Page 87 of Little Shattered Dreams

“Did you make the bracelet yourself, or did someone make it for you?”

“It was given to me.”

“Is the person who gave it to you the reason you don’t want to talk about it? Is this person no longer in your life?”

“Something like that. I’m not talking about it, okay?”

He grabbed the door handle and got in, starting the car and then backing away, leaving me standing there, thinking about the bracelet, and about him.

Had a man given it to him or a woman?

Or was it a child … a child who was no longer living?

CHAPTER45

“What did you say?” I asked through the phone. “Silas? I can’t hear you. You’re going to have to turn the music down.”

“Oh, sorry,” he shouted. “Hold tight.”

I heard footsteps. The music got louder at first. Then it went quiet.

“Can you hear me now?” he asked.

“I can. Who’s the band? They sound a lot more modern than some of the big-hair bands you listen to at the lab.”

“They’re called Maneskin. Great band. Saw them in New York City last month.”

Their music was right up my alley. “I’ll check them out.”

“You should. You’ll dig their stuff.”

“When I answered the phone, it sounded like you were trying to tell me something about the case.”

“Yeah, so the hair fibers I pulled off the clothing Quinn wore on the night she died were cat hairs,” Silas said.

“Let me guess, a black cat?”

“How’d you know?”

“There is a black cat that roams the property. She belongs to Abby.”

“What do you know about her?”

“She was in jail for a bar fight, and it wasn’t her first. She’s also been involved in a romantic relationship with one of the other employees here.”

“Is there anything about her that would suggest she’s behind the murders?”

“I don’t know of any reason she’d have to kill Quinn,” I said. “But there was a weird love triangle going on between Abby, Clara, and Karl.”

“Wait, wait. Karl the old dude?”

“Yeah, it seems he's a hot commodity around this place. I can’t figure out why. The guy’s strange. I don’t find him attractive in the least.”

“There’s, what, three guys working out there with a bunch of single women? People aren’t as picky when there isn’t much choice. I suppose there’s someone for everyone, just like the saying goes, right?”

“I guess. What can you tell me about Clara? Have you been able to examine her body in more detail yet?”

“Still early days. The position of the body was all wrong for a person who shot herself. The trajectory of the blood spatter would suggest the gun was fired at a farther range than Clara would have been able to achieve herself. As far as it being a suicide, I’m not feeling it—or seeing proof of it, for that matter.”

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