“Yeah, he’s probably got a wealthy family. Don’t forget. BC is full of wealthy families, and we have a lot of international students. Was he from Canada?”
She grabbed her notebook, checked, and shook her head. “No, he wasn’t. I think he was from Germany.”
“I don’t know about Germany, but we have a lot of—”
“No, wait. He was from South Africa,” she corrected immediately.
“That could explain it too. Check in with him in a few days. See how his attitude is then.”
She nodded. “One of the females was really quiet, like hiding, trying to blend into the furniture to avoid getting involved.”
“You definitely need to follow up with her then.” Colby gave her a knowing smile.
Rodney glanced at her, his fingers still working on his keyboard. “You’re usually pretty good at reading people.”
“I would think so,” she said. “Something was off about that young woman for sure.”
“Off in what way?” he asked.
“I don’t think it was a fear of being interviewed. It might have been fear of the others in the group.”
At that, he slowly turned to face her.
“I don’t know what it was,” she said. “I’ll follow up.”
“Maybe you better not wait a few days for that one then.”
“I know. I’m wondering if they saw something or were involved somehow, and they’re worried about her speaking up.”
“I hope not,” he said quietly. “Because, if that’s the case, and they’ve already killed once, they could quickly decide she’s a liability and needs to be terminated too.”
*
After his middaystopover at home, Simon walked through the alleyway, heading toward the next project he was looking at doing. He’d planned to stay in for the afternoon but had felt cooped up so was back out looking at properties. He had tried to buy the property a month ago, and the Realtor had gotten snippy and had refused to place a second offer, so he had walked. As it was, it was still for sale. He wandered through it yet again. These old buildings were never locked up. They should be because the homeless would move in, but, in this case, it appeared to still be empty and still livable, which just increased the chances that the homeless would find it sooner or later.
Although… maybe not. He got an odd feeling from it, like a really odd feeling.
He frowned as he walked through, having remembered that same odd sensation from before. As he took several more steps inside, he stopped and sniffed the air, then immediately retreated. However, realizing that nobody would listen to him if he didn’t see the proof of what it was, what he thought he was sensing, he would have to go in and take another look.
Sighing, he strode quickly and confidently through the main floor. Seeing nothing, he moved up to the second floor, and, with the same result, on up to the third, only to find nothing again. Stunned, and not knowing what the hell was going on with his senses, he turned and looked around. “Thank God I didn’t call the cops,” he muttered to himself. “But what the hell is going on?”
Normally the smell of something dead was easily recognizable and definable. But now, he had no doubt that the smell remained. He turned slowly, did a more thorough search of the empty building, then headed back down to the main entranceway, eager for fresh air. As he walked out the front door, the Realtor appeared with another set of clients. She glared at him. He just shrugged and walked away.
“I can always put in another offer,” she said.
“I wouldn’t add any money to it,” he said calmly, as he carried on. He heard them talking behind him.
He turned as he went around the corner and cast a glance back, watching them heading into the building. Good. Maybe they would smell something. Of course, if they did find something dead in there, he’d be placed at the scene of the crime, and that would cause him no end of hell. He wasn’t sure what was going on there, but something was definitely weird. His sense of smell remained heightened, as he carried forward.
Unnerved and put off, he finished his day and walked toward the little coffee shop. Even though he had a date with the good detective tonight, it could be later in the evening before he caught up with her, so he upped his interrupted lunch with a sandwich now to tide him over. Then he went in, hit immediately by the incredible smell of coffee. With his olfactory senses on high alert, he ordered coffee and a sandwich, then sat in the outside section of the restaurant and enjoyed his dinner thoroughly. Something was refreshing about the scent of the day and about the air around him. He didn’t know what it was, but something was just off today.
When his phone rang, he smiled to see it was the beautiful Kate Morgan. “Good afternoon, Detective Morgan,” he said, his voice silky.
“Oh no, you don’t,” her voice was testy. “No fair using that sexy voice on me right now.”
“You’re working still, I presume.” His smile widened.
“Yes, I’m working. We had plans for tonight, but I’ve got to push them off.”