Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter
Forty-Eight
Hoffman lowered his phone, then put it back to his ear. “I’ve got to go,” he said before ending the call.
He strode across the street.
I took a step back and bumped into the brick wall behind me.
“It’ll be fine,” Wyatt said, quietly enough so only I would hear.
I shot him a look of incredulity before facing my ex.
“Did you follow me here?” Hoffman demanded, his muddy brown eyes sparking with fury.
“Yes.” I didn’t see any point in lying. What else would I be doing there?
Hoffman took in the sight of Wyatt standing next to me. “You and your detective,” he said with a heavy dose of disdain. “You’re never going to prove that I stole anything from you.”
“Maybe not,” I conceded with a fake sweet smile, “but I’m betting we can prove that you murdered Freddie Hanover.”
“You’re the one who sicced the cops on me?” Hoffman shook his head with disgust. “I should’ve known.” He stepped right up into my personal space, trying to intimidate me. “You really think you’ll get away with this?”
Wyatt put a hand to Hoffman’s chest, exerting just enough pressure to send him back a step.
My ex glared at him. “Get your hands off me.”
Wyatt didn’t move a muscle. “Only if you stay back.”
The two men engaged in a brief staring contest. Rage still contorted Hoffman’s face, but he blinked first and took another step back.
“Why the hell would I kill some guy I didn’t even know?” he asked, returning his attention to me.
“You were at the Mirage on the day of the murder,” I said. “You were caught on camera.”
“I came to bring you flowers. Then I changed my mind. That’s not a crime.”
“Why would you bring me flowers?” I asked, momentarily distracted by the question that had bothered me ever since seeing him on the Mirage’s security footage.
“I thought we could get back together. Then I came to my senses.”
Beside me, Wyatt shifted but didn’t speak.
“You mean you were trying to butter me up so I’d call off my private detective.” I didn’t believe for a second that he still harbored any positive feelings toward me. If he ever did. “Does Tiffany know you bought roses for another woman?”
“Don’t you dare tell her.” He tried to take a step closer, but Wyatt’s hand landed on his chest again. He glared down at it but stayed in place, even after Wyatt removed his hand.
I decided to get back on track. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. What matters is the murder.”
“I had nothing to do with that.”
“Then why were you in the building so long after you dumped the roses?” Wyatt asked.
“That’s none of your business.”
“I think you saw Freddie disappear into the vintage phone booth,” I said.
“I bet you waited until Freddie was out of the way, and then you discovered the speakeasy and all the old booze. You wanted to make some money by selling it, so you took a bottle. But Freddie caught you and tried to take the liquor back. The bottle broke during the struggle. Then you hit him over the head with the croquet mallet that was in Freddie’s office. ”
The scenario played out with unpleasant clarity in my head.
Hoffman’s face flushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I didn’t believe that for a second. “You’re lying. What’s in the bag you brought here?”
He didn’t have it on him at the moment.
“A bottle of water and a script.”
“No booze?”
His face contorted.
“Hello, Emersyn!” a familiar voice called out.
I was so engrossed in the fight with my ex that it took me a good three seconds to realize that Leona Lavish stood across the street, holding a reusable water bottle. Her presence took me so much by surprise that I momentarily forgot about Hoffman.
I crossed the road. “Leona? What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing, darling.” She gestured at the warehouse behind her with a languid hand. “I teach acting classes here.”
“In the warehouse?” That struck me as odd.
“It’s been converted into studio spaces. All sorts of classes are taught here. Stained glass, pottery, drama, you name it.” She glided a step closer to me. “If you want to sign up for one of my classes, I could give you the friends and family discount. Five percent off.”
“That’s sweet,” I said as Wyatt joined us on the sidewalk. “But I don’t think acting is my thing.”
“You never know until you try it.” Leona took a sip of her water.
I peered closely at the reusable bottle. It had the words Grub Tubz printed on it.
“Is that the same brand of water bottle that Minnie has?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
“She gave it to me as a sample product.” Leona screwed the cap back on. “I think she’s hoping I’ll like it enough to buy more Grub Tubz containers.”
“Minnie sells the products?” I glanced Wyatt’s way and could tell he was wondering why I was so interested.
“It’s a side hustle,” Leona explained.
“Did she ever sell some to Freddie?” I asked, ignoring Hoffman as he sidled up to us.
“I don’t know, but she might have. Or maybe she gave him a sample too.
Before he ended up on her bad side, that is.
She’s given samples to several people in the building.
It’s a good way to drum up business.” She addressed Hoffman next.
“Break’s over in two minutes.” She smiled at me.
“See you at the Mirage, Emersyn.” She wiggled her fingers in a wave as she disappeared back inside the warehouse.
“Hold on.” I swung around to face Hoffman. “You’re taking acting lessons?”
Hoffman shrugged one shoulder. “I’m thinking of moving to Hollywood.”
I felt sorry for Hollywood but happy for myself and the rest of New York City. Except…
“You won’t be going anywhere other than to jail,” I said, not at all sorry that I might be bursting his bubble.
His eyes filled with scorn. “I didn’t kill anyone. And if you ever try spying on me again, I’m going to call the police and tell them you’re harassing me.”
He turned on his heel and stormed into the warehouse, slamming the door shut behind him.
“He’s a nasty piece of work,” Wyatt remarked once we were alone.
“If only I’d realized that much sooner,” I said with a sigh of regret.
But Hoffman could be charming when he wanted to be, and I’d so wanted to believe that he was as crazy about me as he’d pretended to be.
I stared at the brick exterior of the warehouse, my thoughts swirling.
“What are you thinking?” Wyatt asked.
“Minnie told me that she never talked to Freddie, except maybe to say hello, but he had a Grub Tubz flyer in his apartment.”
“And he probably got it from Minnie.”
I nodded. “She must have talked to him more than she admitted to.”
Wyatt drew the same conclusion as I had. “So she lied.”
“And why do that if she had nothing to hide?”