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“That’s not the murder weapon,” Chip said when she pulled it out of her van.
“What do you mean?”
“Where did you get that?” Slaughter asked.
Sandra almost asked Chip why he’d brought her. “I got it at April’s house. I told you, she did it.”
“Not with that gun she didn’t.”
“What do you mean?” she asked again.
Slaughter closed her eyes as if Sandra exhausted her. “We know the caliber of the weapon used to kill Mr. Clark, and that’s not it.”
Sandra looked down at the gun in her hands. “This isn’t a two-forty-three?”
Slaughter started. “How did you know he was killed with a two-forty-three?”
“Um ... I didn’t. But I thought ... I thought this was a two-forty-three.”
Slaughter narrowed her eyes. “You’re not making any sense.”
“Never mind that,” Chip said, for once sounding more annoyed than Slaughter. “You were in her house? When?”
“Right before I called you.”
“And did you break in?”
“I did not.”
“So, she invited you in?”
“Not exactly.”
They waited for her to say more. “The door was open.”
“The door was open,” Chip said slowly. “Doors around you are always mysteriously left open.” He sighed. “So you decided to go through this open door and steal her shotgun?”
Sandra held the gun out to him. She suddenly couldn’t stand to hold it. “I didn’t steal it. I brought it to you. I’m sorry. I really thought it was the murder weapon.”
“Why did you think that?” Slaughter asked.
Chip took the gun.
“Because it was in her closet, and she’s a murderer. I didn’t know she had a gun collection.”
“Did anyone see you?” Chip’s anger was mixed with concern.
“No.”
“Sandra, you usually have a knack for figuring these crimes out, I’ll give you that.”
Slaughter rolled her eyes.
“But I’m going to ask you to sit this one out. You seem to be missing the mark here.”
“I’m not missing anything. She’s from Mount Green, Michigan. Jazmyn was from Mount Green, Michigan. Jazmyn killed a woman there, and I think April followed her here to get revenge.”
They both stopped. Had they seriously not thought of such a scenario?
“And Ivan Clark?” Slaughter said with a tone that says “Check” in a chess match.
“Ivan figured it out. He knew April did it, so she took care of him too. I heard her crying. Please, bring her in for questioning. I think she’ll crumble.”
Chip seemed to be considering it. “All right.”
“All right?” Slaughter cried.
Sandra smiled. “Thank you. Sorry I took the wrong gun. But she’s still the killer.”
Chip nodded. “We’ll bring her in on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You sit the rest of this one out.”
“Deal.” She said it without thinking.
They left without another word, and Sandra turned to go into the house. She had to call Ethel and ask her to continue her childcare services through a soccer game, but first, she was starving. She was watching her feet, so she didn’t notice Bob standing at the top of her steps until she almost ran into him. “Where did you go?” She went around him to get to her door, knowing how that would look to anyone who might be watching.
He turned and followed her inside. “Sorry, I had another crisis.”
“A crisis more pressing than me being trapped in a closet in a murderer’s trailer?”
“Yes, more pressing. I am an angel, remember? I have a lot of responsibilities.”
You are a middle school soccer angel, Sandra thought but kept it to herself. “Fine.” She ripped open the fridge. “You missed it. I made a fool out of myself.”
“What?”
“It was the wrong size gun.” She pulled out sandwich fixings, annoyed to see that someone had left behind a single slice of turkey. This was going to be a thin sandwich. “But the good news is Chip listened to me about Mount Green, and he’s going to bring April in for questioning.”
“Good. I noticed a framed picture of a woman on her dresser. Looked like her. I think it was her mother.”
“It probably was.” She slathered on the mayo to try to make up for the paltry turkey supply.
“The frame said, ‘Gone but not forgotten.’”
“Oh.” This struck a chord. She put the mayo down and looked at the angel. “Now that you mention it, I saw April on a video dedicating a dance trophy to her mother, and she did seem sad for someone winning a trophy. That would make sense, though, if she’d lost her mom.” Sandra’s throat tightened. April was a killer, but if she’d lost her mom when she was young? How painful that must have been. “Wait, don’t we know the victim’s name?”
“Yes, we do. Shawna Pevzner.”
“Maybe that’s April’s last name?”
“No idea. Hang on.” He vanished.
Sandra shook her head and turned back to her sandwich. Maybe it would make more sense to bring the dance angel into their circle instead of popping out every few minutes to ask him a question.
Bob reappeared. “Her name is April Wilson.”
“So not the daughter of Shawna Pevzner.”
“Could still be. Wilson could be her father’s name. Or a married name. Or she could have changed her name, as Jazmyn did.”
“True.” She licked some renegade mayonnaise off her finger and dropped the knife into the sink. “I bet you’re right. But I promised I wouldn’t do anything more. So, let’s let Chip do his thing and see what he finds out.”
“Will he tell you what he finds out?”
“Yes, he will.” She winked at her angel. “One way or the other.”
