Free Copy Cap Murder by Jenn McKinlay

beyond reaction . . .” Viv said.
    â€œOr she knew who killed him, maybe she even saw them kill him, and she wasn’t surprised,” I concluded.
    We both reached into the tub of gelato at the same time. We worked our spoons around each other and then mulled over the situation while we ate.
    â€œOr she was more than a witness,” Viv said. “Maybe she is the killer and that’s why there was no surprise when Dashavoy was revealed.”
    The thought of Ava being so calculating made me shiver, but there was no denying the look in her eyes when Win had tumbled across the steps to the ground. It had been a look of cold satisfaction.

Chapter 8

    Viv and I packed up the gelato and called it a night. She gave me a hug and told me not to worry but I knew I would. I suspected she would, too.
    Viv’s room is on the same floor as our kitchen and living room. She moved into it after Mim passed away. My room and the guest room are on the floor above. I had recently painted my room. Previously, it had been a shade of heart attack pink but now it was a soothing pale green color with a creamy white trim. Don’t tell anyone but I sort of miss the pink.
    Okay, maybe I don’t miss the pink so much as I miss the free spirit who painted her room such an eye-watering color. I suppose maturity gives a person better taste but I really hoped it didn’t mean I was becoming bland.
    After I was scrubbed clean and jammified, I picked upmy phone just to see if there was any word from Harrison. There was not. He was much more polite than me and it occurred to me that he wouldn’t text so late, whereas I had no trouble with it.
    That being decided, I fired off a text asking him if things were all right.
    I picked up the novel I was currently reading while I waited for him to answer. Here’s a little-known fact, it’s very difficult to read a novel when you keep one eye on your phone at all times. I figured evolution would take care of this problem when we evolve into creatures with tiny fingers for texting and eyes that can go in two directions at once so we can see what’s happening around us and read our texts at the same time. It was one of those wee hour ideas that horrified as much as it fascinated.
    Finally, after ten whole minutes, my phone buzzed. I snatched it up relieved to see that it was Harrison.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œGinger, I just got your text. Why are you still up?” he asked.
    Harrison has a nice deep voice and his British accent only makes it all the more charming. I realized that I always enjoyed talking to him on the phone but even more so right now, probably because there was a certain intimacy to having a man speak right into your ear while you’re lying in bed in your pajamas.
    â€œI’ve been waiting to hear what happened,” I said.
    â€œWe got it sorted,” he said.
    I could tell he was giving me the brush-off.
    â€œWhat does that mean exactly?” I asked. “Are you a person of interest?”
    He was quiet for a moment, too long of a moment, and I gasped.
    â€œOh, no, you are, aren’t you?” I asked. “It’s because of the fight, isn’t it?”
    â€œWell, it certainly didn’t help matters and when several people came forward as witnesses to the fight . . .”
    â€œBut I was there and I told them exactly what happened,” I protested.
    â€œI know,” he said. “But there are some issues.”
    â€œWhat issues?” I asked. “I was with you the entire time. I’ll go and see DI Simms tomorrow and tell him that you were with me. I’m your alibi.”
    â€œAh, see, that’s the problem,” Harrison said. “You weren’t with me the entire time.”
    â€œYes, I was,” I argued as if being bullheaded could make it so.
    â€œScarlett.” He said my name quietly, my real name, which is how I knew he was taking this very seriously. “You