Chapter 72
ANTHONY
Anthony set his audiobook aside. He watched Lil pace in her living room while she spoke on the phone, barefoot in a white knit dress that highlighted her red toenails and all those curves. She’d been on the phone for an hour, searching local obituaries and calling strangers.
He liked her voice. Smooth and steady as she contacted the family of the deceased, expressed her condolences, then asked intrusive questions, which, to Anthony’s surprise, most of the people answered.
When she ended her latest call, she turned to him with a flush of success in her cheeks. “Ashley!”
“Who’s she?” he asked.
“She’s not a she.” Lily-Ann plopped onto the couch. “Okay, that’s one. Not a pattern, but still a confirmation.”
“Of what, Lil?”
“Shh,” she said, and stared at him.
Or maybe she stared through him, her mind working on a problem he didn’t understand.
She didn’t move, so he didn’t move either.
He didn’t mind stillness. Time passed, then her phone dinged.
She didn’t look at the screen, so when his dinged a moment later, he read the message aloud.
“Ocean says Sunny Wheeler’s scandal was an off-the-books blood transfusion operation at VivX. ”
Lily-Ann’s gaze didn’t falter. “Mm.”
“For life extension.” He continued to read. “Ocean thinks that’s why the killer cut his throat. To shed his blood. She thinks his ‘vampire blood business’ hurt someone, that’s why they murdered him. Revenge.”
Lily-Ann finally focused on him. “Hamilton mentioned that earlier. They’re wrong. I’m almost certain I know who killed them.”
“Them? Both of them?”
“Yes, both of them.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
She frowned. “I’m not completely certain.”
“Was it one person?”
“There are two killers,” she said. “I think.”
“Two killers and two bodies.”
“No,” she said. “Two killers and three bodies, at the very least.”
Anthony cracked his knuckles as he considered.
Three bodies? Who else was dead? Nobody.
Except maybe CJ, given that note. And she was the only suspect who made sense.
She’d inherited over a hundred grand. Nobody else seemed to care about that, but plenty of people would kill for a couple hundred.
Plus, she’d disappeared without saying goodbye to Mrs. B.
So maybe she’d killed herself out of guilt.
That would’ve been easier to believe if she weren’t clearly still carrying a torch for Ocean.
He grabbed two beers from the fridge, poured one into a glass with a wedge of lime, and returned to the living room. When he set Lil’s beer on the coaster, she looked at the glass for a few seconds, then her expression changed, blossoming into something softer.
“What?” he said.
“You didn’t forget my lime.”
“’Course not.”
She said, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
“It’s about time. I’ve loved you for months.”
She nodded briskly, then turned away to hide the flush of pleasure on her cheeks, which made him love her even more. “Good!” she said. “Good. So, uh, where were we?”
“You think you know who killed them, but you’re not sure.”
“Right. Yes.”
“What do you need to be certain?”
“Evidence.”
“Where can we find it?”
She sipped her beer. “Do you know how to pick a lock?”
“No.”
“I thought criminals learned that in prison.”
“No.”
“Pity,” she said.
Anthony finished his beer and brought the empty to the kitchen.
Lily-Ann wasn’t fond of his cooking, but she liked how he prepped.
She’d assigned him to start the Mexican slaw, which she said paired well with the lamb, so he started slicing the cabbage thin, with a couple onions and carrots waiting their turn.
He’d never eaten so many vegetables in his life.
Lily-Ann slipped behind him, putting one hand on his waist. “I’ll make a few more phone calls.”
“What would proof look like?”
“The murder weapon. Footprints, I guess. Fingerprints or—cut the carrots into matchsticks. Though I suppose we don’t need proof, not if we’re only trying to raise reasonable doubt for CJ.”
“You think she’s alive?”
“Oh!” A worried V appeared on Lily-Ann’s forehead. “Oh, you’re right. Is she already dead?”
“Well, she vanished, tossed her cell phone—and left that note.”
Lily-Ann frowned at the cutting board. “She didn’t kill herself.”
“What did you tell Ocean?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I like her.” She kept frowning at the cutting board. “If she’s dead, why haven’t they found her? Why leave the note and not a body? Was she a threat to him?”
“To who?”
“No. She wasn’t, not really. But he needed to control the timeline.”
Anthony wiped his hands on the dish towel. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Lil.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, what do you need from me?”
She gave her head a little shake. “Could you run to the store and pick up Cointreau for margaritas?”