“NFL,” Brad corrected. “And it’s nothing more than a friendly competition. We laughed about it all the time.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” He turned back to the crime scene.
More CSIs brought out evidence as officers continued going in and out of the house.
Brad weaved his way through the neighbors, listening.
One more person stopped him and brought up the feud between him and Duke.
“The man is dead,” Brad blurted. “A life taken needlessly, and all anyone can think about is our friendly rivalry. Seriously, what do you people think of me?”
More than a dozen people turned and stared.
“That’s right!” he continued. “This is the last thing I wanted — the last thing he deserved. I wasn’t even home at the time, so you can all stop pointing fingers and start trying to figure out who actually did this.”
Several people spoke, but Brad marched away before saying something he might regret. He and Faye didn’t even have a solid alibi yet.
A round of gasps as he reached the edge of the property, then turned back to see the coroners bringing out the body bag.
He paused and took in the sight, a heaviness settling over him as the reality of his dead neighbor washed over him.
As the coroners turned, the side of the bag showed the logo for Winchester body bags. The company had gone under more than a year earlier. That meant the city probably got the bags on clearance.
He chuckled at the thought.
Neighbors turned and glared.
Brad covered his mouth and coughed.
Lucas, still patting the quivering dog, gave him the stink-eye.
The detective made eye contact, then started walking toward him.
Brad hurried inside. He needed to speak with his boss immediately.
Before things got even more out of control.
Chapter Six
Faye paced the hall, pausing every so often outside Brad’s locked office. He was on the phone, but the words were too muffled to make anything out. Was he consulting with an attorney? Talking to his boss? Kurt seemed to know every lawyer in the state of Washington.
She stopped and leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths. Not that it slowed her pounding heart. How could she have lied to the police? The words had spilled out of her mouth before she had time to consider the implications. But at least they wouldn’t look at her as the last person to see Duke alive.
Unless the truth came out.
Brad had promised it wouldn’t. Things may have been rocky between them recently, but he was a man of his word. They’d been through hell and back over the years, and they would make it through this, too.
Besides, her lie didn’t matter. It wasn’t like she’d killed the guy. She’d only cut his hair. Right before he was murdered.
Blood drained from her body. What if her prints were on him? Her mind raced, going over every moment she’d spent with him. Her hands had been busy with the comb and scissors. If she’d touched anything, it’d only been his hair. The police couldn’t get prints off that, surely. Besides, he’d run gel through it before leaving. Any traces of her should be gone.
Unless she’d dropped skin cells, or he’d picked up one of her strands of hair.
No, that was crazy. She watched too many crime dramas. This was real life.
Maybe Duke had said something that might offer her a clue as to who would soon kill him. He’d been excited about his girlfriend, it was a big weekend for her, and he’d wanted to look his best. Anything else?
Work. He’d talked about his job, which seemed like a joke, but actually did well for him since he’d been able to buy a house in their neighborhood as a single guy. He was a top seller of fitness products for a multi-level marketing company and made bank selling courses to other MLM hopefuls. But it hadn’t come up in their conversation the night before.
Or had it? Faye hadn’t been paying particularly close attention. It wasn’t like she’d expected him to be dead within hours. She’d been more concerned about Brad coming home early and freaking out about Duke being in their house. He got annoyed when Faye said hi to the guy, so he’d lose it if he saw him in their house.
Brad raised his voice in his office.
She scooted closer to the door and strained to make out any words. It sounded like he said blade, not that it would be surprising if he were talking to Kurt. They both lived and breathed knives, collecting them. Kurt seemed determined to own every expensive luxury blade ever produced, while Brad was drawn to antiques. The reason he’d installed the fancy lock on his office door was to make sure the children would never discover his collection and accidentally hurt themselves.
Her husband’s voice softened, and again she tried to recall an important detail of her brief time with Duke the night before. The only thing that stood out was his girlfriend. It seemed unlikely that she could have done it, given how he talked about her. The man had been head-over-heels, his expression lighting up with every word dedicated to her as the subject. If he was to be believed, the woman walked on water. Faye had thought the girlfriend was lucky — his excitement brought back memories of the days Brad had looked at her like that — and she had hoped the lady might soon become her neighbor. Faye could use a friend who wasn’t superficial, like so many of her neighbors.
The office door flung open, and Brad stepped into the hall.
She spun around.
“Were you listening to me?”
“No. I was waiting.”
The lines around his eyes were deeper now. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have anything to hide. What about you?”
She swallowed, forcing away images of Duke in their kitchen. “No.”
“Why did you lie to the cops?”
“I told you—”
He stepped closer, his expression softening. “I need the truth. For the cover story to work, I need to know exactly what happened last night.”
“It was nothing. I need you to trust me.”
“Trust you? You’re lying.”
“Not to you.” Her pulse drummed in her ears.
His mouth formed a straight line, but he put a gentle hand on her arm. “Faye, honey, we’re on the same team. I have to come up with a whole new alibi because of something you blurted to the police. Let me in.”
She swallowed. “In the bedroom.”
He threaded his fingers through hers and led her down the hallway. They sat on the bed, the silence seeming to linger forever.
She squeezed his hand. “We’re going to get through this, just like everything else over the years. I was Zeke’s age when we first got together. Can you believe that? I can’t picture him with a girlfriend, but that’s how old I was. And you were—”
“I don’t need a history lesson. I was there, remember?”
“Yes, but sometimes it helps to think about the things we’ve accomplished. We’ve survived so much. Your dad’s murder—”
Brad stiffened. “Don’t bring that up.”
Her breath hitched. “I’m just saying we got through that together. You’ve always said I was your rock. If we could manage that as teenagers, we can definitely navigate this now that we have teens of our own.”
“What does age have to do with anything? Stop trying to change the subject. Why did you lie about last night? Kurt is going to find us an attorney, and we have to tell that attorney the truth — as quickly as possible. Those people charge by the hour. Aside from that, if you can’t tell me what really happened, what do we have together?”
His words were like an arrow to the heart. But at the same time, he could see the truth as a betrayal. Especially if he found out that she cut Duke’s hair every other week at the salon. Most husbands wouldn’t care because it was totally innocent, but not hers. Brad couldn’t stand the guy. Didn’t want any of them talking to Duke.
“Well?”
She tried to swallow the lump growing in her throat, but it only grew bigger as she gathered the nerve to
tell him. “I spoke with Duke last night.”
Brad tilted his head.
She was not going to cry. “He came over and asked me to trim his hair for a date.”
“But you said no.” It wasn’t a question.
“Duke was desperate. He wanted to look his best for his girlfriend — really wanted to impress her. It had nothing to do with me. Nothing happened.”
“You let him into our house?”
“Just the kitchen. It was a quick trim.”
“Why you?” Brad’s voice rose. “Why not Supercuts down the road?”
“Are you serious? He knew I’m a professional stylist, and nothing was open at that hour.”
“I can’t believe you said yes.”
“It was just a trim! And it can’t hurt to offer a little friendliness to our neighbors.”
“To him, it can.”
“He’s dead now. What does it matter?”
Brad leaped from the bed. “The doorbell camera. His visit will be on there. What if the cops want to see the footage? They’ll find out everything.”
“They’ll also see that nothing happened. He left here alive and well, eager to see his girlfriend.”
“We have to tell them about her.”
“What?” she exclaimed. “I can’t let them know he was over here last night.”
“You don’t have to. Just say he mentioned it another time. What’s one more lie?”
She jolted.
“I need to see the footage.” He pulled out his phone and opened the app, tapping on his screen.
Faye’s stomach knotted. She didn’t have anything to hide, but Brad would flip when he saw her on the screen talking with Duke.
What if one of them had mentioned her being his regular stylist? She hadn’t thought about the camera. Did it pick up voices or just video? Her mind was everywhere at once, making it impossible to think straight. They could talk to people at the door through the app, but that didn’t mean the video picked up sound.
Brad swore and held out his phone. “Video proof of the dead guy entering our home.”
“I know.”
“Is there a way to delete this?”
She shrugged. “Never tried.”
He tapped the screen furiously. “Does this store back-ups?”
“You’re the one who picked out the system.”
“I can’t remember everything.” He didn’t look up. “Would you look at the app on your phone and see if you can figure it out? Tick-tock.”
She went into the settings and looked around, not seeing anything about cloud back-ups.
Ding-dong!
They exchanged wide-eyed glances.
“Dad!” Zeke called. “The police officers are here again!”
Brad vented a string of profanities. “We’re leaving the phones up here.”
Chapter Seven
Brad hurried down the stairs, stopping only to send Luna to her room.
Thankfully, Zeke hadn’t yet opened the door.
Brad put an arm around his son. “Just tell them you didn’t know Duke. That’s all you have to say. They have no right to harass us. We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Okay.”
Knock, knock.
Brad stood taller and answered the door. “What a surprise, officers. Can I help you?”
The duo exchanged a look before the detective spoke. “We have a few more questions for you.”
He hid his annoyance with a half-smile. “Of course. Ask away.”
She glanced behind him. “Can we come in?”
“If it’s just a few questions, this should be fine.”
“We’d prefer to come in. This won’t take long if you cooperate.”
“Are you suggesting that I’m not cooperating?”
“Not at all. May we step inside?”
Brad relented but blocked the entrance to the sitting room. “So. Your questions?”
The detective closed the door behind her. “Tell us about your relationship with the deceased.”
“We had no relationship — none of us. Barely knew the guy.”
Sergeant Lewis arched a brow. “You lived next door to him and had no relationship with him?”
“Not much more than a friendly wave every once in a while.” Brad looked to Faye and Zeke, who both nodded in agreement.
Detective Stewart took a step closer. “Aside from your feuding?”
“You make it sound like we were enemies. But it was nothing like that. We were friendly competitors, always trying to see who could have the best Christmas decorations or the biggest fireworks show.”
“How did that start?” asked Lewis.
Brad drew in a deep breath as he tried to remember. “Everyone always came over here to see the fireworks or holiday decorations. Shortly after Duke moved in, he decided to show the neighborhood what he could do. At some point, it turned into something of a game. I appreciated his efforts, they inspired me. I’d started to get a bit stagnant.”
“So, you enjoyed the rivalry?” The detective made a note on her tablet.
“Yes. When there’s competition, everyone wins. Who loves a monopoly?”
“The person at the top.” Lewis stared Brad down.
“Not me. Like I said, Duke was just what I needed. Before he moved in, I had half the Panthers paraphernalia.”
The cops exchanged another look before the detective turned to Zeke. “Does that sound right to you?”
“Yeah, totally.”
“Did you know Duke?”
Zeke shrugged. “Not really.”
“Not really?”
“We didn’t have anything in common. He is — was — this totally cool dude, and I’m well, me.” Zeke pulled on his thick curls and looked down at his shirt, which bore a Dungeons & Dragons reference splattered in what looked like goblin blood across the front.
Brad leaned toward Zeke and tried to get his attention by clearing his throat.
His son didn’t look up.
Detective Stewart gave him a funny look and made more notes before turning to Faye. “What about you? Did you know the deceased?”
“Barely knew the guy.”
“Never talked to him?”
A beat of silence passed before she answered. “Rarely.”
“How often was ‘rarely’?” The detective leaned forward.
Brad took advantage of her distraction and waved at Zeke.
Still nothing.
“Every couple of weeks?” Faye said. “I don’t know. It wasn’t something I paid much attention to.”
“And your daughters?” asked Lewis. “How often did they talk to him?”
“They had no interactions with him. None. Not at all.”
Brad tensed. She was overdoing it, but he couldn’t expect her to handle these situations as well as he did — she had no experience with any of this.
“None at all?”
“The kids are friendly,” Brad interjected. “Surely, they said hello to him. But nothing beyond that. What would they have in common with him to talk about?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
Brad resisted the urge to clench his fists. “Are you questioning any other neighbors this much?”
“Your name is the one that keeps coming up. Some people seem to think you’d be glad to have him out of the way.”
Brad laughed. “Let me guess — bored housewives with nothing better to do than gossip about neighbors?”
She glowered at him. “We’d like to speak with your daughters.”
“No. Luna’s only seven. She doesn’t need to know about any of this.”
“And Hadley?”
“Not here.” The last thing Brad needed was for them to question his daughter at school.
“Where is she?”
“It doesn’t matter because you aren’t going to say one word to her without us present. I’m aware of my family’s rights.”
“Noted. Where is Hadley?”
Faye stood next
to Brad. “She’s in a play. She has three performances today.”
“Are you going to any?” asked the detective.
“Of course we are. Her final show tonight.”
Brad throttled a groan. Without a doubt, they’d see those two at the school auditorium that evening. “If that’s all, we’ll see you to the door.”
They didn’t budge. “Does ‘Angel Eyes’ mean anything to you?”
Brad and Faye exchanged a confused glance.
“Should it?” he asked.
“Just asking.” The detective looked at her tablet. “One more thing — what can you tell me about the Valderdorf knife?”
He jolted. It was one of BlueBlade’s rarest and most expensive knives, with a distinctive curve to the blade, mostly purchased by collectors. That had to have been the one used to kill Duke. No other reason they’d bring it up. “It’s one of my company’s knives. Why?”
The two officers exchanged yet another look.
Sergeant Lewis handed him her card. “Call me if you think of anything that might be helpful.”
No response before he ushered them outside.
He closed the door and turned to his son.
Zeke’s face paled, and he raced up the stairs.
“This just keeps getting better,” Brad said.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“And I’ll take care of everything else.” He trudged up the stairs, pressure like a gathering storm behind his temples.
Chapter Eight
Hadley held her breath, bracing herself for the final scene.
Every seat was filled, and her entire family was there — even Dad. She’d barely been able to hold herself together through the trio of performances. Her saving grace was being able to throw herself into her character’s world. It moved her mind away from everything back home. With her emotions this raw, she was able to give more to her character. Bonus for her performance.
And everyone had taken note. The teacher — and most of the students — had commented on how she’d saved her best for last.
“Hadley!” Ellie tugged on her costume.
She shook her head to clear it. Realized everyone was getting into place. Forced a smile. “Just getting into the right headspace.”
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