Death jogged ahead and stopped in the sidewalk, hands up. “Um, I know you’re a bit freaked out and all about what just happened—”
Casey walked around. “I’m not freaked out.”
“Okay. Are you at least impressed that Asuhara saw me? And thought I was, well, something to be respected? Unlike some people I know?”
“Oh, L’Ankou, I respect you. I don’t always like you, but that’s different.”
Death jumped ahead and blocked the sidewalk this time, arms out. “How could you not like me? I’m so fun.”
Casey didn’t respond.
“Fine. Do you at least love me for my mind?”
Casey waited silently until Death got out of the way, and she could walk again.
“Well, you will after this. I’ve been thinking—”
“Scary.”
“—about the night of the murder. Something’s not right.”
Casey gave a short laugh. “A lot of things aren’t right. Andrea’s dead.”
“No, listen, it’s about the security.”
Casey perked up. “Okay. I’m listening.”
“Okay. Obviously the security at the Flamingo isn’t the best, but they should have known if a non-resident entered the building. Especially at that time of night. There wouldn’t be a lot of people going by the front desk or clogging up the video feed. You with me so far? But…someone had messed with the camera in the hallway. The killer is unrecognizable.”
“So?”
“The murderer knew about the camera, but didn’t have the ability, or the opportunity, to actually disable it. There would have been security there all the time, watching the monitors.”
“So it was a security guy who killed her?”
“No.” Death put on a patient voice. “I’m saying security would have noticed someone messing with the camera lens. If they didn’t see the person smearing it, they would have at least seen that the lens was blurry. Unless…”
“L’Ankou, I’m tired. Just tell me.”
“Unless the guard was distracted. It took only a few seconds to mess up the lens, and only a moment for the killer to enter the hallway and get into the locker room door.”
“So you’re saying what? There was a second person?” Casey went suddenly hot, then cold. “There was an accomplice?” Casey’s heart felt like it was lodged in her throat. Because who better to distract a lonely security guard than Andrea’s supposed best friend? It should have been unthinkable—that a woman would sell out her best friend—but what kind of woman were they talking about? A woman who, by all accounts, had few scruples about what she did in her dating life, and was going to do just that the day after Andrea’s death, not twenty feet from where she had lain dying. Unless, of course, Krystal and Dylan had been planning on moving right through Casey’s office into the women’s locker room. Then they would’ve been practically on the spot of Andrea’s death.
Which was way too creepy for Casey to think about. Too creepy to believe.
“But why would Krystal do something that awful? If she hated Andrea, why didn’t she just kill her herself? Or, maybe, you know, talk to her about whatever the problem was? They were supposedly friends, after all.”
“We really don’t know anything about Krystal, do we?” Death said. “Other than the fact that she likes men.”
“Does more than like them.” Casey stepped around a man and his German Shepherd, who was examining the post of a mailbox.
The dog spun suddenly around, sniffing at Death’s legs, and Death did a little two-step to avoid it. “Well, the top reasons for murder are money, sex, and…something else.”
“Revenge.”
“Right. So, anyway, sex is right at the top, and Krystal is all about that. If I looked up the definition of sex, it would claim her as its top example, right along with a photo. Hmm. That would be a way to sell more dictionaries, wouldn’t it? Except everything’s on-line these days, and who’s going to buy an on-line dictionary?”
“What else do we know about Krystal?”
“Not much, except she works at the bank, and we didn’t find out a whole lot there. At least nothing surprising. Andrea was good at the actual banking, and Krystal…isn’t. Maybe Andrea’s folks will know something more substantial about her work.”
“I doubt it. Andrea was, what? Twenty-five? And she lived in the opposite corner of the country from her parents. They probably knew she worked at a bank, but more than that…I can’t really see it.”
“Maybe she was one of those kids who text their parents ten times a day with every little problem.”
“No. She was way too self-sufficient for that. I could tell that right off. She was out on her own,