed far too calm for what she was feeling.
“What is it?” she demanded. God, was she living with a murderer? No. He couldn’t be. He was a police officer, for God’s sake. A protector of the people. She had all sorts of weird feelings around him, but she’d never gotten the evil sociopath vibe. There had to be a good explanation for why the tie she’d bought him was the murder weapon.
“Uh, is this a bad time?” Finn asked.
She tried to switch lanes, but the car next to her accelerated and narrowly missed sideswiping her door. The driver sped past, laying on his horn.
“Idiot,” Cora barked.
