Chapter 11
I spent hours that afternoon taping off the windows and fixtures in the kitchen. Singing off-key—the only way I could sing—as I prepared to paint, I took extra care with the natural gas lines that stuck out of the wall, and the lever that kept the gas turned off until it was hooked to my new oven. I had gotten a call from someone who was interested in the grill, which thrilled me no end. The money would come in handy in stocking my kitchen without having to dip into my savings for it.
I moved to the front window, where customers would be able to watch me decorating cakes, building flowers, frosting and check out the fun and flashy projects I imagined in my future. The purple tape—I love it you can buy painting tape in every color under the sun—contrasted nicely against the yellowed once-white paint. I bobbed my head to the tune coming through my headphones when Detective Tingey came to stand in front of me on the other side of the glass. I paused as he pointed to the door and I nodded. Great. What did he want this time? To arrest me?
As I turned, I bumped one of my razor blades into the crack in the middle of the ordering counter. The blade was pointed down, and it was wedged in there. I tried pulling on it, but decided I’d deal with it when the cabinets came out. I made a mental note to cover it with tape later so I didn’t cut myself on it.
I unlocked the front door and let the detective in. “Miss Crawford, sorry to bother you again. I wondered if you’d thought of anything more that might be helpful from Saturday morning.”
I could have told him about the things I’d picked up from poking around, but there wasn’t anything concrete, so I kept my conjectures to myself and stuck to the facts. “Not really. I’ve been trying to remember more but haven’t come up with much.”
He nodded. “I did have one other thing I’d like you to do. Could you go get fingerprinted?”
I took a step back at his request as my heart began to race. I’d known he was considering me, but the request still took me by surprise. “So you do think I did it?”
“It’s a formality. We found prints on the murder weapon, but they don’t match anything in the database. We’re asking everyone we know who had access to the room to please come forward and be printed so we can eliminate suspects.”
Cold washed down my back. He said it so casually, as if it was an unimportant request, and not the serious expectation I read in his eyes. “But I already told you I touched that vase.”
“Yes. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I don’t know why you’d have been wandering around the hotel at that hour.” He leaned against the counter and studied the dining area. “Looks like this place is going to keep you busy.”
“Yes, there’s lots of work to do before I open.” I pressed my lips together as a frisson of fear rushed through me. “I can go have the fingerprinting done.” What difference would it make? I definitely wanted to appear cooperative, and he could always get a court order. I gripped the tape roll in my left hand until the cardboard center left impressions in my fingers. “I’ll be in as soon as I finish taping off this window.”
I had no real choice, unless I wanted to go on the lam in some country that wouldn’t extradite for capital punishment. Besides, he had to have better suspects than me. Hadn’t Jeff suggested that everyone had motive to kill Valerie? Still, I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my back and had to feign indifference to worry.
“I appreciate that.” He tucked his notebook back in his pocket and headed out. Before he closed the door, he reminded me to lock up behind him. After all, there was a killer on the loose.
I gave the lock a vicious twist. Thanks for the reassurance, detective.
Getting fingerprinted wasn’t nearly the ordeal I’d expected. The officer at the precinct was friendly, chatting with me about the weather, asked about any hiking trails I’d been on. He sounded interested in the business when I opened it and asked what kind of daily offerings I would have for purchase. I admit, I had expected something out of a hard-boiled detective show with gruff jailers and hard stares pinning the guilt for everything on my shoulders. I’d seen way too much television, I guess.
I left there grateful that the detour had been quick and that it was over with, then popped by the hardware store to order the paint for my building.