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Before they could step inside, Duke’s phone rang again.
“It’s the trading post,” he muttered before answering and putting it on speaker.
Simmy’s voice came over the line. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but Mariella has an update for you. Everyone has been as busy as beavers.”
“We can’t wait to hear it,” Duke said. “Put her on.”
Andi moved closer, not wanting to miss a thing.
“You guys,” Mariella started, her voice as animated as ever. “I have been scouring through the comments made online about Craig’s podcast. He has so many dedicated fans that it’s unbelievable, and I have to admit I’m a little jealous.”
“Did you discover something?” Duke clearly didn’t want her to go off on that tangent.
Andi could appreciate that, even more so as a cold wind swept around them.
“Well, as we all know when it comes to online comments, they run the gamut. Some people are so nice. Some people are so boring. Then there are the ‘others’—the people who feel brave making snide insults while hiding behind the safety of their keyboards.”
“So did something strike you as odd?” Duke seemed intent on keeping Mariella on track.
“Oh, right. That’s what I wanted to tell you about.” Mariella seemed to snap back to the subject at hand. “So there were a few people commenting who really caught my attention, including one user who calls himself Angel of Light.”
“What did he say?” Andi moved closer, telling herself it was so she could hear better. In reality, she wanted Duke to block the wind for her. “Does that tie in with the angel bobblehead?”
“Well, earlier I heard Matthew tell you he thought he heard someone humming in the background. Right? I listened to it also, and I’m nearly certain that the song he was humming was ‘There’s Power in the Blood.’”
“Interesting choice,” Andi muttered.
“I thought so too,” Mariella said. “Anyway, this poster said, ‘When this poor lisping, stammering tongue lies silent in the grave, then in a nobler, sweeter song, I’ll sing Thy power to save.’ Weird, right?”
“A little.” Duke rolled his shoulders back as someone stepped from the small building in the distance.
Andi followed his gaze and saw a man who had to be Joe Prospector. He reminded her of Jason Alexander, the actor fromSeinfeld. He wore jeans and boots, and a fur-lined trapper hat graced his head.
“I’ve got to go right now, but I’ll check in later,” Duke told Mariella. “Good work. Keep seeing what you can dig up on this guy.”
He slid his phone back in his pocket as he turned toward the man.
Andi swallowed hard as she prepared herself to question her first witness.
No, not question her first witness.
That was her old life.
But maybe this conversation would yield some answers.
* * *
Duke stared at the man he assumed was Joe Prospector Grunfeld.
“Can I help you?” the guy muttered as he slowed his steps but didn’t stop.
“Are you Joe?” Duke started.
The man bristled, his beady eyes sweeping back and forth between them. “Why are you asking?”
“We have a few questions for you.” Andi stepped closer on the other side of this guy, as if blocking him in. “We’re investigating the murder of Henrietta Blanco, and your name came up.”
Joe Prospector continued walking, shaking his head as he brushed them off. “I have nothing more to say. I’ve talked to the police already.”
