“Another murder?”
“No. I know he’s involved in those.”
I stopped, my hands on my hips. “OK, I’ve been the ignorant sidekick to your brilliant master detective for long enough. Spill with exactly what it is you’re doing.”
He disappeared into a room that I assumed was the bedroom. I went to the door of it, and watched as he systematically searched through the built-in dresser. At last, he turned to face me, his expression one of profound frustration. “I don’t know what it is I’m looking for. I just have a feeling that he’s involved in something, and I had hoped that I’d find proof of it.”
“Something connected to this murder?”
“Yes.” He hesitated, obviously loath to tell me what it was. I waited silently to see what he’d do, feeling it was important to know now, before our relationship h
