Page 16 of The Accidental Detectives

“Then get to explaining. What the hell is going on here, Brenda? Because the cops couldn’t just demand a search warrant without cause. They must’ve found some shit on you. Where were you when he was killed?”

Brenda clung to Peppermint Patty as she rocked back and forth, stroking her sparse fur. Her words were shaky when she said, “I was at home. Like I was almost every night, hoping I’d hear from him. Waiting around like some pathetic, lonely old woman by a computer. Do you suppose the police and the clan will believethat?”

Darnell padded across the room, his finger in the air, his round face full of concern. “I think I know how they got the search warrant, Boss.”

“How?” we all yelped.

“I heard ‘em say someone had one of those doorbell videos, showin’ her goin’ into his apartment around the time he was killed…”

I was so close to my head exploding, I almost couldn’t speak. But somehow, I managed. “What the fuck, Brenda!” I yelled. “I swear, lady, if you’re playin’ some kind of game with us to hide from the clan council, I’m going to eat your face off. And don’t think because you’re considered an ancient who’s probably pretty strong, I can’t do it. I’m a violent bitch when necessary.”

Anyone who’d reached her age as a vampire we respectfully called an ancient. They’d accumulated a shitload of strength and could probably whoop my ass.

But when I’m this pissed off, I don’t care. Everyone’s always bitchin’ about how I need anger management, but I say everyone needs to stop actin’ a fool and there’d be no reason for me to get so angry.

Brenda literally cowered in her chair as I glared at her. “I’m telling you all, I was at my house when he was murdered! All night! I didn’t go anywhere, and I didn’t see anyone!”

Marty grabbed my arm to keep me from latching onto the collar of Brenda’s green silk shirt and launching her across the room. “Nina! Cut it out. I’m not going to spend a whole investigation keeping you from killing our client. Get a hold of yourself!”

Wanda began to pace again, back and forth in front of Brenda’s chair, her heels clicking in agitation the whole way “Do you have anyone who can verify where you were? Did you talk to anyone on the phone? Beyond that, how could whomever did this plant an electrical cord in yourhouse? Who wants to frame you for murder, Brenda?”

Her pale face went paler. “I don’t know who’d want to frame me for murder!” she declared with a sob. “I know a lot of people, but surely no one who’d want to see me in prison. I don’t thinkI have any enemies. I don’t allow myself to get too involved with human people because of what I am. Never forget how lucky you all are to have each other, because it’s a lonely row to hoe if you don’t.”

As fair as that statement was, as much as I understood the meaning behind it, it didn’t make me any less sure she didn’t kill Owen. And she had no business lecturing us at the mo.

I ripped off a piece of paper from the legal pads Marty had stocked our desks with and dropped it on her lap. “Start writing. List all the people you know, even just casually—and you’d better hope one of them is trying to frame you for murder, or I’m going to hand you over to the clan myself.”

I took Peppermint Patty from her so Brenda could start making a list, snuggling her under my chin as she shook. “I’m sorry I scared you, Nugget, but your mommy might be a murderer. If she is, do you wanna live with Auntie Nina?”

“Nina!” both Marty and Wanda yelped in protest.

Brenda slammed her fist down on the arm of the chair, cracking it in two. See what I mean? She’s strong. Those arms are made ofteak. Not an easy wood to break. “I amnota murderer!”

I narrowed my gaze at her. “And I’m not sure I believe that shit, Brenda. So write.”

Marty flicked her fingers at me, her blue eyes angry. “Knock it off and let her make the list. In the meantime, we need to talk to Owen’s wife and see if we can get anything out of her. Maybe someone was unhappy with Owen and decided to take care of him, and this has nothing at all to do with Brenda.”

“Someone who planted the electrical cord in Brenda’s house? Left a fingernail just like the ones she wears in Owen’s apartment? How flippin’ likely is that, Marty?”

Marty threw her hands up in the air. “Howflippin’likely was it the Wright brothers would build a plane that actually flew?Test tube babies? A country album from Beyonce? Unlikely things happen all the time, Elvira.”

See what I mean about my optimistic slash saleswoman bestie? She can turn anything into a positive. I’m not inclined to do the same. “Whatever,” I said, pointing to Brenda. “Just get writing.”

While she did that, sniveling the entire way, I went to do some more research on Brenda. I was headed for a deep dive into her two-hundred-sixty-plus years of life.

I wanted to know where she came from and what she’d been doing all these years. From the pictures Darnell had sent of her house in the burbs, graced with trimmed hedges surrounding the perimeter of the front yard, she didn’t look like she was hurtin’ for cash. She also lived in a neighborhood filled with newer homes, all boasting sprawling front porches and big wooden double doors.

She paid for that place somehow.

I wanted to know how.

The next morning,after a long night of trawling the Internet for info on Brenda, I headed downstairs to the murder basement where Marty and Wanda had the TV on, a news anchor’s blaring voice filling the murder basement.

“Well, look who’s decided to rise and greet the day. It’s Mommy!” Wanda crowed at my daughter, Charlie, planting a kiss on her chubby cheek. She pointed to the TV. “There’s some news about Brenda. As in, she’s no longer considered just a person of interest, but a dangerous suspect wanted for questioning in the death of Owen.”

Well, balls.

“Speaking of, where is she?” I asked, grumpy from a fitful night of tossing and turning.

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