man.
“Hi Mr.… Morris, was it?” Dante asked from behind the counter.
“Call me David,” the private investigator told him. “May I have a word?”
“Um, I’m supposed to keep an eye on the register and help the customers. Darrin’s in the back cleaning the stove.”
“I don’t see any customers,” David said. “Come join me at one of these tables. Moira wouldn’t mind.”
The young man nervously edged out from behind the protection of the glass counter and sat opposite the private investigator at the bistro table. David let out a sigh when he saw the employee’s shoes. They matched the photo on his phone, which meant the tread matched the prints in the snow outside of Emilia Washburn’s house.
“Where is she?” he asked.
“W-what?” the young man said. He blinked, his face showing surprise but no fear.
“Martha,” he said. “You know, the sister of the woman that you murdered?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Dante was staring at him wide-eyed. Frowning, David slid the picture of the two snowy footprints across the table towards him.
“One of these is yours, I took it right after you left the deli yesterday. The other one was found outside of Emilia’s house the night someone broke in. So either you killed her, or you just decided that it would be a good idea to rob a dead woman’s house,” he said. He slid his phone across the table next, with the picture of the shoe from the shoe store that had the same tread as the two footprints.
“I double-checked. This was the only shoe I could find that has the exact same tread pattern. You’re wearing the same shoe right this second.”
Dante stared at the photos for a moment, shock spreading across his face. He pushed them away, meeting David’s gaze with his own panicked eyes.
“I didn’t do it. You have to believe me.” He took in a shuddering breath. “I wasn’t even in town the night of the storm; I got caught in the blizzard and had to stay at a motel about an hour away. I used my bank card. I’m sure there’s a record of it somewhere. I can call my bank. they’ll tell you.”
David held up a hand, cutting the young man off.
“Get your bank on the line, now,” he ordered.
If the kid was telling the truth—and judging by his reaction, it was likely—someone else was the killer, and Moira could be in a whole heap of trouble.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Moira’s first thought was that the murderer was at the hotel, and that James was in danger. She had already started towards the door with her phone out and her thumb hovering over the button that would speed-dial the police when a more horrifying thought occurred to her. Could it be that James himself was the killer?
No, she thought . It doesn’t make sense. Why would he steal from his own family, and stalk and kill his two sisters? She had to admit that no matter how horrible it seemed, the evidence was there. According to Martha, Emilia only recently had been having things go missing, and James had only recently come to town. Emilia would have let her brother in if he had come to her during the storm, which could explain the extra coffee cup and the fact that David hadn’t been able to find any evidence of forced entry at her friend’s house.
He also would have had access to Martha’s apartment, and could have easily stolen her key from Emilia’s key chain; more likely, Martha had just given him one. But what motive could he have? She wondered. She didn’t know enough about the family to even guess, but she had the feeling that her terrible suspicion was true. James must be the one who had been stealing from his sisters. He had already killed one, and now Moira might be just a few yards away from where he was threatening Martha.
It was all she could do to keep herself from charging in. I have to be smart , she thought. She knew that she could easily end up as dead as Emilia was if she wasn’t careful. The smart thing to do would be to call the
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