Megan and I ate lunch at home. We chatted about the case in between bites. Despite our mild victory with Roland’s car wash disaster, he was no help. Jane remained behind bars and everyone still had an alibi. I felt like I was playing a board game, stuck on the first square. We brainstormed about our next course of action. Other than searching for a possible hollowed book, we came up with nothing.
“I don’t know about you—” Megan said after eating the last bite of her sandwich— “but I’ll stick with cooking over sleuthing.” She got up and grabbed the coffee pot. “We really do suck at being cops.”
“We need to un-alibi someone.”
“That’s not even a word,” Megan said with a laugh.
Solving a murder was frustrating. Secretly, I hoped Roland had seen or heard something. Something that would poin
