Page 17 of Covert Chaos

They both studied the spot.

"I think it's suspiciously handy," Lucy finally said.

Dang it. "Right? That's what I thought, too."

"You guys are being melodramatic," Hattie said. "For heaven's sake. Let's stay focused!" She walked over to the wall and flipped the light switch.

We all had to shield our eyes for a moment, but when my eyes adjusted, I saw that Charles was not hiding in a corner with a machete, and the missing tarp had simply slid to the side, and was bunched up against the wall.

"That feels nice," Lucy said, taking a breath. "I like electricity."

"Shine a little light, and everything is better," Hattie said. "Charles is clearly not back here. Let's check the men's room. Or maybe he's back in the front of the tavern again. Let's head back out there."

"Hang on." The askew tarp was bugging me. My mom had taught me to always trust my hunches. The rest of the room was carefully tarped up, except that one spot. I eased across the room, trying not to touch anything, scanning the floor carefully.

I crouched at the bare spot and peered at it. As soon as I knelt down, King Tut squeezed out of my sweatshirt and hopped down. I gave him a pat as he stretched, his tail flicking with happiness.

An empty room with plastic sheeting was cat heaven.

"See anything?" Lucy asked from the doorway.

"No." But I didn't move. Something was definitely off.

Hattie walked over and crouched next to me. "What's that well-trained criminal brain of yours thinking?"

I appreciated the respect. Griselda had done the same with me when I'd been working undercover for him. He always encouraged my hunches, and most of the time, I'd been right. I pointed to the cans of paint. "This place is tarped up because they're repainting. When you repaint, you can't leave spots uncovered, and everywhere else is carefully covered."

"Which means?"

"Something happened in here since the last time they painted, which was probably this afternoon, since you can still smell the paint." I studied the floor.

Lucy came over and knelt on my other side. "What? Did Beckwith get killed here?"

"I don't know." I tried to work it out. "The tarp is pretty lightweight," I said. "It could have been blown aside by a gust of wind."

"Indoors?" Lucy asked.

Hattie pointed. "There's a door to the back deck." She jumped up and tried the door. It was unlocked, and when she opened it, I felt a light breeze. Not enough to move a tarp, but a gust could have come in.

"What's out there?" I asked.

"A deck. It's separate from the side deck that Devlin is on. You can't see one from the other," Hattie said. She stepped outside. "No one's out here."

At that moment, the tarp rippled and moved a little as a breeze caught it and pushed it further back, in the same direction it had already slid. "Definitely the wind, then." Which meant the door had been opened.

As I stood up to go outside, I suddenly noticed that the bar stools to my left had been knocked over, as if someone had fallen into them. The window right above the chairs was cracked. A fight? If Beckwith and Charles had gotten into a fight, Charles would definitely have won.

My heart started to race, and I hurried to the back door and out onto the deck, King Tut trotting after me. The table closest to the door was on its side, and a chair was upside down. A white plate was on the deck, and raspberry pie was splattered everywhere across the floor.

"Oh, boy," Hattie said.

"It's the murder site!" Lucy ran up behind me. "This is where it happened. You think Charles killed Beckwith and then took him to your truck?"

"Looks like it." Hattie held up her hands. "No one touch anything. This is where I get exonerated. A fight between brothers went south. My DNA is nowhere out here."

"If someone wanted to set you up, why would they leave the murder scene like this?" I looked around, and then I saw a trash bag and a roll of paper towels on the deck. I pointed. "The killer came back to clean it up."

"That's why we saw Charles come back in," Lucy said.

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