“Where will you go tonight?”
“Panama City. There’s a hotel on the beach that still has those vibrating beds.” She wags her brows up and down.
The idea of Betty Jean driving forty-five minutes to Panama City and spending the night all alone in a seedy motel is depressing. She has friends, but I don’t see her asking any of them if she can crash at their place. She’s too stubborn and independent for that.
I can’t believe what I’m about to do.
“Well, I just hope I can get some sleep tonight. I’ll tell you a secret. I hate living all alone. The thought of going back to that big, empty apartment … ” I shudder dramatically. “It’s times like this I wish I had a roommate.”
“Try melatonin,” says Betty Jean. “Or whiskey. Either one does the trick every time.”
Looks like I’ll have to try the direct approach again. “Want to spend the night at my place? I could use the company.”
She ponders this a moment. “Why not?” Then her eyes narrow. “You don’t snore, do you?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but it doesn’t matter. I have a guest bedroom. You’re more than welcome to it. For as long as you need.”
“Let me see if I can sweet-talk one of those cops into letting me back in the house to grab my toothbrush. I’ll meet you at your place.” She struts over to talk to a police officer.
Travis stops me on the way to my car. “I just got off the phone with the station. Normally, I wouldn’t share this with anyone, but since you’re the one who tipped us off about Jefferson Pike, I thought you’d like to know that about an hour ago we caught Hoyt Daniels and Anita Tremble. They were outside of Tallahassee when they got stopped by the highway patrol for a broken taillight. Lucky for us, the officer noticed we’d just put out an APB on them. They’re being brought to Whispering Bay for questioning.”
“Good. Are you going to arrest Hoyt for Pike’s murder?”
“His name isn’t Hoyt Daniels. It’s Archie Clements. According to the FBI database, he’s a person of interest in the same cons they were looking at Pike for.”
“What about Anita Tremble?”
“It looks like she just joined the gang a few months ago. No alias on her that we can find.”
“Not yet anyway. So, you’ve got the killer. Right? You’re probably going to find Archie Clements’s fingerprints all over Betty Jean’s house.”
“The knife was wiped clean.” Travis blows out a breath. “You’re not going to believe what Clements is saying.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s going around screaming that he’s innocent.”
“Naturally. But he’s also giving us the name of the murderer too.”
I laugh incredulously. “I bet. Who’s the poor dupe he’s trying to pin it on?”
“J.W. Quicksilver.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. Luckily, it’s dark outside so Travis won’t notice. “What?”
“He says the real J.W. Quicksilver came to see Pike this afternoon, and the two of them had it out. As goofy as his story sounds, it actually makes sense. Quicksilver had a motive. Pike was using his name to swindle people. Now we need to find out if this world-famous reclusive author had the opportunity.”
“How … I mean, does Clements know where to find J.W. Quicksilver?”
“I’m on my way to police headquarters to find that out.”
Chapter Eleven
I give Betty Jean the keys to The Bistro and tell her to “knock herself out,” then Paco and I hightail it straight to Will’s. I get there to find Will lying on the couch holding a bag of frozen peas to his head. Underneath the bag of peas is a lump the size of a walnut.
“Holy wow, what happened?”
“I got knocked over the head.”
“By who?”