Page 74 of Midnight Secrets

“Ms. Holmes, can I send this footage to myself?” Riggs pointed at the phone.

“Of course.”

“Great. Once I do that, Quartermaine, I want you to take her home. You are officially off the Hammond murder and?—”

“What?” My spine straightened and my eyebrows slammed down. “Why? You?—”

Riggs held up a hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on. You didn’t let me finish.”

Fuming, I clamped my teeth together and motioned for him to continue.

“Ms. Holmes is obviously a target. If what happened tonight is a case of mistaken identity, she needs full-time protection. You are the obvious choice since the two of you have a relationship. I’m assuming, anyway.” He raised an eyebrow.

I nodded an affirmative.

“You can stay with her, keep an eye out, and I’ll take over the murder, and now arson, investigation. Because you can’ttouch that scene”—he jabbed a finger at the smoldering building—“with a ten-foot pole. Any judge worth their salt would be all over us for conflict of interest.”

I looked away, chewing on the inside of my cheek as I considered his words.

Claire moaned. “But why is someone targeting me? I don’t know anything!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Riggs said. “Someone thinks you do. Was everything about the Hammonds’ real estate transactions in your office?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?” I asked. “You don’t have any notes at home or pictures?”

“No—wait.” A small frown wrinkled her forehead, then her eyes rounded. “The staging photos.”

“Staging photos?” It was Riggs’s turn to frown.

A light bulb went off in my head, but before I could speak, Claire continued.

She nodded. “The house needed staging. Normally, Lynne meets me, and we go through the house together. She makes notes and comes up with a plan. Sometimes she takes pictures, but most of the time it’s just notes. For their house, she couldn’t meet me, so I took a bunch of pictures and gave them to her so she could figure out what furniture and décor she needed. The Hammonds were adamant the house go on the market as quickly as possible. It was the fastest solution.”

I shared a look with Riggs. “I looked through them earlier this week. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but I can check them again.” Someone thought she had information. Whatever the killer was looking for could be in those images. She took them Friday. Mrs. Hammond died Monday morning.

He nodded. “Send them to me too. The more eyes, the better.”

“I will. I think there’s something else we need to consider, though.” I shifted, my gaze scanning the still smoldering ruins of Claire’s office.

Riggs sent me a curious frown. “What’s that?”

“Who knew she took pictures?” I wagged a finger at her.

Understanding lit the chief’s face. “That’s a good point. Who did you tell about that, Ms. Holmes?”

“Oh, gosh.” She tipped her head back, thinking. “My staff knew. Lynne’s staff. The Hammonds. My friend, Mina, because I tell her everything.” She turned her attention to me again. “Some of my competitors might wonder if I took pictures, but they wouldn’t know for sure. That’s about it. You.” She lifted a hand gesturing to me. “We talked about it the day I found Marie. On the porch? And you’ve seen the photos.”

I nodded, remembering when she first mentioned them, and turned to Riggs. “That narrows things down some.”

“Possibly. It gives us a place to start, at least. And some different theories. But someone still could have seen her there Friday but not known who she was until after the murder, then just assumed she took pictures. Or we could be entirely off base and there’s something else they think she has.”

That was true, but it didn’t feel likely. I wouldn’t discount the idea—that would be idiotic. But I couldn’t chase down a ghost. I could, however, chase down Claire and Lynne’s employees.

“If your theory is correct, though”—Riggs waved a finger—“we can take Warren off the suspect list.”

“Why?” Claire asked. “Wouldn’t it put him higher on the list? He’s one of the few people who knows I took pictures.”

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