“Is there a light bulb that needs changing or something?” Neely Kate gave her a big smile. “I can do it for you, and then we’ll kill two birds with one stone. You can tell her I’m your maintenance woman if she asks questions.”

“Do you know how to use a wrench?” the woman asked. “Miss Prissy Pants keeps griping about a leaky faucet in her bathroom.”

Neely Kate shook her head, then waved her thumb toward me. “Not me, but my friend here is a wiz at it. She’s got one of those old farmhouses that’s always needing work done. She can fix it for you.”

Oh mercy. I barely knew which end of a wrench was the one you used, let alone how to fix a leaky faucet, but Neely Kate’s plan was pure genius.

The woman looked us over, then gave a quick nod. “Okay, but you better make it quick. And don’t touch nothin’ and definitely don’t steal nothin’.”

“Deal.”

Neely Kate and I followed her to the counter, where she opened the cash register and pulled out a silver house key. She started to hand it to Neely Kate, but pulled it back at the last minute. “You have ten minutes.”

Neely Kate leaned over and snatched the key. “Then we better get goin’.” She bolted for the door, leaving me to follow.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Neely Kate stopped in her tracks and turned around.

The woman held out a wrench. “Yer gonna be needin’ this.”

I laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt. “Silly me. I thought maybe it was already up there.”

I walked back and grabbed the outstretched tool, but the woman held on tight.

“Why do I smell some funny business here?”

I tried to look confused instead of nervous. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

She gave me a long look.

I lowered my voice. “I’m just here to support my friend. That’s all. This apartment, the Mayflower chair. It might be exactly what she needs to move on with her life.”

I was laying it on a bit thick, but the woman let go. Forcing what I hoped was a friendly smile, I hurried out the front door after Neely Kate.

“What was that all about?” she asked, stopping at a door a few feet away from the antique store entrance, then inserting the key into the doorknob.

“She’s suspicious, so we need to hurry.”

Neely Kate grinned. “We don’t need much time for what I have in mind.”

Oh, crappy doodles.

Chapter 19

As Neely Kate and I headed up the stairs, it occurred to me that Kate might have come home while we were visiting Carter. I was about to warn Neely Kate, but she already had the key in the lock.

I cringed as I followed her into the apartment, debating whether to call out Kate’s name as warning, but once I saw the space, I realized it wouldn’t be necessary.

Neely Kate hadn’t been exaggerating about the apartment being in bad shape. It was a loft—if you could call it that. The far wall was the brick exterior of the building, and windows lined the walls facing the street and the alley. The wall attached to the connecting building was a bare lathe wall—minus most of the plaster—and the floor was of unfinished wood.

“What the Jiminy Cricket?” Neely Kate gasped when we walked in and saw the bathroom that was tucked in behind the door. Multiple shower curtains were suspended from a rod attached to the ceiling. The curtains currently hung open, revealing a grody toilet, a cheap oak cabinet and sink topped with an oval mirror that hung from the lathe slates over it, and a clawfoot tub.

“Where’s the kitchen?” I whispered.

“Over here?” But it was more of a question. She was pointing to a six-foot-long run of cabinets equipped with a sink and a two-burner hot plate. A half-sized fridge stood at the end, and a tiny microwave was on top.

The room was mostly devoid of furniture. A mattress lay on the floor, and a big kitchen table with two mismatched chairs on either side sat in the middle of the space. The table was strewn with papers. The mattress was covered with sheets and a blanket and a couple of pillows. A duffel bag and a pile of clothes lay next to it.

“Well …” Neely Kate sighed. “This explains why she looks like a homeless person most days.”

I thought “homeless person” was an exaggeration, but not by much. I set the wrench on the kitchen counter. “Let’s see what those papers are about and get out of here.”

We reached the table at the same time. I couldn’t make heads or tails of the mess. Multiple slips of paper—each the width of a normal sheet of paper, but only about two inches high—were marked with dates, times, and one-line sentences.

M seen in black sedan with mark

Ten minute phone call, subject unknown.

Fire destroyed evidence.

The papers were rumpled, as if they had been folded over and over and stuffed into something.

“What are these?” Neely Kate asked in dismay.

“I don’t know.”

Neely Kate walked over to the window and let out a low whistle. “She’s definitely spying on the DA’s offices. You can see Mason’s desk from here. The DA’s too.”

I looked up at her, cold dread settling at the base of my neck. “That could be a coincidence.”

She squatted and held up a pair of binoculars. “And I’m sure these are for star-gazing in Henryetta Square.”

I looked down at the table again, and this time I saw something under one of the papers. Trying not to disturb anything, I lifted it and pulled out a cell phone. I touched the power button, and the blood rushed from my head the moment the screen came to life.