"We already knew that.” Bobby said.
I paled, and then realized that he meant we knew the rogue was a city shifter—not about my stealing memories. The others didn't know about the mind voyeurism, well, aside from Nathanial, who looked at me with far too much understanding in his eyes, but Gil and Bobby were in the dark. I intended to keep them that way.
"You didn't think a real shifter would do this?” Bobby asked, watching me.
"If the rogue had been from Firth, I would have been cleared of any connection in tagging the bastard.” A feeble hope, but it had been hiding in the back of my mind nonetheless.
"True,” Gil said, turning to study a set of framed photos on the wall. “But now you have confirmed yourself as a prime suspect for responsibility. The shifter is a tagged human, just as we always assumed."
I gave her a dirty look she didn't see.
"Can you track the rogue?"
I shook my head then realized she couldn't see that either. “No, it's faint here, and I couldn't pick it up in the rest of the condo.” Maybe if we returned to Lorna's ... but no, the scent there wouldn't help us track him. I hadn't picked it up on the street, only in the hall near her door.
She nodded absently, and I walked over to where Nathanial poked through things on the dresser. He opened a small, wooden box and sifted through the contents.
"We can safely assume theft was not a motive in the crime,” he mused quietly.
I frowned at him. “I think that's a given, but what makes you sure now?"
"The electronics in the front room, and the fact she owned some very impressive jewelry.” He held something out to me.
I reached over, and he dropped it in my palm. Immediately my hand went numb. Yelping, I recoiled, dropping the object.
"Jerk!” I jumped away from the glinting necklace. “That was silver."
"And it had an interesting effect on you,” he said, reaching for my hand.
I backpedaled out of reach and cradled my hand against my chest. Pins and needles attacked my palm, now that feeling was returning.
Bobby stepped closer, his expression conflicted as his eyes darted from Nathanial to me. A growl rose in his chest, but he turned his back on Nathanial and tugged my hand into his. Gently, he coaxed me into uncurling my fingers and hissed under his breath—the necklace had left a snaking white welt with pink edges across my palm. As I watched, the pink faded and color filled-in the necklace's outline.
Bobby met my eyes. “It wouldn't burn you if you weren't still a shifter, right?"
I didn't answer. Not only did I not know, but I didn't want to put any weight in Bobby's hope. I stared at my palm until Gil poked her head out of the closet.
"Kita, come in here and tell me what you think of this. Nathanial, too. He knows more about human fashion than the rest of us."
Everyone walked into the closet. The right side stood bare, but the left boasted a rack of clothes organized so tidily it was mind-boggling. Shoes lined the bottom with like colors together, and the clothes were similarly sorted by color and piece.
"See anything she would have worn to a club?” Gil asked, running her hand through the outfits.
"Everything looks too conservative for the club scene,” Nathanial said.
I nodded. I didn't know all that much about parties, but most of the girls I'd seen the other night had been scantily clad, which meant there was too much fabric in all these outfits.
Gil sighed and pushed the dress she was holding back into the closet. She looked around a moment then flipped through the clothes again. “Think these clothes are your size?"
"You are not suggesting I steal a dead woman's clothes."
She shrugged. “I can't help but notice you're wearing the same outfit you were wearing last night."
"So is Bobby."
"Actually, Bobby was wearing a dark-blue sweater yesterday,” Gil said, and I noticed that Bobby's sweater was a deep green tonight.
"My clothes are clean.” I pulled my coat shut. It was silly, clothing wasn't something I worried about. The last five years I'd spent minimal amounts of time each day as a human, and clothing was just something I needed to blend in. If an outfit got ruined I acquired another, but usually my clothes lasted a while.
Gil thrust a pale-blue turtleneck at me. “I don't see what you are making such a big deal about, it's not like she will miss them. Besides, you are obviously quite a thief anyway."
My jaw dropped, and I threw the shirt back at her.
"I'm not a thief. I didn't realize I had that bear in my hand when I walked out of the gift shop. It was an accident."
Gil rolled her eyes, and Nathanial put a hand on my shoulder. I rounded on him.
"I'm also not any kind of burglar, despite knowing how to pick locks."
"I was only making a play on words when I mentioned cat-burgling,” he said calmly, voice smooth. The effect was like submerging my anger in cold water.
I frowned at him then turned back around.
Gil still watched me suspiciously, her scroll in hand. “I suppose you accidentally learned to pick locks too?"
My hand clenched into a fist, but I forced it to relax. She was sent here to study me. This was her job, and considering to whom she was reporting, I had best be sure to clear up any misunderstandings. I took a deep breath and released it before answering. “Interesting people take home stray cats. One man worked at a pop-a-lock type service. He practiced in the basement on different locks to keep his skills sharp. I paid attention, and when the house was empty, practiced."
"So then you stole the lock picks?” She kept her nose buried in her scroll, which should have lessened the sting of the continued accusation.
It still pissed me off.
"He was training his son. They had a fight. The boy threw the kit away. Trash is unwanted and fair game.” Okay, maybe I sounded a little defensive. I didn't care. “Are we ready to go?"
Gil looked up, her gaze flickering over my face, never making eye contact. Her lips twisted, but she nodded and, after adding another line or two, vanished her scroll. “We've learned all we can here."
She swept by, the hem of her coat brushing mine, and she didn't even cringe. Well, that was a first. I hoped it was a good sign. I was long overdue for good news.
* * * *
Gil lead the way out of the condo, setting a quick pace. As soon as the door closed behind me, another clicked open.
The neighbor we had spoken to earlier peeked into the hallway, and then shut the door again. Metal dragged across metal as he released the security locks. He stepped into the hall, his hand clutching his doorknob like a lifeline back into the safety of his condo.
"You are investigators, right?"
Whatever Gil had done to him earlier must have been wearing off. She stepped up, likely to give him another dose, but Nathanial held up a hand.
"Yes, but we are not affiliated with the police. We were given the assignment by a private party."
The man chewed on this information, eyes roaming over us, and then he nodded. “I overheard the family mention hiring private investigators."
"Had you been acquainted with Ms. Lamar long?” Nathanial asked.
That sounded like a reasonably legitimate question to me, and I silently applauded him. Of course, all I knew about investigating and questioning witnesses could fit in a thimble with room to spare.
"I hadn't known her long. She'd only been living next door a couple of months before she...” He seemed at loss as to how to end the sentence.
Was savagely murdered, I supplied for him mentally
Nathanial gave him a compassionate smile and quietly said, “Passed away."
The man nodded. “Yes, before she passed away."
"Do you know if she had any enemies?” Bobby asked, and my silent clapping continued.
"Like I told the police, she acted like a nice-enough person. She said hello in the halls, held the elevator if she saw me coming, went to the community meetings, and was a quiet neighbor. No one around here had any problems with her that I ever heard.” He paused as if debating the next sentence. Apparently he decided to share, because he continued, “She was in the process of a divorce. She left her husband for a woman. That had to cause some bad feelings."
"This woman, was Phyllis still seeing her at the time of her death?” Gil asked.
"Jessica. And they were living together. I helped her move some things out a couple weeks ago. She couldn't bear reentering the condo. She was the one who found Phyllis.” He paused and looked away. His hand moved to his mouth and he chewed at a nail. All his nails were gnawed to the quick. “Do you think the person who did this ... will he come back? I've been thinking about moving ... but if the ... killer was her ex, he wouldn't have any reason to come after me, right?"
"Do you think it was her ex?” I asked, and hoped I sounded half as smart as the others had.
"Well, I mean, she left him for a woman, and I'd heard they weren't on good terms. Messy divorce.” His hand fell to his side. “How would he have gotten the dog into the building though?"
Bobby raised his eyebrows. “Dog?"
"Well yeah. Jessica was beating on my door in hysterics, and I couldn't make heads or tails of what was going on, so I went to check it out. I've never seen ... it was...” He was at a loss again, and we gave him a moment to collect himself. “It was brutal. A human couldn't have done that kind of damage. Had to be a trained attack dog. She looked like a bear had torn into her.” He turned pale. “I ran back here and called the police."
"Did Ms. Lamar or her girlfriend ever go to club parties?” Gil asked after the man stopped looking faint.
"Parties?"
"The kind some people call ‘raves',” she said.
"Oh, no, not that I know of. Aside from their relationship, Phyllis and Jessica were both very conservative people. Professionals. Their idea of cutting loose was showing up with funny hats and having a second glass of wine during the Halloween party at our community center.” He almost smiled, then a sick look crossed over him again. “Is the guy who did this ... is he the same one that I've been reading about in the papers?"