Chapter 31
Noah
The parking lot is dark, lit by a scatter of twinkle lights and the glow off the circus tent behind us, a pink beacon burning against the night sky.
The stars are out, sharp and clear, and the air has cooled enough that I can see my breath. Ivy and I lean against my truck, running the case one more time before the whole circus pulls up stakes tomorrow and takes our suspects with it.
“Lavinia’s prints were all over the knife,” Ivy says, scrolling her notes. “But the knife was hers to begin with, so that proves exactly nothing.”
“Right,” I agree. “And her alibi is shaky without being impossible. She was performing during the window, but she had a gap during intermission.”
“What about Poppy?”
“Parking tickets,” I say. “She confessed the whole thing to me earlier. Said she was planning to come clean to Lottie too.”
“To Lottie?” Ivy balks. “Figures. Lottie Lemon’s got every suspect at this circus convinced she’s the one about to slap the cuffs on them.”
She isn’t wrong, so I let it stand. “Jump was blackmailing Poppy over the unpaid tickets. She was terrified of doing time. But I don’t see her killing a man over something that minor.”
Ivy raises an eyebrow. “Murder doesn’t have to make sense.”
“True. But my gut says it isn’t her.”
Ivy nods. “And your mother?”
I tense, the way I have every single time her name has come up this week.
“She had motive. I won’t pretend otherwise. She wanted to confront him the night he died, and she did. But she found him with a knife already in his chest.”
“You believe her?”
“I do.” I keep my voice level. “She’s a lot of things. She isn’t a killer.”
I hope.
Ivy doesn’t argue. She doesn’t have to. The doubt sits right there in her eyes, and I don’t blame her for it, because if Suze Fox were anybody else’s mother, I’d be looking just as hard.
I pull out my phone and bring up the photos of the financial ledgers, the ones Lottie snapped while I kept Graham distracted in his office. I’ve been over them a hundred times, hunting for patterns, discrepancies, anything pointing to a motive past romance and revenge.
“Let me see those again,” Ivy says, leaning over my shoulder.
I scroll through the images. Page after page of expenses. Equipment. Costumes. Feed for the animals. Salaries. Repairs. And then it catches.
“Hold on.” I stop on one page. “Here’s a pattern I missed last night.”
Ivy squints at the screen. “What am I looking at?”
“Three Rings Equipment and Rigging.” I tap it. “They’re all over this ledger with big charges. Thousands at a clip. And then there’s Golden Ring Supply Company, smaller amounts, but steady. Both show up regularly.”
“So?”
I pull up a browser and search Three Rings Equipment and Rigging.
Nothing. No website. No business listing.
No address, no phone number, no trace it ever drew breath.
I try Golden Ring Supply Company. A site loads on the spot.
Professional. Legitimate. Headquartered in Nevada with a physical address and a customer service line a person can actually call.
“One of them exists,” I say slowly. “The other one’s a ghost.”
Ivy’s eyes grow in size. “You think someone’s been embezzling.”
“I think someone’s been inventing invoices and pocketing the difference.” I keep scrolling. “And if Jump found out—”
“He’d squeeze them for it,” Ivy finishes.
“He would. It’s the one thing the man was reliably good at.”
I pocket the phone. “I’m going in to find Lottie.”
Ivy frowns. “Why?”
“Because if I know my wife, she’s already three steps ahead of both of us and didn’t think to mention it.”
Ivy rolls her eyes. “Of course she is. And news flash—she’s not your wife.”
I don’t bother rectifying the slip-up.
“Call for backup,” I say, already pushing off the car. “I have a feeling we’re going to need it.”
“Noah—”
I’m already gone, sprinting for the pink glow of the big top with my heart pounding harder than my legs.
Lottie thinks she’s got the ghost of an elephant watching her back. A ghost cannot stop a knife.
And the person who used one last is still in that tent.