“No, no point. Listen, I’m involved, on a personal level, with Abra Walsh.”
“I already knew that, unless you’re about to tell me you’re sleeping with her.”
“That’s what I’m telling you.”
He expected the sigh, and wasn’t disappointed. “All right, Eli. Since when?”
“A few days ago. I understand about perception, Neal, so don’t bother. The facts remain the facts. I’m asking for you to keep an ear to the ground in case Wolfe pushes for a search warrant for her place. Laughing Gull Cottage. She rents, but I can find out the owner if you need it. I don’t want her hassled over this. She isn’t part of it.”
“She’s your alibi, Eli. The cops have squat on you for Duncan, but she’s a big part of the reason they have squat. It wouldn’t hurt for her to get her own lawyer. She knows how it works.”
His body, his voice stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“Eli, you’re my client. She’s your alibi. Wolfe insinuated the two of you were lovers when Lindsay was alive. Do you think I didn’t run background on her? Exactly as you’d have done in my place? She’s clean, she’s smart, and from all accounts, she can hold her own. There sure as hell isn’t a law against the two of you having a relationship, so relax. If they take a pass at her, she’ll come through it. But she should get a lawyer. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. Is there anything you’re not telling me?”
“No. She brought me some damn stew, Neal, and ended up getting attacked and tossed in the middle of a murder investigation. I want to do something. God damn it, I want to do something besides just standing here.”
“You did. You called me. I reached out to a contact on the BPD. Wolfe pushed and pushed hard for this warrant. He’s about used up his currency where you’re concerned. Let this play out, Eli. It’s going nowhere. And the Piedmonts’ suit has throttled back to a few mutters to reporters who bother to listen to them these days.”
“There are cops swarming all over my grandmother’s house. It’s hard to shrug that off.”
“Let it play out,” Neal repeated. “Then close the door. If they push again, they’re going to get slapped with a suit. Trust me, Eli, the brass doesn’t want that—the wrangling or the publicity. They’ll shut Wolfe down. Let me know when they’re out of there.”
“Sure.”
Eli hung up. Maybe his superiors would shut Wolfe down, officially. But Eli didn’t believe for a moment that would stop him.
Because of an emergency call for a grocery run due to a preschooler with strep, Abra arrived a bit later than she liked for her church-basement yoga class.
She dashed in. “Sorry! Natalie’s kid’s down with strep, and she needed some supplies. She won’t make it to class, obviously.”
Even as she set down her mat, her tote, the vibes hit her. She caught the speculative looks, and more, the furious flush on Maureen’s face.
“Something up?” she said, casually enough, as she unzipped her hoodie.
“There’s police—a lot of police—at Bluff House. Don’t give me that look, Maureen,” Heather snapped. “I didn’t make it up. I saw them. I think they must be arresting Eli Landon for killing that poor man. And maybe for his wife, too.”
“A bunch of police?” Abra repeated as calmly as possible.
“Oh, at least a dozen. Maybe more. I slowed down when I drove by, saw police going in and out.”
“So you think they’d send a dozen, or more, cops to arrest one man? Did they bring in a SWAT team, too?”
“I understand you’d be defensive.” Heather’s voice dripped with sugary sympathy. “Considering your relationship.”
“Are you considering that?”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, Abra, it’s not like you’ve been making a secret of it. People have seen your car parked there late at night or early in the morning.”
“So wondering why it takes a platoon of cops to arrest one man—one, since I happened to be with him, I know didn’t kill that poor man—is defensive because Eli and I are sleeping together?”
“I’m not criticizing you, honey.”
“Oh, bullshit!” Maureen exploded. “You’ve been standing around here pretending to feel sorry for Abra while gleefully questioning her judgment. And you’ve already arrested, tried and convicted Eli without knowing dick about squat.”
“I’m not the one suspected of murder—twice—or with police in my house. I don’t blame Abra, but—”
“Why don’t you stop right there,” Abra advised. “I don’t blame you either, Heather,