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Absolutely no sign of a laptop or other computer. Unless Jeffrey had hidden it under the sink or something, it must have been stashed someplace else.
Frowning, I went into the kitchen, doing my best to continue breathing through my mouth. A quick glance inside the refrigerator told me the likely source of the sour smell was a couple of containers of ancient Chinese takeout, and I closed the door quickly and turned back toward the living room, hands on my hips and what I guessed was a fearsome frown wrinkling my brow.
Had Jeffrey Sellers been one of those Luddites who didn’t believe in having any kind of computer, or was I missing something?
Maybe it was in his car, I thought then. He had to have driven to Globe, so he must have left his car somewhere in town.
That thought cheered me a little. Unless you had a derelict vehicle taking up space in your front yard or left it blocking a neighbor’s driveway, the Globe P.D. rarely wasted its time writing parking tickets. It was entirely possible that Jeffrey’s car was still sitting on a side street somewhere, collecting dust. Maybe at some point someone would call it in as abandoned and it would get towed, but that process could take up to a month or more.
Which meant I might have been looking in entirely the wrong place.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.
Time to get back to Globe…but also to call Sara Tilden to ask her if she knew what kind of car Jeffrey drove. I had to imagine she’d know, just because they’d probably carpooled to dance tournaments from time to time.
However, I’d only taken a few steps across the shabby living room when the front door suddenly swung inward. Steely gray eyes met mine.
“Selena Marx,” Henry Lewis said. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I didn’t break in,” I told him after I recovered from my shock. “The door was unlocked when I got here.”
One eyebrow lifted, but then Henry surprised me by saying, “I didn’t think you had. I may not appreciate some of your methods, Ms. Marx, but breaking and entering seems a little beneath you.”
My anxious stomach unclenched a bit, even as I found myself very, very glad that Henry Lewis wasn’t a mind reader. Otherwise, he would have seen that the only reason I hadn’t resorted to picking the lock to let myself into the apartment was because I didn’t know how.
“There’s nothing here,” I told him, figuring we might as well plow ahead. “I already checked the whole place.”
He sent me a cool stare. “Maybe,” he allowed. “But I’m sure you won’t mind if I look around myself?”
“Go ahead,” I said magnanimously. “But I think I’m going to wait outside. I can’t take the smell in here anymore.”
That might have been a gleam of amusement in his flinty eyes. “Probably a good idea. This shouldn’t take me very long.”
After delivering that comment, he walked into the bedroom, while I stepped outside. The warm breeze that stirred the oleanders planted next to the postage stamp of a front porch felt like heaven after the stinky confines of the apartment, and I breathed in deeply, glad that my stomach already felt like it was beginning to settle down.
While I waited, I pulled out my phone to check on the time. Just past one, so I knew there was no way in hell I was going to make it to Globe before two, and maybe not even by then. I could only hope that Melanie had taken my advice and had closed up shop so she could grab some lunch.
Henry emerged from the apartment a few minutes after that, wearing his characteristically expressionless expression. “What were you looking for?” he asked.
“A computer or a laptop,” I replied. “There was nothing at his office.”
The line between the police chief’s brows deepened at that reply, telling me he wasn’t too thrilled to learn I’d already visited Jeffrey Sellers’ office. “When did you go there?”
“Yesterday,” I replied, even as I made a mental vow not to mention that Calvin had been with me. I added, “And no, I didn’t break in. Jeffrey Sellers’ dance partner gave me the key.”
“Sara Tilden?” Henry asked, and I nodded.
He didn’t look too happy with that revelation, but probably decided there wasn’t much he could do about it. Jeffrey had given Sara the key, and with him gone, it was her choice as to what she wanted to do with it.
“But you didn’t find anything,” he commented.
“Well, I didn’t find a laptop,” I said, then paused. Should I even mention NancyAnne Nielsen?
For all I knew, Henry had already learned about her existence, probably from court records. Being a cop gave you access to all sorts of information an ordinary citizen wouldn’t be able to lay their hands on, so it was entirely possible that what I thought was a big secret was a nothingburger to him.
“But you found something else,” Henry said.
Not for the first time, I cursed my complete lack of any kind of poker face. You’d think after investigating all these murders and encountering all sorts of crazy stuff, I’d be a little better at keeping my thoughts to myself.
