The Black Moth by Carolyne Topdjian

Author:Carolyne Topdjian [Topdjian, Carolyne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781957957487
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Six

The sun glowed blood orange as it tucked itself behind the mountainous horizon. Mave stood still as Sheriff Morganson joined her on the penthouse terrace. She held the railing with both hands to avoid fidgeting. The investigation of her grandmother’s murder had suggested the sheriff was a fair woman; she could be swayed to recognize the truth. But Morganson was also impossible to read and permanently intimidating. Stout. Short hair. Hawk-like gaze.

“Fresh air always helps,” Morganson said. She inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring. Mave assumed she meant to clear the stench of death. “Word has gotten out about your help finding the stolen property.” She paused and looked at Mave. “First with Mrs. Hess, then with Sandy.”

The acknowledgment gave her a slight start. “You found Sandy’s things? At Vincent’s?”

“Not quite,” Morganson said, “but after your first lead proved right, we’re taking your tip seriously, still working things out.”

She interpreted that to mean they had yet to secure a search warrant. But what about the computer equipment beneath her bed?

“Look, I know we went over all of this,” Morganson said, “but I need you to confirm a few more details. Now remind me, before you discovered the body you were…?”

“Participating in a séance.” She tried not to fidget. “In the library in the lower galleria.”

“Uh-huh. And you didn’t drop by your suite for anything since this morning?”

“No. I was in the gift shop for most of the day.”

“Who else has a key to your suite?”

She shook her head. “There are masters.” Her throat ran dry. “Housekeeping, management. Even then, it wouldn’t be hard to borrow or lift someone’s copy.” She kicked herself, admitting it aloud. She’d been so distracted. She should have changed her locks from day one.

“And the cameras were disabled because…?”

“I didn’t—I mean, they weren’t disabled everywhere. It was”—she struggled to find the right words, the innocent words—“some kind of malfunction with the system.”

“Right. And your security guard, Oren, he’d have no reason to tamper with the hotel footage?”

“No.”

“What about anyone else with access to the office?”

“No,” she repeated.

“Any recent arguments? Maybe an employee you rubbed the wrong way?”

Based on the amount of cold shoulders she’d received, Mave had rubbed nearly all staff the wrong way, but she left that out. “No. No one.”

“And you’re absolutely sure the door to your suite was locked?”

“Yes.”

“After what happened here a few months ago…” Morganson stared at her with a stern frown. “Seems like someone’s going to an awful lot of trouble to send you a message. Now, assuming facts line up about a mystery intruder leaving you Baker’s body, it might be the thief’s pissed off with your recent consultations. Like I said, word has gotten out about your help on the burglary investigation. Or it might be another person trying to mess with you—someone with another motive all together.”

Like uncovering the whereabouts of Holden Frost.

“But it has to be, right?” she said. “The thief? With the stuff left under my bed?”

“No doubt there’s a connection,” Morganson agreed. She stared out at the vista.

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