Page 35 of Pied Sniper

Abigail shrugged. “I don’t think she goes anywhere.”

“So she lies to her audience?” asked Lily with a frown.

“No, she never said she wasactuallygoing anywhere. At the end, she blows a kiss to the camera and wishes her viewers an amazing night out.”

“But it cuts to an ‘end of the night’ segment where Tiffany raves about how her makeup stayed absolutely perfect all night,” Lily persisted. “She gave the impression she was at a nightclub or a party.”

“She can’t police what viewers think she’s doing or not doing,” replied Abigail. The elevator slid to a halt and the doors opened. She stepped out first and Lily followed, pulling a face at Abigail’s white-clad back. Unlike last night, the door to Tiffany’s apartment was closed and sealed with bright yellow crime scene tape. The top right corner had slipped off and the tape flopped on the floor. Large, black smudges dusted the door and handle. I wondered what, if anything beyond the bullet casing, the crime scene technicians found.

Abigail inserted a key and turned the handle with her thumb and forefinger, dexterously avoiding the smudges. “Who else keeps a key to the apartment?” I asked.

“Tiffany. She gave me her spare the last time I was here. The building manager has one for emergencies. That’s all I know about.”

“What about her boyfriend?”

A small frown appeared on her otherwise smooth face. “Boyfriend?”

“Jonathan Brett.”

“Ahh.” She nodded. “No, I don’t believe he has one.”

“Isn’t that unusual?” I asked. “They’ve been together quite a long time.”

“Do you give the key to your home to every boyfriend?”

“No,” I conceded.

“A good thing too,” snorted Lily. “Some of them were crazy!”

“Only the ones I dated briefly.”

“And her ex-fiancé.”

Abigail followed the conversation with her eyes, and lifted an eyebrow. I couldn’t tell if she were fascinated or bored. Perhaps both.

“You met my husband last night,” I said, deflecting the conversation away from past disasters to my most wonderful success. If I didn’t have those romantic failures, how could I define and recognize someone who was ideal and perfect for me?

“I did,” said Abigail and we stepped inside, pushing the door closed behind us. “I assumed you didn’t get much chance to look around, what with all the commotion last night. I hope you might see or find something useful today.”

“Do you think we will?” I countered.

There was that flicker of confusion again. “I have no idea. Mrs. Gr— Lexi, there’s no subterfuge from me. I’m just as much in the dark as everyone else. I just figured you needed to see Tiffany’s apartment again without breaking in or being handcuffed.”

“She has a good point,” said Lily. “We didn’t search the place at all.”

“I expect the police have fingerprinted every surface, combed it for fibers, taken photos of any footprints and swabbed everything they thought needed swabbing,” I told her as we moved further into the apartment. If it weren’t so light and bright now, I might have gotten déjà vu. Tiffany’s camera tripod lay abandoned on the kitchen counter, minus the camera. Last night, it was lying on the floor. “They’ve probably confiscated all of Tiffany’s electronic devices too.”

“Whatever for?” asked Abigail.

“Maybe she was being spied on.” I shrugged. I wasn’t sure either. It wasn’t like the kidnappers would send a ransom demand to Tiffany’s email address, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been in contact with her before.

“I have her laptop,” said Abigail, reaching into her purse and producing a slim white laptop. “She left it at the hotel yesterday afternoon. I promised to return it today but obviously…” She trailed off, gesturing to the mess. I saw the moment her eyes locked onto the blood. No one cleaned it off and it dried on the floor right where it pooled. In the daylight, it didn’t seem as bad as it did the night before. The sight of bloody handprints didn’t look particularly attractive, but I was fairly certain they were Lily’s.

“I know it looks like a lot of blood loss,” I said, “but people have survived much worse.”

“Okay,” said Abigail appearing entirely unconvinced.

“I’m sure Tiffany would appreciate it if you’d arrange for someone to sanitize the apartment before she comes back,” I added, choosing my words carefully. Despite it being a business relationship, Abigail seemed to sincerely care about her client. She didn’t need to hearif she came back.

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