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“Stuff. Always. What?”
“Landry Williams left the country. I’m not sure if I believe that. Find out, if you will, everything you can. When, if, why, how, and so on.”
“I’ll start with flight data and a phone ping. Sounds like someone is on the run and hiding.”
“If he’s really out of the country this might actually be his alibi for last night, but it doesn’t mean he’s not involved in the murders. If he’s still here, I’ll be giving him a much closer look.”
He punches keys and then says, “Okay, this is coming back to me. He’s the one who was at the horror club close to the diner. The doctor who said he was there to check it out for his teenager. The same doctor who was friends with one of the victim’s fathers and used yet another victim as his real estate agent.”
“That’s him. He owed me the name of the patient who supposedly recommended it but never got me that name. He’s also ghosting me.”
“Yeah, he sounds involved.”
“Maybe. Or just scared. Have you talked to Murphy?”
“Not for a couple days. I thought he was there?”
“He is.” I leave it at that.
“If I don’t answer when you call back, text me and email me. I’m headed into the subway in about half an hour and then an autopsy.”
“Copy that.”
I disconnect, and Jay sits down and sips his coffee. “Serious question. How do you know the difference between two percent and skim milk?”
Obviously, a question inspired by my coffee debacle. “If it tastes good, it’s two percent or whole.”
His brow furrows. “So you drink what doesn’t taste good?”
“It’s an acquired taste and healthier.”
“You ate an éclair today,” he points out.
“And think how much worse I’d be without my skim milk.” I scowl. “Asshole.”
My phone buzzes with a text message and I glance down to read a message from Tic Tac:Just a quick answer before I dig deeper. He flew to Europe yesterday morning. He landed in France. More soon.
I reply with:Do we have anyone in France who can pay him a visit?
Over my pay grade, is his reply.That’s a Murphy question.
I grimace and dial Murphy. I end up in his voicemail again. Irritated, I text him:My person of interest ran away to Europe. I need someone to go and pay him a visit.
And I wait for a reply that doesn’t come.
“Why are you staring at your phone while I stare at you staring at your phone?”
I glance up to find Jay doing just that. Staring at me. “What milk is in your coffee?”
“Whole.”
I slide my cup to him. “Try it.”
He grimaces and drinks before he says, “It’s not that bad, actually.”
“No. It’s not. The syrup and whipped cream hide the milk. The good hides the bad.” My brows dip and I murmur, “The good hides the bad.”
“Why do I think we aren’t talking about coffee anymore?”
