“I just asked Cassidy if she knew if Abbie was employed.”
“She must have been suspicious,” June insisted. On cue, her phone rang, and Cassidy’s name scrolled across the screen.
“Maybe don’t answer that until we’re on our way home,” I suggested.
“I believe that is the correct course of action.”
I stabbed the buzzer for B2 belonging to an M. McManus.
We waited another minute, the hot sun baking us on the sidewalk. “Maybe we should go back to the car. We have another stop to make. We could try Abbie again afterward.”
June gave the front door a hard tug, and we both watched bemused as the door opened.
“Some security system,” I muttered.
We took the stairs to the second floor. The paint on the walls and railing was peeling, and the carpet had bare spots, but overall it was clean. B2 was the second door on the left. I held my ear to the door and listened.
“What are you doing?” June asked at normal volume.
I eased back and shushed her. “I’m trying to see if she’s in there. She might not be answering the buzzer because she doesn’t want to talk.”
“This is taking too long. I would like to get back to my pig.” She reached around me and rapped her knuckles on the door. “Abbie Gilbert. I would like to speak with you.”
A dark head poked out of the door across the hall. “You’re going to have to yell a hell of a lot louder than that.”
June took a breath. “ABBIE GILBERT—”
I cut her off with a hand on her arm. “That’s not what you meant, is it?” I asked the woman.
Her jet-black hair was styled in a pristine bowl cut. She was wearing a purple and yellow housecoat and slippers that looked older than me.
“The poor girl,” the woman tut-tutted. “Couldn’t catch a break. Said her boyfriend broke up with her and she lost her job in Baltimore.”
June opened her mouth to argue, but I squeezed her arm.
“Do you know where we could find Abbie?” I asked.
The woman frowned. “That’s what the police called her, too.”
“The police?” June asked.
“We knew her as Ashley. Not Abbie. But whoever she was, she was hit by a car and killed last Thursday. Hit and run on her way home from the liquor store,” the neighbor said, shaking her head sadly. “Like I said. The girl couldn’t catch a break.”
40
Shelby
“I did not anticipate that,” June said when we returned to the car.
Katherine danced on dainty hooves in the back seat, thrilled at June’s return. Billy Ray was too busy napping under a napkin to notice that I was back.
“Can you look the accident up on your phone?” I asked grimly as I input the second address into the GPS. “There should be an accident report or a news story.”
Dutifully, June performed a search with one hand while scratching Katherine’s head with the other.
“Died on Thursday crossing Miller Avenue sometime after midnight,” she read. “Struck by an unknown vehicle. There were no witnesses and no suspects.”
“That’s convenient,” I muttered.
Odds were, it was a legitimate accident. A drunk driver fleeing the scene. A kid joyriding in stolen wheels. Abbie’s death most likely was not suspicious. And yet it nagged at me.
Loose ends.
“Thursday,” I said, opening a bottle of water and taking a long drink. I wished it were Mountain Dew. “Saturday is when they found that the dental records were a match.”
“Are you suggesting that those events are connected?” June asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t see a connection, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel and thought.
“Abbie Gilbert had a court date for the fraud complaint brought by the Kendalls. But essentially, she was no longer part of the story. Abbie was unveiled as an opportunist, and now Callie is deceased. The missing person portion of the case is closed. Unless Abbie was the one who committed the homicide, I fail to see her connection,” June said.
I didn’t have an inkling either.
“Maybe someone was worried that the press would come asking more questions once the remains were identified. Like how did Abbie convince the Kendalls that she was Callie? Wouldn’t someone be wondering how she fooled them?”
“Perhaps. But why wait until now? Why not run her down with a vehicle immediately after discovering she committed fraud? And are you insinuating that you believe the Kendalls have some responsibility in Callie’s death?”
“I’m not insinuating anything,” I promised. “I’m just not positive that one of them didn’t have something to do with