Page 46 of Conrad

“Right.” His blue-eyed gaze had darkened. “Whoever burned down Edward’s building also killed him.”

“And maybe killed Sarah. I’ll bet she didn’t have this on her computer when it was stolen—it was probably something she added afterward.”

“She might have had an entire slew of information on her computer—but this was on her Ring storage,” Conrad said. “Mine gets deleted after thirty days.”

“So this happened within a few weeks of the robbery.” She looked at him. “One of myPenny for Your Thoughtscallers suggested that Sarah had been silenced. What if someone—a.k.a. Swindle—knew that his partner, Walsh, hired the investigator? Maybe even knew he was talking with Sarah.”

“When’s the last time you talked with Walsh?”

She stilled. She hadn’t even thought about—“Over a month ago. Before the wedding. He left town.” She shook her head. “I never liked him. His alibi checked out, but he had a history of violence, and I thought . . . Well, I guess I was wrong. He’s probably in hiding.”

“After what happened to Sarah, that seems right.”

She pocketed the phone. “Thanks for the date.” She headed for her car.

“Wait.” He wore a frown. “That’s it? I mean—um . . .”

Oh.“Did you . . . did you want more?” She’d taken the picture, sent it to Clarice . . .

“I guess not.” He sighed, put his hands into his pockets.

She gave him a smile. “Listen, you’re doing great. And I appreciate it. I just know you have a life, and I don’t want to interfere.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Interfere?”

She shrugged, her chest already tight. The last thing she wanted him to think was that she was throwing herself at him, hoping he’d actuallylikeher. Besides, she knew athletes. The minute she started to actually like him, he’d blow her off for some swooning fan. And she’d aged past swooning long ago.

He stepped off the curb. “Listen. You’re not interfering. I blocked the entire afternoon to, um, hang out with you. Maybe we could, I don’t know . . . get a bite to eat?”

She stared at him, almost hypnotized by those blue eyes, the earnestness in his voice.

“There’s this great burger joint near my place. Fantastic burgers—all named after hockey guys. You should try the King Con burger.” He smiled and winked, and she got it.

Endorsements. Felicity had probably given him a list of places to go—snap pictures, tag the place, and get some Blue Ox brand love. She might have even negotiated an ad fee.

“Not today, sorry. I think I’m going to go talk to Edward’s old townhouse neighbors and see if they can remember anything from that night.”

She might as well have dangled a piece of steak in front of a hound. Conrad’s ears all but visibly perked up, and she could have predicted his next words?—

“Have you lost your mind?”

Oh goody.They were right back to Friday night at the house of cookies. “No, Conrad. I haven’tlost my mind. I’m a mystery podcaster. I solve mysteries?—”

“Murder mysteries. Emphasis on themurder. Sheesh, Penny.” He shook his head, his hand across his mouth as if he might be trying to hold something back. His next words emerged soft, controlled. “I’m going with you.”

She cocked her head. “Conrad—c’mon?—”

“Where is his townhome?”

She sighed. “St. Anthony Main.”

“Great. Let’s swing by your house, drop off your car, and you can ride with me.”

He walked over to his car without her agreement.

“Bossy much?”

He looked over at her, then offered a slight grin. “You’re not getting away that easily, Penny.”

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