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A big smile lit Mr. Hamilton’s face as he clutched a giant plastic orange bowl in both arms, filled with Heath Bars, Snickers, M&M’s, Milky Ways, and Hershey bars.
Blake eyed the candy and started salivating. “Whoa, you’ve got the good stuff.”
“Blake, my dear! What a nice surprise. Are you trick-or-treating with the twins?” He looked behind her for the children.
She winced as she thought of the news she had to break to him. He was easygoing, but he had an award-winning front lawn. Maybe she could spin it that candy-induced vomit provided good fertilizer. She nearly laughed at the thought. “Well, I was, but uh... about that...”
“Come in, come in!” He ushered her inside.
“Thanks.” She stepped in behind him, twisting her fingers as she nervously looked around, hoping that Whit wasn’t there. Low light from the tiered chandelier gave warmth to the grand foyer. A formal living room was to Blake’s right, tastefully decorated in amber hues. “Are you here by yourself?”
“Oh yes.” He shut the Revere red door behind them. “Whit had a date or something. I can’t keep up with that boy’s social life. He seems to be quite the ladies’ man even though he’s only been in town a short time.” Mr. Hamilton said this with pride, but thinking about Whit’s reputation as a player gave her the heebie-jeebies.
“You might catch Bree, though. She’s supposed to come by with some papers for me.”
Really? Hmm, maybe I can see if I can get any more information out of her. Even though Kyle had shared what Bree had told her, Blake was curious to get a firsthand account.
“Mr. Hamilton, I was trick-or-treating with Rachel and the twins, and it seems Emma ate too much candy. I’m so sorry, but she got sick on your lawn. If you just point me in the direction of your garden hose, I’m happy to clean it off.”
“Oh, the poor girl.” He turned to walk down the hall. “Here, before I forget, I got some of your mail by accident. Let me get you that, and then we’ll get that hose.
Blake followed him down the long hall. She could see a big chef’s kitchen at the back of the house, but Mr. Hamilton turned to his left before he reached the kitchen. Blake walked through the doorway into his office behind him.
“I feel for Emma,” Mr. Hamilton continued. “It’s hard when faced with temptation.” He set the bowl of candy on an end table and walked around his large mahogany desk, which took up the center of the room. Bookshelves lined the wall to her left, and closet doors lined the opposite wall, making Blake wonder if the room had once been a bedroom. Her eyes took in the two buttery leather chairs that sat in front of the desk on a large oriental rug that tied the whole room together. Either Mr. Hamilton had an interior decorator, or he was very talented.
A cigarette lying in an ashtray on the desk was still smoking. Mr. Hamilton picked it up and took one long drag before crushing it out. “Some people don’t do well with willpower when they’re faced with something they want so badly.”
“I can see. I thought you quit smoking.”
“Not as easy as you might think.” In an exaggerated whisper, Mr. Hamilton said, “But don’t tell my son. When he ran across my cigarettes, he lost it.”
“My lips are sealed.” She reached up to her mouth then mimed zipping it shut. So far, she hadn’t seen any evidence of Whit even living there, but she would really like to get a look in that closet. “So, uh, is your garden hose out back? Or maybe in the garage?” Fingers crossed. “If it doesn’t stretch around to the front, I can move it. Or I can go get Rachel’s and—” If she couldn’t get into the garage, that would be the perfect opportunity for her to look in the window.
He waved her off. “We’ll worry about that in a minute. First, I really wanted to get your thoughts on some new ideas for the museum.” He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a white, pocketed folder. “Have a seat,” he said, stretching across the desk to hand her the folder.
Well, crap. She’d known she was going to get caught talking. Mr. Jeffries was adamant that he needed more funding for the museum. Tourism was really picking up in Wilton, and the museum was a big hot spot for people to learn about the Red Rose Murders.
Blake held in a sigh. Maybe instead of sending Sean and Aiden home, she should have had them meet her there. It would have given her a chance to look around and then an excuse to cut out rather than having to discuss business on Halloween night. She just needed to get outside to look for the hose so she could sneak a peek into the garage.
She sat in one of the two leather chairs in front of Mr. Hamilton’s desk and opened the folder.
“Here’s that envelope in there addressed to you,” he said when she fingered the white envelope with her name on it. “It came to the chamber office.”
That wasn’t anything unusual. The chamber of commerce office was just down the street from Mystery Cup, and she was a chamber member, so sometimes people sent mail to her there. She glanced at the envelope before sliding the papers out to take a closer look at Mr. Hamilton’s plans.
She furrowed her brow when she noticed the addresses on the two buildings listed. Wait a second—he’d said these were buildings he wanted to convert. Convert into what? The museum didn’t need to be converted into anything. It just needed to be renovated. She opened her mouth to ask just what it all meant, when the front doorbell interrupted her.
“Ah, more trick-or-treaters.” He walked over to the bowl of candy. “You take a look at that, Blake. I’ll be right back.”
She scanned the document in front of her as Mr. Hamilton went to answer his door. The two buildings listed were the buildings directly to the north of Mystery Cup—the museum and Fatal Shot Gifts. Those buildings weren’t for sale. He knew that. As she turned the page, she let out a gasp. He didn’t want to renovate the buildings. These were plans to tear them down. The two buildings took up a lot of square footage, and Mr. Hamilton was proposing they be torn down to build a mall. “Converted, my eye. Tearing down a museum and building a mall isn’t converting anything, not when you’re destroying a business.”
Thoughts of the real-estate scam in Florida rushed to the forefront of her mind. Maybe it was Whit Hamilton’s doing. Maybe he’d convinced his father to make the buildings downtown into a mall. But for what possible purpose, she had no idea. They couldn’t tear down the museum. They were talking about destroying the town’s history. And Fatal Shot Gifts was a huge moneymaker with all of the memorabilia and spooky-themed merchandise they sold.
“What do you think, Blake?” Mr. Hamilton’s voice made her jump as he entered the room behind her. “Did you look at the page that goes over the numbers? The profit the city could make from these changes is astounding!”
She turned to him and saw the excitement on his face. “Mr. Hamilton, these aren’t just changes. You’re talking about tearing down two buildings, one of which is a historical landmark. Those businesses aren’t even for sale.”
His face tensed, and a muscle worked in his jaw. “Everything’s for sale if the price is right, my dear. And the businesses can relocate. They only rent the buildings. Read over the proposed financing. You’ll see that there’s no way we could say no to that type of income.”
Before he could set his bowl of candy down, the front doorbell rang again. He let out a sigh. “The traffic has ebbed and flowed all night. I guess it’s safe to say it’s flowing.”
Before Blake could overcome her surprise at what he was proposing, he was walking back out of the room. She sat back in her chair and blinked. The city was making plenty of money. They weren’t rolling in the dough or anything like that. But the tourism was enough that almost all of the downtown businesses maintained healthy profits. It completely floored her that Mr. Hamilton would want to change the heart of the town so radically. She couldn’t imagine that the other business owners would be on board.
Her fingers tapped the sealed envelope in her lap as her mind went into overdrive. She definitely didn’t think it was the time to go over whatever moneymaking scheme Mr. Hamilton—or his son—had come up with. It was going to take a while to wrap her brain around the new plan. She needed to talk to Sean. He owned Macabre Reads, so she knew he would have a strong opinion on the matter too.
Blake picked up the oddly taped envelope and saw that it was from Spirits and Brushes, the new business opening up at the other end of Main Street. The advertising for their upcoming grand opening had really picked up in the last couple of weeks. Turning the envelope over and over in her hand, she wondered how she was supposed to get into it. The thing was taped up on all sides, and she’d chewed her fingernails down to nubs, so they wouldn’t be of any help.
The children’s voices at the front door faded, when new, louder voices yelled “Trick or treat!”
Blake set the envelope on the desk, and her eyes drifted to the closet. She probably only had a few seconds. It’s now or never. She bolted out of her seat and quickly padded over to the sliding closet door. With a deep breath, she slid the door open... and saw office supplies. “You have got to be kidding.” Disappointment weighed her down. There was no clown suit hanging in the closet, no bloody dagger, no flashing neon sign that shouted, “Whit’s the killer!” Okay, so she didn’t know what exactly she’d been expecting, but it was more than reams of paper and a plastic filing cabinet that looked like it contained an array of pens, paper clips, and Post-it Notes.
She started to slide the closet door shut when it bumped something. She reached into the semidark closet to push back a pair of shoes so she could close the door. The overhead light from the room shined into the closet, and when she pushed back the shoes, her hand stilled in surprise. The red-leather dress shoes shined brightly even in the dark closet. Red shoes. The clown wore red dress shoes.
Her heart pounded against her ribs. “Calm down, Blake.” Red dress shoes weren’t concrete proof of anything. But they were a damn good start. She needed more, and she was close. She was so close, she could feel it.
Blake spun around and rushed back over to the desk, noticing Mr. Hamilton was very organized. A laptop sat in the center of the big desk, and a few office supplies lay to the right of that next to a mug of what looked like coffee. She saw a cup of pens and pencils, Post-it Notes, a box of paper clips, and a stapler.
“Nothing suspicious there.” Biting her lip, Blake looked back at the door. She should just take it and go. She heard Mr. Hamilton’s voice commenting on various costumes, so she walked around the big desk and pushed back his chair. If he caught her rummaging through his desk, she could just say she was looking for a letter opener.
The desk looked fairly standard with a shallow top drawer, a deep drawer on the left, and three smaller drawers on the right. She opened the top center drawer but only saw more pens, a calculator, and a staple remover. The large drawer on the left was packed full of file folders, so she opened the top drawer on the right.
The world fell away as Blake sucked in a breath. Her heart sped up, adding to the ringing in her ears as her mind whirled. A blade stuck out from beneath a few papers, but it looked too sharp to be a letter opener. With a shaking hand, she pulled the object out from beneath the papers and picked it up. Resting in her palms was a large ornate dagger.
“Oh my God.”
There was no mistaking that dagger. At first glance, it resembled an arrow. The blade was triple-sided, making it look as though it could have been used as a stake. Hysterical laughter bubbled up as Blake remembered her mom taking her, Ryan, and Kyle camping as kids. It sure would have been something if they’d used ornamental silver daggers to stake the tent. Her mind was rambling. Her head popped up, and she listened as she heard Mr. Hamilton in the distance asking a child if he would rather have a candy bar or Skittles.
She studied the carved silver handle that formed intricate faces that almost looked as though they were in pain. The gold and turquoise jewels stood out in the silver, and she found it odd that an object could be so beautiful and so terrifying at the same time.
It was much heavier than it looked, but the weight in her hand was anything but a comfort. The powerful weapon sent chills down her spine. The last time she’d seen that dagger, it was in the hand of a clown, dripping with blood. No way were there two such distinct daggers in the world.
That could only mean one thing. Whit Hamilton had killed Todd Lang. He’d taken the dagger then slipped it back in the drawer in his father’s office when he was finished. Poor Mr. Hamilton. Blake wondered if he knew. Maybe he was covering for his son. She didn’t have time to evaluate the possibilities. She had to call her sister.
“A Tibetan silver dagger.” Mr. Hamilton’s voice made her jump, and she looked up to see an almost pleasant expression on his face as he slowly set the candy bowl down. Yet his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Used in rituals and tethering. It’s such a beautiful piece.” He nodded toward it. “The triple blade represents the three spirit worlds. The point is the axis that brings all three worlds together. This dagger specifically symbolizes the slaying of foes or obstructions.” He looked up at her with eyes so cold they made her shiver. “I’d say it’s working pretty well so far.”
Blake swallowed thickly against the metallic taste in her mouth and realized she was gripping the dagger so tightly that her knuckles were white. “I... I... uh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get into your desk. I was looking for a letter opener.”
She dropped it back in the drawer as though it had burned her and slammed the drawer shut. “I should go. It’s getting late, and Sean is waiting for me.” Her words were coming out fast, and her breath was coming out faster. She felt as though she was almost panting at the surge of adrenaline.
As she took a step toward Mr. Hamilton, he slid the pocket door to the office shut.
Her movements slowed as he turned to look at her, tilting his head as he studied her with an unreadable expression. “I really wish you hadn’t found that.”