18
Already overstimulated by the conversations filling the con suite’s beer room, nose full of hops and the fumes of cheap alcohol, Tamora’s words instantly tangled Dale’s thoughts. Was Tamora confessing?
No, supporting a murder wasn’t the same as committing murder. It wasn’t even abetting. It didn’t have to mean inside or advance knowledge of the crime.
If there had been a crime.
Dale opened his mouth to ask Tamora why she thought Chester had been murdered, but she’d already turned her back. Before he could form a coherent question and ship the first word down to his mouth, she had marched out the door and into the con suite’s jam-packed main room.
Tamora might not have murdered Chester, but she probably had a ready-made suspect list.
If Dale could get it out of her.
Oh, get real!
