Page 60 of Criminology of a Character

“Oh, there are,” Violet teased, still rolling the gum wrapper until it was a tight ball.“Maybe not for a few years, but I’m telling younow,I better be a bridesmaid.”

“Okay, fine. If it happens, I’ll ask you first…do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“The gum wrapper?” Bel pointed to it. It was a popular brand, but the way she twisted it in her fingers had her seeing Anne. “Do you always roll it into a ball?”

“Um…” Violet glanced down. “I don’t think so. I was only rolling it because we’re talking.”

“So, that isn’t a habit?”

“No, definitely not,” Violet said. “UsuallyI throw it out, but sometimes, I fold it into a square.Other times,I leave it on my desk to wrap my chewed gum in.”

“And that flavor,” Bel said. “Do you always chew the same flavor and brand?”

“No. I have my favorites, but I usuallyjustgrab whatever I’m in the mood for when standing in the checkout line. Bel, are you okay? Why are you so interested in my gum?”

“So, you don’t have a habit with the wrapper, and you don’t stick to one brand or flavor,” Bel repeated.

“No,” Violet answered. “Why? Do you?”

“No, but I met someone who does. Someone whose routine is so specific that it’s impossible to ignore,”shesaid. “I’ve never seen anyone else do it, butthenthe other day, I came across the identical habit. Logic tells me they can’t be related, but what are the chances of an exact match appearing in three different scenarios in three different parts of the world?”

“I don’t knowexactlywhat you’re talking about, but coincidences occur all the time,” Violet said. “Every daypeoplerun into strangers who unexpectedly have the same friends, attended their alma mater, grew up in the same town, orhave the same car. Coincidences are common in normallife,but in a homicide investigation? They don’t happen, especially when they connect multiple locations. I don’t have the details you do, but I see it in your eyes. You know these aren’t accidents. Otherwise, you wouldn’tbe so weirded outby my gum.” She met Bel’s gaze as if to say she knew a crime scene was where she’d encountered this specific habit. “Do you have a way to confirm the connections?”

“No…” Bel paused. After identifying Hazel Wyatt, they’d called the local police station to notify the parents of their daughter’s fate. After they delivered the death notice, the Wyatts instructed them to relay a message to the Bajka Police Department. They loved their daughter, and to honor her memory, they offered their help.

“Actually,maybe.” Bel stood up and threw out her empty coffee mug and sandwich wrapper. “If I needed you to babysit Cerberus tonight, could you?”

“Sure. I’ll keep my cats in another room, but who knows? They might get along.”

“Thanks.” Bel captured her friend in a hug. “I need to make a phone call.”

Bel knockedon the picturesque front door, and within seconds, a gentleman answered.

“Detective Emerson?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.” She flashed her badge to confirm her identity.

“You madegreattime,” he said. “Come in.”

“Thank you.” Bel stepped inside the modest but charming house and followed her host to the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Wyatt lived a few hours’ drive from Bajka, and after a call confirmedtheir willingness to meet, Bel had filled her car’s tank with gas and aimed for the highway. She could’ve mentioned her questions over the phone, but their daughter’s death was a difficult topic. She wanted to look them in the eyes when she broached the subject.

“Babe, the detective is here,” Mr. Wyatt said as they entered the kitchen, and the middle-aged woman offered Bel a sad smile.

“I made coffee. Would you like some?” she asked.

“I would love some.” Bel took a seat as the woman poured the brew into three mugs. She set them down on the table and then pushed cream and sugar into the center before placing a plate of biscottidownfor everyone to share.

“They’re just store-bought,” she said. “I’m not a baker, but I need something sweet with my coffee. Help yourself.”

“Thank you.” Bel fixed her coffee before she grabbed the dessert. “I have some questions, but before we begin, is there anything you’d like to ask first? I may not be able to give you all the details, but if there’s something you want to know, I’ll try to answer it for you.”

Mrs. Wyatt’s gaze slipped to Bel’s scars, and realizing she was a woman who understood trauma, she asked, “You were the detective on the case? The one who found our Hazel, right?”

“I was.”

“I heard you got the guy?” she asked.

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