looked you up, come out here to try and find you?”
“In theory,” I said. “Though if he’d really wanted to get in touch with me, I don’t know why he wouldn’t have tried to call me.”
“You gave him your number?”
“I didn’t, actually.”
“So it’s possible he tried to find your number and couldn’t, then drove out here.”
“Sure, I guess it is. It just doesn’t seem likely. We had a nice conversation but it wasn’t flirtatious, and he’s a married man, and . . .”
The detective smiled and shrugged. “You might have just missed it. We see it all the time. Some guy meets some woman, and the woman thinks nothing of it, and the next thing she knows, he’s stalking her. And vice versa, as well, but that’s not as common.”
“You think I was being stalked?”
“I have no idea. We were just curious as to why he drove out here on the day he was killed. It’s a suspicious death, so we look at anything that happened recently that seems out of the ordinary. But if he drove out here in the hopes of running into you, then I can’t imagine it had anything to do with his death.”
“No. I can’t imagine.”
“Do you mind my asking if you’re in a relationship, Miss Kintner?”
“No, I don’t mind. And no, I’m not seeing anyone. And you can call me Lily.”
“Just checking, Lily. No jealous ex-boyfriends in your life?”
“Not that I know of.”
The detective looked at his spiral-bound notebook and was quiet for a moment. I had relaxed. As far as I could figure, I had covered myself as best as I could. I couldn’t deny having met Ted on the plane. There were witnesses. But there was no reason for me to admit anything else. If the police figured out that I had stayed for two nights in Kennewick immediately after the murder, I would just have to claim it was coincidence. It might look strange, but what could happen to me? It’s not as though I had actually been involved in the Friday night murder.
“Sorry, Lily, but I need to ask this. Can you tell me where you were on Friday evening?”
“I was here. I was alone. I cooked dinner for myself, then watched a movie.”
“Anyone stop by? Anyone call?”
“Sorry, no. I don’t think so.”
“That’s okay.” He finished his coffee and stood. “Is it possible to look at a picture of Ted Severson online so you can give a proper identification?” he asked.
“Of course,” I said, and got my laptop. Together, we found a picture that accompanied a news article on Ted’s slaying, and I said, that, yes, I was pretty sure that it was the same man I’d talked with on the plane.
“It’s so strange,” I said. “I read the article and realized that I kind of knew this man, or at least I definitely knew his wife, and it turns out I’d met him recently, spoken with him.”
At the door, Detective Kimball reached into his jacket pocket, then said, “Oh, one more thing. I nearly forgot.” He pulled out a single key, still shiny. “Do you mind if I check and see if this key opens your door.”
I laughed. “So dramatic. You think this man had a key to my house?”
“No, I don’t, but we found it hidden among his things, and I need to check every possibility. I’m just eliminating your house is all.”
“No, please check. I understand.” It must have been the key that Ted had stolen from Brad’s house, probably a master for all the rental cottages. If Brad became a suspect, it would only be a matter of time until they discovered that the key belonged to him.
I watched the detective insert the key into my front door lock. It slid in easily and for one confused and terrifying moment I thought the key might turn my lock, that maybe Ted really did have a key to my house for some reason. But it didn’t. The detective jiggled it a couple of times, then pulled it out. “Nope,” he said. “I had to check, though. You’ve been very helpful. If you think of anything else . . .” He held out a card and I took it. Glancing down, I saw that his first name was Henry. I stood in the door and watched him drive away. It was almost dark, the sky crisscrossed with orange clouds. Behind me the phone rang twice and then stopped. I walked toward it, but I knew what the handset