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Kit sat back in her chair, thinking. “Connor and I wondered about the knife. It didn’t match any of Mr. Flynn’s other knives, but he could have bought that one nice knife. Did you know they cost a hundred to two hundred apiece?”
Alicia chuckled. “Yes, Kit. My wife has a set and she guards them zealously. I once used one of her Wüsthofs to cut open a box and I thought she’d divorce me on the spot.”
“The horror,” Kit deadpanned. “Okay, so whoever killed Mr. Flynn went to a lot of trouble to make us think that they used a butcher knife. They took their stiletto knife with them, so now I’m wondering why. Was it to throw us off the trail, or did they have an attachment to their knife? Or was the knife singular to them in some way?”
Alicia shrugged and went back to eating her cake. “That’s your job.”
“That it is. Do you have anything more on Mr. Flynn?”
“Nope, but I do have something you’re gonna love on Mr. Crawford.” Alicia opened another photo file and Kit flinched.
“God, Alicia, dick pics? Really?”
“A special dick pic. This is Mr. Crawford.”
Kit made a face. “That’s something I’ll never unsee. Why are you showing it to me?”
“Because of this.” Again Alicia enlarged the photo and pointed. “Right here.”
Kit leaned in…then grinned. “Lipstick? Wine-colored lipstick?”
“Or a deep purple. I’ve sent samples of it off to the lab as well. You look like this sounds familiar.”
“Oh yeah. Sam Reeves said he saw lipstick stains that color on Mr. Crawford’s shirt as recently as a month ago.”
“This is a little more personal than his shirt,” Alicia said dryly.
Kit huffed a laugh. “Yeah, it is. This means he was with someone shortly before he was killed. I need to find her.”
“Or him,” Alicia said.
“Or him,” Kit agreed. “Connor and I think he was having an affair with someone. He wasn’t with his wife. Or at least the wife says so. We’re checking out her alibi.”
“It looks like he tried to wipe the lipstick off. This bit was kind of…hiding. I nearly missed it. If he was having an affair, he probably wouldn’t have wanted his wife to know. But don’t limit your search to women.”
Kit nodded, appreciating the criticism, because Alicia was right, just as Connor had been. Jumping to conclusions about gender simply wasn’t good detective work. “I won’t. Connor thinks Flynn’s killer was male, based on the angle of the wound, because Flynn was very tall. But that would only be true if they made that cut when Flynn was standing.” She rose and paced the length of Alicia’s small office. “What if Flynn came home, surprised an intruder, and they whipped out a blade to stab him?”
“After a struggle. There were defensive wounds on Mr. Flynn’s hands.”
“And the killer took his fingernails down to the nail bed,” Kit recalled. “So they struggle and the killer pulls the stiletto on Flynn—” She frowned. “Can you tell if the original cut came from top down or bottom up?”
“Top down.”
“So they plunged the stiletto into Flynn’s sternum and dragged it down. Still took a lot of strength.”
“Yes, it would have. But the original wound wasn’t as long as the one made by the knife left in his body. That second cut could have been made when he was lying on the floor.”
“Because he’d been stabbed already. He did seem…posed. Now we need to find out where the butcher knife came from. And where Flynn’s killer stashed the stiletto. Thank you, Alicia.”
Alicia scraped the plate with the fork, licking away the remaining crumbs. “You’re welcome. Thank you for the cake. Call me tomorrow around noon. I should have some of the tox results by then.”
“Will do.” Kit’s mind was filling with to-do lists. It was going to be a long evening.
Chapter Six
Kearny Mesa, San Diego, California
Monday, November 7, 9:00 p.m.
