Page 20 of Accidental Murder
“You work the nightshift.”
Eve tilted her head. “Have you at least told Ashley’s fiancé?”
“He’s in France, and I can’t find a contact number.”
“What about your uncle David?”
Kayla chewed on her lower lip, deliberating. “I lied and told him I was Ashley. He’s a wreck. I think I mentioned to you that he’s an alcoholic. He functions better than most sober people. However, I’m afraid with the emotional shock of the truth, he might lose it and leak the information to the police.” Kayla went to the window and viewed the activity on the street below.
“You’re acting paranoid. Do you think somebody’s tailing you?”
“No. I—” Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “I’m not sure. What if the police think I killed Ashley? What if they’re keeping tabs on me to see if I trip up?”
“Paranoia’s a virus. Feed it and it grows.”
“I need a plan.”
Eve rubbed her hands together. “Okay, my two cents? First, if you’re going to be Ashley, you have to act like her. You have to call all of Kayla’s clients and tell them she’s dead.”
The guilt ate at Kayla. Lie? To everyone? She could hear her father’s admonition to her as a teen:Once you lie, there’s no way around it.Of course, at the time he had been encouraging her to confess about sneaking out of the house. Now he would say:Avenge your sister.
“Next, you need to have a memorial service. People, including the police, will expect you to.”
Kayla agreed.
“Do everything Ashley would do,” Eve went on. “Call the agent. Call the boyfriend.”
“I told you, he’s in Paris.” Kayla thought of Peter’s father, who was a congressman in the Bay Area. If he’d heard about the death, he might have already contacted Peter, but if he had, why hadn’t Peter called Ashley?
“You suspect the murderer was after you.” Eve shot a finger at her. “If so, that means all known sources you would use are off limits.” She paced while tapping her lower lip with her index fingers. “You can’t make any calls from your home phone.”
“No problem. I’m not allowed inside my townhouse. It’s a crime scene. I’m staying at Ashley’s.”
“Don’t use—” Eve stopped mid-pace. “I’m sorry. Kayla, I’m a lousy friend. Your sister is dead, and I’m giving you commands like a drill sergeant.” She clutched Kayla’s hand and squeezed. “No one will think twice if you take time to mourn.”
“I can’t slow down. I’ve got to find the truth.” Tears pooled in her eyes.
Eve raced to the bathroom and returned with a handful of tissues. “You’re a natural investigator. Think about it. On a daily basis you tear apart computers looking for clues about why they go bust.”
“That’s it.” Kayla spanked her hands together. “The computers. My computers. Why did the killer destroy one of them?”
“If Dennis Wald isn’t the killer, who else do you suspect?”
“My ex-CIA client. He worked undercover. He maintains secret files on his computer. I have access. There’s also Jacob Feinstein. He and his partners at Guys Like Us are developing something called Brain Juice.”
“Sounds like a caffeinated drink.”
“Doubtful.”
“How about your neighbors?”
“The husband and wife to the right are sweet homebodies. The guy to the left volunteers for everything.”
“What about the woman across the street, the nosy one you’ve told me about?”
“Mrs. Tennyson? She’s a straight arrow.”
Eve aimed a finger. “Don’t rule anyone out.”
