Low Pressure

“My condolences,” he said as he clicked off his lighter. He used it to motion toward the bar. “Looks like your stepbrother’s done okay for himself. He has that air of prosperity about him.”

“He has a strong aversion to you.”

“Oh, that breaks my heart.”

“When you were interrogating him, did you know he was gay?”

He shrugged. “Figured.”

“Did you harass him about it?”

He flicked an ash off the end of his cigarette. “I was only doing my job.”

“No you weren’t. You were tormenting an underage boy.”

His eyes narrowed angrily. “Don’t make me sorry I came here to see you. Are you still looking for answers or not?”

She tamped down her resentment. “Most definitely.”

“Then listen up. I left the case file with Haymaker. Go see him. He’ll enlighten you.”

He tried to turn away, but she reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. “That’s it?”

“That’s all you need. Everything’s in there, including a statement from me, owning up to my machinations, as well as Rupe’s.”

“A signed confession?”

“Yep. And to eliminate any doubt or dispute that it’s legit, I put my thumbprint on it. You won’t have any trouble with Haymaker. I told him you’d be coming.” He tried to pull away, but again she detained him.

“Two things,” she said. “Please.”

“Make it snappy.”

“Dent and I went back to your cabin to warn you of Ray Strickland.” She described the attack on Gall inside his hangar. “Strickland meant to kill him.”

“Looks like he’s going for broke.”

“So it would seem.”

“Warning noted,” Moody said. “What’s the second thing?”

She wet her lips. “Since I last talked to you, I’ve remembered something else about that day.”

His attention sharpened. “Well?”

“I overheard Susan say something about me. Something nasty.” She swallowed with difficulty, and her heart was beating so hard it filled her ears with its pounding. “During your investigation, did you find anything to indicate that possibly I had killed her?”

“No.”

“But you would have dismissed me because of my age, my size. Did I ever cross your mind as a possible suspect? You know now that I saw her lying dead before the storm.”

Moody studied her for a second or two, then pitched her his lighter. Reflexively she caught it against her chest. “What are you doing?”

“You’re a lefty.” He motioned down to the hand clutching his lighter. “After you described the crime scene the other day, I checked, just to make sure. You might have seen your sister dead, but you didn’t kill her. Whoever struck the blow to the back of her head was right-handed.”

The tension inside her chest began to lessen. She was virtually breathless with relief. “You’re positive?”

He dropped his cigarette to the terrace and ground it out. “I still don’t know who killed your sister, but I know who didn’t.”